“It will soon stop,” he said, as cheerfully as he could. But he did not believe himself. He held Andy’s hand in a firm grip.
Higher and higher rose the tide. It was at the knees of the boys now, and still mounting.
“Let’s stand up,” proposed Frank at length.
“I’m tired of sitting.”
They took an upright position on the ledge of rock. Their heads just touched the rocky roof of the cave. In fact Frank, who was a trifle taller than his brother, had to stoop.
“Now we’ll be all right, Andy,” he said. “We can stand here until the water goes down.”
“If—if it doesn’t touch the roof,” was the solemn answer.
Frank said nothing.
Standing on the ledge, high above the floor of the cave, the water now lapped their ankles once more. Frank could feel it creeping higher—ever higher. In spite of himself, a horrible fear took possession of him. Death was very near, he thought—a terrible death by drowning in the cave where they were caged like rats in a trap.