required a severe shaking to rouse
Sir Arthur.

"Waiter, a deviled kidney and a pint of Pommery Sec," he cried drowsily,
as Chutney pulled him to a sitting position. And then opening his eyes
he groaned dismally, "Bless me, I thought I was dining at Gatti's. Why
didn't you let me sleep?"

CHAPTER XXVII.

ALL HOPE VANISHES.

"We are approaching the outlet of the lake, Sir Arthur," said Guy. "It
is better that all should be awake in case we encounter bad water."

"Yes, yes; very true. You want me to hold the torch, I suppose. Gad!
what a dream I had! I was dining with Lord Balsover. I'd give my title
and fortune to be back in London this minute."

"Hold your torch straight," said the colonel dryly, and then under the
regular strokes of four paddles the canoe moved swiftly toward the
distant sound of running water.

Every instant it grew louder and more distinct, and soon their voices
were almost drowned in the roar.

It was a period of terrible anxiety. That it was the outlet of the lake
they were approaching no one for an instant doubted. Their chief concern
was for a safe passage into the river beyond, for the angry splash of
the water told plainly its turbulent and dangerous nature.

"Keep a little off from the shore," cried Guy. "It won't do to make too
sharp a curve or we shall upset. We must strike the current fairly in
the center and keep the canoe straight as an arrow. Whatever happens,
don't drop the torch," he added warningly.

Close as they now were to the outlet, no signs of any current were yet
visible. The colonel called attention to this strange fact, but Guy
explained it by remarking that the current probably passed directly
through the center of the lake and that dead water continued to the very
edge.

"I can see a white gleam ahead," he cried suddenly; "now paddle off from
shore a little more and head the canoe as I tell you."

His orders were obeyed in silence. Straight out from the shore the canoe
shot deftly. A couple of quick strokes forward and backward and its bow
faced the angry waters that raged and foamed thirty yards distant.

The radius of the torch cast a faint gleam on the very edge of the
glistening spray. It seemed to beckon them onward.

"Now give way," cried Guy. Four paddles dipped and rose as one, the
shining drops rolled from their blades like so many diamonds in the
torch-glare, and then Guy sprang to hi