“No, no, sir, that won’t do,” said John Manning, shaking his head. “As you said to me the other day, that’s only a story out of the ’Rabian Nights, and not real truth, though these places might just as well be something of the kind, from the looks of them. But, I say, sir, you do know where we’re going, and what for, don’t you?”
“No, I have not the slightest idea. Ask my father yourself.”
“What, sir! Me ask the colonel about the plan of his campaign? Why, I should as soon have thought of asking the Dook o’ Wellington.”
“We shall know in good time, I daresay,” said Perry; and then a slip on the part of one of the mules ahead made them turn cold once more.
But the clever animal recovered itself on the instant, and for hours they kept on along this path, till the boys despaired of reaching its end, and began to calculate on the possibility of having to encamp on a place like that for the night.
But it is a long lane that has no turning, and just when there was a sensible deepening of the gloom, and the peeps they had of the sky overhead were of a golden amber, they turned an angle and became aware of an increase in the murmuring sound of water, which thenceforth grew louder and louder, till it was evident that they were approaching some extensive fall.
An hour later they were in full sight of where it came thundering down hundreds of feet, spouting forth from a gap, and plunging down on to a huge buttress of rock, which shot it off again far into the air, distributing it so that it went on down into the valley like a misty rain, and without a sound arising from below.
The fall was magnificent, for, as they approached, the upper part was turned to gold by the setting sun, and to add to the beauty of the scene, there was a patch of forest on either side, and the narrow shelf was broadening out to where it ran into a side valley, all golden green and darkened shadow. For they had reached the end of the terrific gorge, and there were scores of places just in front ready for the formation of ideal camps, without the risk of an incautious step sending its unhappy author thousands of feet down into the depths below.
In another half-hour they were in a place which, by comparison with the sterile defile of darkness and depression, seemed to the lads beautiful in the extreme; and after a hearty meal, while the colonel was looking round the camp, as he called it, and having a farewell glance for the night at the mules, which were thoroughly enjoying the abundance of grass, Cyril sat looking very thoughtful and depressed.
“He’s thinking of home and his people,” said Perry to himself, and then, on the impulse of the moment: