"Young man," said that worthy person, making his appearance, dripping from head to foot with water, and looking terribly severe, "I want to see you in the wood shed."
His tone struck terror to Ned's heart. The wood shed, on such occasions, was quite apt to prove a second inquisition.
Ned followed, not daring to do otherwise. He didn't even dare to look at his father's face. What took place in the shed I can't say, but directly after their visit to that part of the house Ned went to bed, and I hope he got up feeling better next morning.
[TERRIBLE FATE OF A DARING INDIAN.]
One of the most remarkable subterranean waterways in the world was recently discovered in the northern range of the Rockies in Montana, by the agency of a fatal accident, witnessed by me on an expedition in which Phil Barnes and Pierre Leger, two prospectors, were my companions, together with a Flathead Indian named Klikat.
On October 28, having struck northeast from Bonner's Ferry into a region entered by a few white men before us, we found ourselves within twenty-five or thirty miles of the Canadian boundary, and 7,500 feet above sea level. In front and on the right were perpendicular cliffs, which barred our advance. To the left was a precipice about 80 feet high, overhanging a roaring mountain stream, and extending fully two miles to the south.
As we stood there, looking around for some opening by which we might advance, there came to our ears a deep, roaring sound, alternating in force, stronger and weaker at intervals of a few seconds. It came in jarring sounds, with a volume like thunder.
"Me know what him is," said Klikat, with a pleased air of comprehension. "Him is Big-hole-in-the-water. You come look," he added, throwing himself flat on the rock with his head and shoulders hanging over. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, "Big-hole-in-the-water heap mad to-day. Him funny. Water go in ground; never come out."
Following Klikat's example, I threw myself on the ground, and peered down from the dizzy height. Barnes and Leger did likewise.