But no, suddenly the grinding ceased, and we could again feel the canoe flying along.

I turned my head a little -- I dared not lift it -- and looked up.

By the feeble light that yet reached the canoe, I could make out that a dense arch of rock hung just over our heads, and that was all.

In another minute I could not even see as much as that, for the faint light had merged into shadow, and the shadows had been swallowed up in darkness, utter and complete.
For an hour or so we lay there, not daring to lift our heads for fear lest the brains should be dashed out of them, and scarcely able to speak even, on account of the noise of the rushing water which drowned our voices.

Not, indeed, that we had much inclination to speak, seeing that we were overwhelmed by the awfulness of our position and the imminent fear of instant death, either by being dashed against the sides of the cavern, or on a rock, or being sucked down in the raging waters, or perhaps asphyxiated by want of air.