Although both noticed this, neither made any remark about it at first: Alec, because he did not wish to alarm Lon; and Lon, because he shrank from admitting that it would have been wiser to follow shrewd old Lark’s advice. So they paddled away in silence, putting plenty of muscle into their strokes, and anxiously measuring their progress by landmarks on the farther shore. Presently their exertions began to toll upon their young frames. The perspiration beaded their faces, their breath came short, their backs began aching, and their arms grew weary. Lon’s heart was already sinking within him, and Alec deeply regretted having yielded to his companion’s ill-advised solicitations to disregard old Lark. But there was no time for reconsideration or exchanging of regrets. They were beyond a doubt in the grasp of the current, and must strain every nerve to extricate themselves. Then, to add to their anxiety, the weather showed signs of betraying the fair promise of the morning. Clouds began to obscure the deep blue of the sky, and a breeze to ruffle the calm surface of the lake. Unable to control his feelings any longer, Lon broke out with more than a hint of a sob in his voice,— "O Alec, I wish we hadn’t started! I’m getting awfully tired, and we don’t seem to be making any headway at all." "Oh, yes we are, Lon," responded Alec, doing his best to be cheerful. "Paddle away; we’ll get across all right." Thus encouraged, Lon put a little more life into his strokes for the next few minutes, and the canoe did seem to be gaining ground. But the gain was only temporary. The further they advanced the more they felt the force of the current. Yet it was too late to turn back. Their only course was to keep on until they had shaken themselves free from the power that was dragging them downward to destruction. Whether they would have been equal to this feat can only be guessed; for in trying to change his position to relieve his cramped legs, Lon lost his balance for a moment, and on attempting to recover himself did what was even worse—let slip his paddle, which was instantly whirled out of his reach. "O Alec! what shall we do now?" he cried in dismay. Alec’s face was white and set. "Nothing—we are powerless," he said quietly. It was, of course, futile for him to try to contend alone with the pitiless current. The little canoe, as if glad at having no longer to fight its way foot by foot, glided gaily down towards the rapids, and all that Alec could do was to keep it straight in its course, and not allow it to swing around broadside. Poor Lon, utterly overcome with terror, crouched down in the bow, sobbing so that he shook the frail canoe. But Alec was not one to yield to despair so long as anything could be done.