THE RIGOR OF THE GAME In obedience to their leader's order, Marcel, the taciturn, and Domingo, from whose lips the Britons had scarce heard a syllable, squatted on the catamaran.

Marcel wielded a short paddle, and an almost imperceptible dip of its broad blade sent the strangely-built craft across the pool.

Once in the shadow, it disappeared completely.
There was no visible outlet.

The rocks thrust their stark ridge against the sky in a seemingly impassable barrier.

Some of the men stared at the jagged crests as though they half expected to see the Brazilians making a portage, just as travelers in the Canadian northwest haul canoes up a river obstructed by rapids.
"Well, that gives me the go-by," growled Coke, whose alert ear caught no sound save the rippling of the water.