"He did?"

"Yes."

"I should like to know when?"

"When we shoved off."

"You mean when he shouted something we couldn't catch and pointed
down the river?"

"That's it."

"I thought he meant there was better fishing down, here," snapped
Harry indignantly, "what idiots we were."

"Yes; not to notice how we were drifting," rejoined Frank quietly,
"it's no use to blame Mr. Desplaines for this pickle. We have only
ourselves to be angry with. I don't suppose he ever thought that
two boys would not notice how they were drifting in a ten mile
current."

"The point is how are we ever going to get out of it?"

How indeed?

As the boys looked about they saw little to encourage them. The
chasm in which they were beleaguered was not more than fifteen feet
across, but on either side shot up walls of rock so steep and smooth
that not even a fern could find root on their polished surfaces.