e."

Joe went on, and the water was soon up to their waists, while the dog
swam on.

"I'm sure Grip's going wrong," said Joe, excitedly, as the light of the
lanthorn gleamed from the surface of what was now a narrow canal.

"Get on. Grip knows."

"He can't. It's impossible that he could have scented us over water."

"Yes, so it is," said Gwyn, anxiously; and he stopped, naturally
checking the dog, who began to splash and to howl and bark angrily.

"Well, we must go on now. Perhaps it's the way he came."

"Couldn't be, because he was not wet."

"Well, I am right over my waist," said Gwyn. "Shall we go on? We can
swim if it gets deeper."

"I say, let's try it a little farther." And holding the light well up,
they waded on, with the water growing deeper, till it reached their
chests and soon after their chins.

"Now then--go back or swim?" asked Gwyn.

"Oh, go on; Grip must know. I suppose the floor has gone down a good
deal here."

"Can you keep the lanthorn out of the water? If you can't we must not
go on; because it would be too horrible to swim here in the dark, and I
don't know whether I could keep on with only one hand swimming and
holding Grip with the other."

"He'd tow you along," said Joe.

"Halt! Hold the light higher," shouted Gwyn, and his words reverberated
strangely.

_Grate, grate, scratch_, came a strange sound.

"Do you hear what I say?" cried Gwyn, excitedly.

"I can't, I can't--there isn't room."

"Then give it to me," said Gwyn, fiercely, from where he stood a few
yards now in advance of his companion. "How am I to see what I'm
doing?--and I know you'll have it in the water directly."

"Don't I tell you I can't?" cried Joe, wildly. "Can't you see there
isn't room? I'm holding it close up to the roof now." And at a glance
Gwyn saw that the roof was so low where they were that the gallery was
nearly filled by the water.

"Oh, hang the dog!" cried Gwyn, desperately. "Quiet, sir! Come back!"
for with the water steadily deepening it seemed madness to let the
animal lure them on into what appeared to be certain death.

"Yes, yes, come back," panted Joe; "it's horrible. Here, Grip, Grip,
Grip! Here, here, here!"

But the dog only whined and swam on, and then began to beat the water
wildly as if he were drowning, for in his excitement and dread, Gwyn had
now begun to haul upon the leash, dragging the dog partly under water in
his efforts to get hold of its collar.