Down they plunged side by side from the island and into the water that was now flowing in all directions around the mound. They made a bee line for the rocky ridge beyond.
“Look out for holes!” cried Jack, but even as he spoke his pony plunged downward, nearly causing our hero to take a header. But he clung fast, and, struggling up, the pony went forward as before.
It was a ride that can scarcely be described. Soon the water was up to the bodies of the ponies and then they were carried off their feet. They swam a short distance, and then, coming to a shallow spot, galloped on as before.
It was a wild ride, and dripping from foam and water the ponies kept on until once again they had to swim.
Then came a roar from the bottom of the lake, and steeds and riders were hurled high in the air, to fall again with a noise in the spume of the boiling lake.
“We--we air lost!” panted Plum. “Th--the wind is gone out o’ me!”
“Keep on, we have only a short distance further to go!” cried Jack.
The earth was shaking again and the water appeared to swing away from them toward the island.
Then it came on with a rush, carrying ponies and riders far up the rocky ridge. Then the water went back as before, boiling and foaming furiously, while a mist blotted out the immediate landscape.
“Come, don’t stop here!” yelled Jack, urging his pony forward. “To higher ground, before it is too late!”