The doctor turned away to look at the great waterfall, evidently amused by Jack’s dry drawling speech; and I sat and looked at my companion, while he looked at me, and spoke out so as to make me hear above the roar of the torrent.
“I say, Joe Carstairs, I didn’t seem to be very much frightened, did I?”
“No,” I said. “You bore it very bravely.”
“Mean it?”
“Of course,” I said.
“That’s right; because I did feel awfully queer, you know. I don’t mind that though so long as I didn’t show it.”
“How did you manage to get into such a pickle?” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, still rubbing himself gently. “I was wandering forward to get a good look at the waterfall, and then my legs seemed to go down. I only had time to grip hold of that tree, and then I was swinging about. That’s all. Let’s have a look at the water, though, all the same.”
We followed the doctor, going cautiously along till we found him standing gun in hand gazing from a bare spot right out at the huge tumbling body of water, which made the very rocks on which we stood tremble and vibrate as it thundered down.
In one spot, half-way down what looked to be a terribly gloomy chasm, a broad beam of sunlight shone right across the foam and fine spray that rose in a cloud, and from time to time this was spanned by a lovely iris, whose colours looked more beautiful than anything of the kind that I had before seen.