The sight of this merry procession proceeding on its endless round proved too much for one pair of eyes that watched wistfully from the shore. One after another the dripping scouts came scrambling up out of the water, proceeded to the shore end of the pipeline, walked cautiously along it, feet sideways, crossed the dredge, dived and presently appeared again. "Follow your leader" they were singing and it was funny to hear how they picked up the tune and got into time upon emerging.
This kind of thing was hard to resist. It is hard not to dance when the music is playing. There was an alluring fascination about it.
Suddenly, to the consternation of every one, there was Goliath in the procession, moving along the pipeline, keeping his foothold by frantic gesticulations with his arms. He was laughing all over his little face. He swayed, he bent, he almost fell, he got his balance, almost lost it, got along a few steps, and then down he went with a splash into the water.
This climax of his wild enterprise occurred in a gap of the procession. Some scouts had fallen out, others were clambering out the other side of the dredge. So it happened that the splash was the first thing to attract attention.
Goliath did not reappear and before any one had a chance to dive or knew just where to dive, something was apparent, which sent a shudder through Tom Slade, who was standing near the end of the pipeline. The pouring forth of the wet sand out of the pipe ceased, or rather lessened and the substance shot out in little jerks. Tom, ever quick to see the significance of a thing, knew this for what it was. It was an awful message from the bottom of the lake.
Something was clogging up the suction pipe there.