Presently she turned about; her eyes opened
and she pressed her hands to her head.
"Don't say 'Where am I?'" said Harry, "because we don't know. How
do you feel?"
"I don't know," she answered, still gasping for breath. "What
was it? What did we do?"
I left them then, turning to survey the extent of our damage.
There was absolutely none; we were as intact as when we started.
The provisions and spears remained under their straps; my oar lay
where I had fallen on it. The raft appeared to be floating easily
as before, without a scratch.
The water about us was churned into foam, though we had already
been carried so far from the cataract that it was lost behind us
in the darkness; only its roar reached our ears. To this day I
haven't the faintest idea of its height; it may have been ten
feet or two hundred. Harry says a thousand.
We were moving slowly along on the surface of what appeared to be
a lake, still carried forward by the force of the falls behind
us. For my part, I found its roar bewildering and confusing, and
I picked up my oar and commenced to paddle away from it; at
least, so I judged.
Harry's voice came from behind:
"In the name of goodness, where did you get that oar?"
I turned.
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