“I ain’t,” said Jack. “I’m afraid he’s gone right away back; and we’ve offended him so that we sha’n’t see him any more.”
“You keep your opinion, Jack, and I’ll keep to mine. I say, I wonder what that noise is!”
“Noise! Birds,” said Jack.
“No, no! That dull murmur. There, listen!”
“Wind in the trees.”
“No, I’m sure it is not!” I exclaimed. “There! it is gone now. It is like far-off thunder.”
“Water,” said the doctor, who had closed up with us unperceived. “I’ve been listening to it, and it sounds to me like a waterfall. Depend upon it we shall find that the river comes down over some pile of rocks, and if we were clear of the forest and could take a good look round we should find that the country is growing mountainous on ahead.”
It seemed during the next day’s journey that the doctor was right, for we were certainly ascending, the land growing more rugged and toilsome, but at the same time far more beautiful and full of variety. In place of always journeying on through thick forest or park-like stretches, we now found our way was among stony ridges and long heavy slopes, with here and there a lovely valley, so full of beauty that I used to think to myself that perhaps we should find my father had built himself a hut in some such place as this, and was patiently going on with his collecting.
We had seen nothing of Jimmy for three days, and though I suspected him of being close at hand, and coming to our camp at night stealthily in search of food, it really began to appear as if he had left us for good, when an adventure towards evening showed us who was correct in his surmise.
“I don’t think much of the doctor’s waterfall,” Jack said to me, in his dry drawling way.