"That's so," replied the other, instantly; "but I reckon it's about reached its limit. You see, the higher it rises the broader the channel becomes, and that takes a heap of the water. Bob, cheer up, I'm nearly sure it won't reach the ledge!"
"Oh! don't I hope it won't!" cried the Kentucky boy, a little hysterically; for his nerves had indeed been sorely tried during this night.
Five minutes more passed, during which the torrent continued to rush downward through the gorge with all the attendant clamor.
"It's at a stand!" shouted Frank, who had himself been making soundings with his hand.
"And only six inches from the shelf!" echoed Bob. "That's what you could call a close call; eh, Frank?"
"It sure is, old fellow," replied the prairie boy, himself more relieved than his words would indicate; for he had discovered, during his brief search, that there was absolutely no hope of ascending any farther up that blank wall.
"Shake hands, Frank! We're as lucky as ever, I tell you!" said Bob; and when their hands clasped neither of them thought it strange that he could feel the other trembling.
"Well, what are we going to do about it?" asked Bob, when some time had passed, and the flood still rushed through the canyon, although in diminished fury.
"I don't know that we can do anything except camp out right here on this rock-shelf, and wait for the storm to pass by," replied Frank.
"Even if it takes till morning?" Bob went on.