Desiree was by now almost able to hold her own, but we still
supported her.
Every stroke made the next one easier, carrying us away from the
whirlpool, and soon we swam smoothly. Less and less strong became
the resistance of the current, until finally it was possible to
float easily on our backs and rest.
"How far is it to the cavern?" Harry panted.
"Somewhere between one and ten miles," was my answer. "How the
deuce should I know? But we'll make it now, I think. Can you hold
out, Desiree?"
"Easily," she answered. "If only I could get some air! Just one
good, long breath."
There was the danger, and on that account no time was to be lost.
Again we struck out into the blackness ahead. I felt myself no
longer fresh, and began to doubt seriously if we should reach our
goal.
But we reached it. No need to recount our struggles, which
toward the end were inspired by suffering amounting to agony as
we choked and gasped for sufficient air to keep us up.
Another hundred yards would have been too much for us; but it is
enough that finally we staggered onto the bank at the entrance to
the cavern in which we had previously rested, panting, dizzy, and
completely exhausted.
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