He felt quite at ease, and the perfume of the flowers was most delightful. Amid the flowers bees were humming and butterflies were flitting.
Looking forward, he saw that where the blue haze lay the river broadened to a great bay. The haze became bluer and blacker, until it lay on the bosom of the water like a pall.
Then, for the first time, he observed in the boat a grim, stern-faced old man who was guiding the craft.
“Where are you taking me?” asked the boy.
The old man made no reply in words, but he lifted his hand and pointed toward the eternal darkness that lay heavy and impenetrable on the surface of the water.
“It is Charon, the grim boatman,” thought Frank, “and he is ferrying me over the Styx. This is death!”
They floated onward, and with the darkness came sleep—a cold, chilling, but peaceful slumber.
CHAPTER XXX.
A DELECTABLE TRIO.
Horrible pains, cold, heat, burning thirst, a choking sensation, a frantic desire to draw a deep breath, to move, to cry out—all these Frank felt.