“Gradually, however, a sound began to grow upon their ears, and increase and increase momentarily. It was the roar of a cataract far ahead.
“Tom speedily lit his torch, and they paddled in towards the side, and grounding, leapt on shore, and drew up the boats.
“If they could have been surprised at anything the warmth of the shore would have caused them to wonder, but they felt, in a measure, already dead, and their senses were benumbed. One sense, however, was left—that of hunger. They extracted provisions, and, strange to say, both ate heartily, then almost immediately sank to sleep.
“‘Tom,’ said grand-dad, awaking at last.
“‘John,’ said Tom.
“‘I think, Tom, we had better end this at once. Down yonder is the cataract. We have but to push off into the stream, and in a minute more all will be over.’
“‘Nonsense,’ replied Tom. ‘Come, John, old man, I’m getting hopeful; and I do think, if we can drag the boats along this gloomy shore, we may avoid that waterfall, and launch again below it. Let us try.’ So Tom lit the torch again, and away they went, dragging the light canoes behind them.
“It was rough work, but they succeeded at last.
“Once more the boats were launched, once more the same irrepressible drowsiness stole over them, and they slept for what seemed to them, when they awoke, a wondrously long time.
“Again they grounded, ate, and slept.