incessant, the reports like the bombardment of a thousand batteries of
artillery, even the rocks trembling and quaking. Chunky's face grew
pale.

"Say, I want to go home," he cried.

"Trot right along. There's nothing to stop ye," answered the guide
sarcastically.

"Afraid?" questioned Ned jeeringly.

"No, I'm not afraid. Just scared stiff, that's all," retorted the fat
boy.

The shelf of rock that sheltered them had now become the base of a
miniature Niagara Falls. The water was pouring over it in tons, making
a roaring sound that made that of the river seem faint and far away.

Jim Nance was plainly worried. Tad Butler saw this and so did the
Professor, but neither mentioned the fact. Their location was no
longer dry. The spray from the waterfall had drenched them to the
skin. No one complained. They were too used to hardships.

All at once there came a report louder and different from the others,
followed by a crashing, a thundering, a quaking of the rocks beneath
their feet, that sent the blood from the face of every man in the
party. Even Dad's face grayed ever so little.

The next second each one was thrown violently to the ground. A sound
was in their ears as if the universe had blown up.