VIII. 



PHANTOM FALLS. 



" T OHN," I exclaimed, as I stood emptying the 



I water out of my boots, — " John, I will surely 

 write ah account of this night's adventure." 



" No one will believe you if you do," replied he. 

 " If it was not for this water," he continued, as he 

 gave his soaked jacket a wring with both hands, " I 

 should doubt it myseK, and declare that we have 

 only been dreaming, and had not shot two miles of 

 those rapids to-night, nor dragged our boat from 

 under the suction of Phantom Falls." 



" I do not care whether people believe it or not," 

 I replied. " There lies your broken paddle," — and I 

 pointed to the piece of shivered ash, — " and there 

 you stand, wringing the water of the rapids from 

 your jacket, and we know that something more 

 than human has now for two nights appeared off 

 our camp, and that we did, two hours ago, take 

 boat and follow it until it vanished into mist ; and 

 I shall tell the story of what we have seen and 

 done, not expecting any one will believe it." 



Gentle reader, I keep the promise made to John, 

 as we stood by our camp-fire under the pines, and 



