“Here’s where we’ll have to be careful,” said Joslin now, as rounding the bend they caught the full roar of the waters which had assailed their ears for so long. Before them lay a deep black pool with a high ridge of white running down the middle. Above the pool a transverse bar of white entirely crossed the river, here pinched down between two rock walls. The stream plunged across a broken reef, dropping some feet in a wide cascade. On either side were flat ledges of rock now exposed above the water. Obviously, it was the intention of Joslin to walk alongside and drag up the boat close to the shore.
“How far is it on from here?” demanded Haddon, sullenly. “It’s one hell of a looking spot, ain’t it, you’ve brought us to—black already as though it was night! I never did like water anyway.”
“There’s a short cut across the hills from here to town—only a few miles,” Joslin answered quietly. “We can make good time once we get above here.”
“It’s a mighty bad-looking place,” grumbled Haddon. “I don’t like the looks of it at all. How are you ever going to get up through there?”
“It’s easy,” said Joslin. “I’ve been through a thousand times, I reckon. I’ll take care of you, so don’t be afraid. Now, when I run alongside the ledge yonder, Mrs. Haddon, you climb on out the best you can.”
She did so quickly and lightly. Haddon clumsily scrambled out on his knees, red of face, still grumbling, irritable.
They stood now on a flat ledge of the sandstone which made a fair footway, broken here and there with steps as one eroded stratum after another dropped down. The river itself had cut through the entire ledge in the course of ages, and made a plunge, as has been stated, of many feet. From their new place of vantage they could see the full height of what the mountaineers called the “king breaker” of the Narrows—a white crest of up-flung water which rolled back toward the foot of the cascade before it was caught in the downward pull of the current. The roar of the water was now full in their ears. The spot was gloomy, oppressive.
“I wish it wasn’t so dark!” said Marcia Haddon, huddling her arms to her. She scarce had spoken for an hour before. “It’s growing colder, too.”
“We’ll not be long, Ma’am,” said Joslin. “Don’t be afraid at all. Just walk on up, and I’ll get the boat up a little way.”
“Wait a minute,” said Haddon. “It’s late, but I just want to try to make a picture here—I want to show the boys what sort of a place this is that they’ve sent me to—I’ve left my camera on the boat seat. I’ll have a try at it anyhow.”