He walked slowly, gazing at the many-colored flowers and unknown trees that arched the stream. Several hundred yards down, the path wound about a steep drop over which the water boiled and bubbled—a miniature Niagara. From his place, Dirk could look directly down into a seething basin hollowed in the rock. Below this fell away the bed of the stream in an incline of sheeted, mossy shale, upon which sprawled the naked forms of the trailers. Wild Willie Sanders, with ear-splitting yells, was coasting down the slide head first, and landed in the broad pool below like a noisy otter.
Spray from the falls sprinkled Dirk’s face, and he hurried to strip off his dusty garments and join in the fun. As he took his place on the slide, the rills of water from the side of the falls were so icy that he cried out.
“Brr-r-r! Boy, talk about cold!”
“Get warmed up swimming down here in the pool,” advised Sagamore Carrigan, who was floating about in the crystal water beneath the slide. “Then you won’t feel it!”
Dirk watched Spaghetti Megaro, who was plunging a long pole into the great pot-hole directly underneath the falls. The pole sank out of sight, and shortly after shot into the air, to be caught by the Italian lad.
“That’s plenty deep, you bet!” grinned Megaro. “They call this one the Devil’s Cauldron. Some shower-bath if you get in this tub! Once when I was here, Wally Rawn got in and tried to dive down to bottom—but he didn’t find no bottom, not at all. He got out plenty quick.”
Dirk hastily removed himself from the brink of the treacherous-looking hole, and joined the divers who plunged into the pebble-bottomed pool below. The swim period was short, not only because the hikers were hungry, but because the water was so chill that too long exposure might be dangerous to health. After a brisk rub-down the trailers, glowing with vim, donned their cast-off clothes and started for the plateau above, where Cowboy Platt was already building a small cooking-fire for the noonday meal.
Lingering behind alone, Dirk dressed slowly, pausing now and then to watch the flight of a bird, or to mark some strange formation of rock along the walls of the Glen. At last he picked up his dripping towel and started up the path to rejoin his friends.
When he came once more to the bend directly above the falls, he paused for a last look at the impressive sight. As he stared down at the racing waters, a clump of star-shaped flowers on a tough-leafed bush caught his eye. He had never seen such strange bright blossoms before, but Sagamore Carrigan could tell him all about them. It struck him that it would be a good thing to get some and take them with him to the others.
Spreading his feet firmly on the slippery path, he reached down to snatch the plant from its perch in a crevice in the rocky cliff. It was too far. He knelt, and dropping one leg over to balance himself, made a second attempt. Still the nodding flowers were a tantalizingly few inches from the tips of his fingers. Tossing his head with annoyance, he made a swift swoop. As his hand touched the fringe of the bush, he felt the earth beneath his weight stir and slip.