“He cast one wild, despairing glance around him at the rocks with their wild flowers, at the greenery of the hanging trees, the blue sky, the fleecy cloudlets, at the great sun itself; then everything was blotted out of sight in a moment, the canoes were swallowed up in the inky darkness.
“There were a few minutes of silence deep as death itself, for my grand-dad and Tom both were praying.
“‘Tom,’ cried grandfather at last.
“‘John,’ said Tom.
“And their voices sounded ringing-hollow, awful.
“‘Speak low, Tom.’
“‘Yes,’ whispered Tom, ‘but the suspense is terrible.’
“‘Where are we hurrying to? How I wish it were all over! I think I’m going mad, John. I believe I shall leap out of the canoe and meet my fate.’
“‘No, Tom, no; be brave, man, for my sake. A minute or two ago you were singing.’
“‘It was but to keep up my sinking heart.’