Exhausted, the three lay perfectly still, their hearts filled with thankfulness at their wonderful escape. Bob Somers was the first to rise, and, in a moment, the others joined him. They were three strange-looking boys, pale-faced, with wet, bedraggled clothing that stuck tightly to their forms.
"We had a narrow escape, fellows," exclaimed Sam Randall, with a shiver. "I never expected to get out of it."
"One adventure like this would last a fellow a lifetime," murmured Dave. "We ought to thank our stars. I'll never forget how I felt when we were in that gorge," and Dave shuddered.
"Nor I," said Bob. "If we only knew what happened to poor Tommy and Dick."
"Travers is a good swimmer; the current doesn't run very strong there, and they were close to Hemlock Island."
Dave's cheering words brightened the others considerably.
"Listen to the roar of that cataract," put in Sam. "It can't be far off—sounds like a whopper."
"Suppose this valley had been on the other side of the falls, instead of this," said Dave, reflectively.
"Don't, Chubby," and Bob shivered. "Poor old 'Speedy,' she's smashed to bits, now—nice news for Uncle Barton. Maybe he won't have a few things to say to Dugan."
"Fellows," said Sam, suddenly, "how are we going to get out of this place? We may be in a fine pickle after all—let's explore a bit."