"Are—you—hurt?" asked Jack, pantingly.
"No—are—you?" inquired Nat.
"Nope! Wonder—what—sort of—a place—this—is."
"Kind—of—wet," remarked Nat, and, in spite of his peril Jack could not help smiling.
When the water had cleared from their eyes the boys saw they were in the midst of a miniature lake. It was formed of the water that escaped from the broken pool, and had filled a big hole, a sort of basin on a ledge of the mountain. They struck out for the nearest shore, reaching it after some little difficulty, for their wet clothing hampered them.
Reaching the bank they crawled out, for the little lake shoaled rapidly, and shook themselves like big dogs to get rid of what water they could. Then they turned to gaze at the curious scene.
Before them was quite a large sheet of water. Right to the edge of it came the flume trestle, and it could be seen, in the moonlight, where it had broken off. Beyond the lake, on the other side, the sluiceway continued on, but there was a gap of several hundred feet.
"Looks as though there was less water coming down," said Nat, as he began taking off his outer clothing to wring it out.
"That's so," agreed Jack.
As they stood looking at the spurting water it was perceptibly diminishing. The volume was greatly decreased from that which had shot them into the lake. Rapidly it grew less until it stopped altogether.