“What in the deuce is the matter?” asked Randall, excitedly. “What ails the boat?”
“I think the waves are rising in the lake,” said Wendel. “Yes, there is really some commotion under us, mates.”
“Right!” cried Frank, as he balanced the coracle. “Keep steady, or we’ll be over.”
It seemed as if the boat had become a boiling cauldron.
The water foamed and surged and pitched until the three voyagers were certain that they would go to the bottom.
But they did not.
A distant, sullen, booming sound was heard, like rumbling thunder. Then there was a muffled explosion, a hissing cloud of steam surged across the lake, and then all became quiet again.
The coracle rested safely once more upon the placid waters.
Then the voyagers collected their wits. Light from the electric lantern yet shone obliquely across the little craft, and in the water Frank saw some small objects floating.
He put his hand over the thwarts and picked up one.