"Isn't it perfectly grand!"
Then they became silent, stricken dumb with the unspeakable admiration they felt.
Above them and quite near at hand were the American Falls, with the sun shining on them and a cloud of pure white mist rising in an ever-shifting veil from the gorge into which plunged and roared the mighty volume of water. Then came Goat Island, with Horseshoe Falls beyond, shooting forth great boiling fountains of white spray and sending heavenward billow after billow of mist. Beneath them rushed the broad river, writhing and twisting, as if still suffering agonies after its frightful plunge over those dizzy heights to be rent and torn to tatters on the rocks below.
Inza's gloved hand crept into Frank's, and he felt it quiver a little in his grasp.
With a single exception, every one on the car seemed to regard the falls with interest. Even the motorman and conductor took a look at them.
The exception was an old man, who wore a long cloak and carried a crooked cane. His hands rested on the handle of his cane, and his gray head was bowed on his hands. He did not once look up or turn his face toward the falls while passing over the bridge. To Frank this seemed remarkable, but Merry decided that he must be some one who was familiar with the spectacle and to whom the sight no longer appealed.
Having crossed the bridge, the car turned upward toward the falls, and at the point where the wonderful horseshoe began they got off.
Approaching the iron railing, they leaned on it and gazed in continued and increasing wonderment. They were now where they could hear something of the continuous thunder of the falls, and at intervals a little of the spray fell in misty rain upon them.
"Oh, see!" breathed Inza, grasping Frank's arm. "Look at the beautiful rainbow."
In the mist of the American Falls a gorgeous rainbow could be seen.