And now what disappointment! I might even say, what despair! All our efforts gone for nothing! Even if the “Terror” was still upon the lake, to find her, reach her and capture her, was beyond our power, and it might as well be fully recognized beyond all human power. We stood there, Wells and I, completely crushed, while John Hart and Nab Walker, no less chagrined, went tramping along the banks of the Creek, seeking any trace that had been left behind. Posted there, at the mouth of the Creek, Wells and I exchanged scarcely a word. What need was there of words to enable us to understand each other! After our eagerness and our despair, we were now exhausted. Defeated in our well-planned attempt, we felt as unwilling to abandon our campaign, as we were unable to continue it. Nearly an hour slipped by. We could not resolve to leave the place. Our eyes still sought to pierce the night. Sometimes a glimmer, due to the sparkle of the waters, trembled on the surface of the lake. Then it vanished, and with it the foolish hope that it had roused. Sometimes again, we thought we saw a shadow outlined against the dark, the silhouette of an approaching boat. Yet again some eddies would swirl up at our feet, as if the Creek had been stirred within its depths. These vain imaginings were dissipated one after the other. They were but the illusions raised by our strained fancies. At length our companions rejoined us. My first question was, “Nothing new?” “Nothing,” said John Hart. “You have explored both banks of the Creek?” “Yes,” responded Nab Walker, “as far as the shallow water above; and we have not seen even a vestige of the things which Mr. Wells saw laid on the shore.” “Let us wait awhile,” said I, unable to resolve upon a return to the woods. At that moment our attention was caught by a sudden agitation of the waters, which swelled upward at the foot of the rocks. “It is like the swell from a vessel,” said Wells. “Yes,” said I, instinctively lowering my voice. “What has caused it? The wind has completely died out. Does it come from something on the surface of the lake?” “Or from something underneath,” said Wells, bending forward, the better to determine. The commotion certainly seemed as if caused by some boat, whether from beneath the water, or approaching the creek from outside upon the lake. Silent, motionless, we strained eyes and ears to pierce the profound obscurity. The faint noise of the waves of the lake lapping on the shore beyond the creek, came to us distinctly through the night. John Hart and Nab Walker drew a little aside upon a higher ridge of rocks. As for me, I leaned close to the water to watch the agitation. It did not lessen. On the contrary it became momentarily more evident, and I began to distinguish a sort of regular throbbing, like that produced by a screw in motion. “There is no doubt,” declared Wells, leaning close to me, “there is a boat coming toward us.”