sibility that we will never leave this
cavern. The fatal error was made when we took the right-hand channel of
the two, or rather when the current led us to the right. That was not
our blunder, of course. We were in the hands of destiny. We are now, as
you know, on the bosom of a vast lake. Water of an unknown depth is
beneath us. Overhead is a vaulted dome of great height, probably the
hollowed interior of a mountain; on all sides are massive and
perpendicular walls of rock, impregnable and insurmountable.

"The lake is undoubtedly ten miles or more in circumference, and, as you
know well, there is no surface outlet. There is an entrance, but we can
no more force our way back through that entrance than we could swim up
through the Falls of Niagara or ride the Nile Cataracts in a Rob Roy
canoe. As long as our provisions last we shall live. When we no longer
have anything to eat we shall die, and the next explorer who enters this
lake will find our bones mingled with those lying behind us."

"And what will _he_ do?" asked Guy.

"Perish like those before him," said the colonel. "This death trap
caught many a victim and will catch many more. The light of day will
never pierce this gloom."

The colonel spoke as though he were demonstrating a problem in Euclid or
laying down plans for a campaign.

"I don't call myself a philosopher," he went on, "nor am I a fatalist,
but I think that most men can face the inevitable with a certain
calmness that is only born of absolute despair. Did you ever see a man
hanged? I did once. He walked to the gallows as coolly and deliberately
as though he were going to breakfast. A week before he had been
defiant, blustering, terror-stricken. When he realized that he had
absolutely no loophole of escape, he faced the inevitable with steady
nerves. When you realize your position fully, you will be like that man.
You will accept your fate."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A DESPERATE FIGHT.

The colonel rose, and going down to the canoe helped himself to a
handful of crackers and some figs. He came back to his seat and began to
munch them very contentedly.

"The most merciful thing we could do would be to cast our provisions
into the lake," he said finally. "It would cut short the agony of
waiting, but I don't suppose you would look at it in that way."

"No, no; don't do that," cried Chutney. "Who knows what may happen
yet?"

"Ah! there