They were so frightened that they pressed back as far as they could get,
and even tried to climb up the sides of the rocky cavity, so fearful were
they that the water would dash in upon them. But the raging flood roared
and surged outside, and none of it came into their cave. Then the sound
of it became not quite so loud, and grew less and less. But still
Cheditafa and his companions were so frightened and so startled by this
awful thing, happening so suddenly, as if it had been magic, that it was
some time--he did not know how long--before they lifted their faces from
the rocks against which they were pressing them.

Then Cheditafa crept forward and looked out. The great waves and the
roaring water were gone. There was no water to be seen, except the brook
which always ran at the bottom of the ravine, and which now seemed not
very much bigger than it had been that morning.

But the little brook was all there was in the ravine, except the bare
rocks, wet and glistening. There were no huts, no Rackbirds, nothing.
Even the vines and bushes which had been growing up the sides of the
stream were all gone. Not a weed, not a stick, not a clod of earth, was
left--nothing but a great, rocky ravine, washed bare and clean.

Edna Markham stepped suddenly forward and seized the captain by the arm.
"It was the lake," she cried. "The lake swept down that ravine!"

"Yes," said the captain, "it must have been. But listen--let us hear
more. Go on," he said to Cheditafa, who proceeded to tell how he and his
companions looked out for a long time, but they saw nor heard nothing of
any living creature. It would be easy enough for anybody to come back up
the ravine, but nobody came.