Inside all was
blackness, but we could judge of the fury of the maelstrom by the
force of the current outside. Stones hurled by the Incas were
striking against the sides of the column and in the water near
us.
We were being hunted from life like dogs, and a hot, unreasoning
anger surged through my brain--anger at the grinning savages on
the bank, at the whirling black water, at Harry, at myself.
Whichever way we looked was death, and none worth choosing.
"I can't hold--much longer," Harry gasped. "What's the use--old
man--Paul--come--I'm going--"
He disappeared into the black, furious whirlpool with that word.
The next instant my own fingers were torn from their hold by a
sudden jerk of the water, and I followed.
Chapter XIV.
A FISHING PARTY.
Water, when whirling rapidly, has a keen distaste for any foreign
object; but when once the surface breaks, that very repulsion
seems to multiply the indescribable fury with which it endeavors
to bury the object beneath its center.
Once in the whirlpool, I was carried in a swift circle round its
surface for what seemed an age, and I think could not have been
less than eight or ten seconds in reality.
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