teersman was alarmed, and this very alarm hindered him from
following the only prudent course he could have taken under the
circumstances. He should have aroused his fellow-voyagers, and
proclaimed the error into which he had fallen. He did not do so. A sense
of shame at having neglected his duty, or rather at having performed it
in an indifferent manner,--a species of regret not uncommon among his
countrymen,--hindered him from disclosing the truth, and taking steps to
avert any evil consequences that might spring from it.

He knew nothing of the great river on which they were voyaging. There
_might_ be such a strait as that through which the galatea was gliding.
The channel might widen below; and, after all, he might have steered in
the proper direction. With such conjectures, strengthened by such hopes,
he permitted the vessel to float on.

The channel _did_ widen again; and the galatea once more rode upon open
water. The steersman was restored to confidence and contentment. Only
for a short while did this state of mind continue. Again the clear water
became contracted, this time to a very strip, while on either side
extended reaches and estuaries, bordered by half-submerged bushes,--some
of them opening apparently to the sky horizon, wider and freer from
obstruction than that upon which the galatea was holding her course.

The steersman no longer thought of continuing his course, which he was
now convinced must be the wrong one. Bearing with all his strength upon
the steering oar, he endeavored to direct the galatea back into the
channel through which he had come; but partly from the drifting of the
current, and partly owing to the deceptive light of the moon, he could
no longer recognize the latter, and, dropping the rudder in despair, he
permitted the vessel to drift whichever way the current might carry her!

Before Tipperary Tom could summon courage to make known to his
companions the dilemma into which he had conducted them, the galatea had
drifted among the tree-tops of the flooded forest, where she was
instantly "brought to anchor."

The crashing of broken boughs roused her crew from their slumbers. The
ex-miner, followed by his children, rushed forth from the tolda. He was
not only alarmed, but perplexed, by the unaccountable occurrence. Mozey
was equally in a muddle. The only one who appeared to comprehend the
situation was the old Indian, who showed sufficient uneasiness as to its
consequences by the t