The morning dawned with the different falls wonderfully reduced; and after a breakfast that was exactly what Dale had said overnight, an early start was made, so that they were well on their way by the time that the sun began to tinge the tops of the mountains, which, seen now from a different point of view, seemed more beautiful than before.
Then by degrees the various familiar parts came into sight, till they neared and descended into the open valley along which the river ran, and at last came to a halt close to the mouth of the gorge, where the fount gushed down and joined the water at their feet.
The horror and dread they had felt came back to their memories as they gazed down at the murky stream, rushing furiously along, now evidently many feet deeper than when they had passed that way; and Melchior drew their attention to the fact that it must have been much higher up the rocks on the previous day.
“What do you think of it?” asked Dale.
“There is a great deal of water, herr; but I think the path will be all clear. Now it is so full, the water will flow more quietly.”
“But the mule: do you think you can get it through?”
“Oh yes, herr.”
“But suppose it falls from one of these narrow places?” said Saxe excitedly.
“Oh, then we should have to go back and get it ashore, and try again, herr. Gros knows the way by water.”
“But surely that animal will never get through, Melchior?”