File:My strange rescue, and other stories of sport and adventure in Canada (1895) (14784103355).jpg

Identifier: mystrangerescueo00oxleuoft (find matches)
Title: My strange rescue, and other stories of sport and adventure in Canada
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Oxley, James Macdonald, 1855-1907
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Publisher: London T. Nelson
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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turned riverward; apparently lost in deepthought. Wonder what Yankees thinking about ? remarkedTom. Puzzling out some of those confounded problemshe does so easily, perhaps, he added feelingly, for he hadhad some humiliating experiences of his own inability toget over the Fons AsinoruTii safely, or to explain why awas equal to x under certain perplexing circumstances. More probably planning what hell do with that fivepounds, said Frank, half petulantly. I guess its morelikely to go into books than into a boat if he gets holdof it But he isnt going to get hold of it, objected Tom;and then, without giving Frank a cliance to reply, heburst out, Oh, I say, Frank, suppose instead of waitinghere we go down to meet the bore and have a race backwith it. Frank hesitated a moment before answering, for whatTom proposed was a very rash thing to do. What is THE BORE OF MINAS BASIN. ;35 known as the bore is the big wave produced by the on-rush of water in a place where the tides rise forty, fifty,
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THEY SAW THEIR COMPANION EMBEDDED NEARLY TO THE WAIST IN A QUICKSAND. or even sixty feet, according to the time of year. TheBay of Fundy, of which Minas Basin is a branch, is fa- 336 THE BORE OF MINAS BASIN. mous for these wonderful tides, and the movements of thewater make a sight well worth watching. The two boyshad often looked on with lively interest as the returningflood rushed eagerly up the channel and over the flats,until in an incredibly short time what had been a wasteof red mud was transformed into a broad expanse of turbidwater. Rather a risky business, Tom, but I dont mind tryingit. Im in the humour for almost anything to-day; socome along. And without more ado the boys dofled their boots andstockings, rolled up their trousers, and set out for thewaters edge. Emory Haynes watched them in silenceuntil they had gone about fifty yards. Then, as if divin-ing their foolish design, he called after them,— Frank—Tom—where are you going to ? Going to meet the bore. Dont you

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