at we could do towards preserving our safety. The exception
was that another of us took up a position in the stern with a
paddle by means of which it was possible to steer the canoe more
or less and to keep her from the sides of the cave. These matters
attended to, we made a somewhat sparing meal off the cold buck's
meat (for we did not know how long it might have to last us),
and then feeling in rather better spirits I gave my opinion that,
serious as it undoubtedly was, I did not consider our position
altogether without hope, unless, indeed, the natives were right,
and the river plunged straight down into the bowels of the earth.
If not, it was clear that it must emerge somewhere, probably
on the other side of the mountains, and in that case all we had
to think of was to keep ourselves alive till we got there, wherever
'there' might be. But, of course, as Good lugubriously pointed
out, on the other hand we might fall victims to a hundred unsuspected
horrors -- or the river might go on winding away inside the earth
till it dried up, in which case our fate would indeed be an
awful one.

'Well, let us hope for the best and prepare ourselves for the
worst,' said Sir Henry, who is always cheerful and even spirited
-- a very tower of strength in the time of trouble. 'We have
come out of so many queer scrapes together, that somehow I almost
fancy we shall come out of this,' he added.

This was excellent advice, and we proceeded to take it each in
our separate way -- that is, except Alphonse, who had by now
sunk into a sort of terrified stupor. Good was at the helm and
Umslopogaas in the bows, so there was nothing left for Sir Henry
and myself to do except to lie down in the canoe and think.
It certainly was a curious, and indeed almost a weird, position
to be placed in -- rushing along, as we were, through the bowels
of the earth, borne on the bosom of a Stygian river, something
after the fashion of souls being ferried by Charon, as Curtis
said. And how dark it was! The feeble ray from our little lamp
did but serve to show the darkness. There in the bows sat old
Umslopogaas, like Pleasure in the poem, {Endnote 9} watchful
and untiring, the pole ready to his hand, and behind in the shadow
I could just make out the form of Good peering forward at the
ray of light in order to make out how to steer with the paddle
that he held and now and again dipped into the water.

'Well, well,' thought I, 'you have come in searc