The "Terror" would surely not venture into this trap which had no exit.

Probably she would not even go to the extremity of the lake.
Such were the thoughts that spun through my excited brain, while my eyes remained fixed upon the empty horizon.
And always one persistent question remained insolvable.

Why had the captain written to me personally that threatening letter?
Why had he spied upon me in Washington?
What bond attached him to the Great Eyrie?
There might indeed be subterranean canals which gave him passage to Lake Kirdall, but could he pierce the impenetrable fortress of the Eyrie?
No! That was beyond him! Toward four o'clock in the afternoon, reckoning by the speed of the "Terror" and her direction, I knew we must be approaching Buffalo; and indeed, its outlines began to show some fifteen miles ahead.
During our passage, a few boats had been seen, but we had passed them at a long distance, a distance which our captain could easily keep as great as he pleased.

Moreover, the "Terror" lay so low upon the water, that at even a mile away it would have been difficult to discover her.
Now, however, the hills encircling the end of Lake Erie, came within vision, beyond Buffalo, forming the sort of funnel by which Lake Erie pours its waters into the channel of the Niagara river.

Some dunes rose on the right, groups of trees stood out here and there.