Chapter Twenty Two.
Towards the Falls.
The fishing-line was laid to dry, the sail was bellied out, and the boat ran swiftly on again before the brisk breeze.
Lynton, who now steered, kept the little vessel close in shore so that a good view might be had of the beauties of the lovely surrounding country, for here tree and shrub had room to grow and assume their natural shape without being deformed by crowding neighbours or strangled by the twining monsters struggling upward so as to be able to expand their blossoms in the full sunshine.
In a short distance, though, the forest grew thicker, and the great trees crowded down closer to the water’s edge.
Brace and his naturalist companion had withdrawn their gaze from the silvery sheen of the descending fall a mile ahead, to gloat over the beautifully-coloured birds, insects, and flowers which revelled in myriads in the light, heat, and moisture of the glorious bank of the stream.
Fresh beauties rose to the view at every glide of the boat, and Brace felt that what they ought to do was to check its way and stop to drink in the glories of the scene.
Chance after chance offered itself, but neither of the gun-bearers felt disposed to shoot, and their pieces rested in the hollows of their arms till suddenly, as they passed round a point, they came upon a scene in a nook some fifty yards away which made each seize and cock his weapon.