“Have I done anything to annoy him?” he asked.
“You? No. What nonsense! There, come along. We haven’t had such a day as this for ever so long, and I’ve been indoors till I can hardly breathe. Why not have a sail?”
Max looked aghast at the heaving sea.
“Perhaps it is a bit too rough,” said Kenneth. “Never mind; we’ll go and see the falls.”
Ten minutes later they were skirting round the little bay, to turn in by the first swollen river, to track its bed up to the mountain, where the “fa’s” they were to see were to be found, and, even as they went, a low, deep, humming sound came to the ear, suggestive of some vast machinery in motion; while the river at their side ran as if it were so much porter covered with froth, great flakes of which were eddying here and there, and being cast up in iridescent patches on the stony banks.
At the end of a quarter of an hour’s climbing and stumbling among the wet rocks and bushes, during which the two big dogs had been trotting quietly along at their master’s heels, and Sneeshing, in a wonderful state of excitement, hunting everywhere for that rabbit which he had on his mind, Max stopped short.
“Hallo! Tired?” cried Kenneth, laughing.
“Oh no! But it seems such a pity to go hurrying on. Wait a few minutes.”
Kenneth laughed, and yet he could not help feeling gratified at his companion’s enthusiasm.
“Here, hold hard a bit, Tawy,” he cried. “Stop a bit, Shon.”