Speed could not be made with such a
craft; it was simply a convenience for crossing or journeying down the
river. The Mojaves, whose village was five miles above La Paz, came
down on freshly made _balsas_ every day, but walked home, carrying
their paddles.
Once well out of the lagoon, and in the river-current, the boy and dog
were swept along at a swift rate.
A mile down the shore he saw a crowd of men, mounted and on foot,
intently watching something inland. He was approaching the
race-course. He made a landing on a sand-spit that struck off from an
outward curve of the bank, and dragged the _balsa_ out of the water.
The shore rose abruptly from the bar to a height two feet above his
head. He lifted and boosted Vic up, and seizing the long tufts of
overhanging grass and thrusting his feet into the loops of willow
roots, drew himself to the higher level and crept into a screen of low
bushes.
Peering through the branches, Henry saw a straight-away course,
parallel to the river, bordered for three hundred yards with the
motley crowd of a mining and Indian country.
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