“Yes, sir, I think so.”
“But how was it?” cried Oliver.
“Ah, that’s a queshtun, sir,” said the man, rubbing one ear. “I don’t quite know, on’y as I was walking along arter you one moment, and the next my legs seemed to run down a slide and I was in the water.”
“I thought so,” cried Oliver.
“I did holler, but there was such a row nobody heered me, and afore I knowed where I was I seemed to be going down with five hundred millions o’ chaps sousing buckets o’ water on my head till I was most stifled, and then I was going on again.”
“Going on where?”
“Oh, I dunno, on’y as it was all dark and the water just deep enough to slide me along over the bottom which was smooth as glass.”
“Ah! the trough cut by the water in the lava stream,” cried Panton, “continued right on after the fall.”
“Yes, sir, that’s it. I continued right on arter the fall till I got rayther sick on it and tried to get out fust one side and then the other.”
“And did you?” cried Oliver.