A curious shrinking sensation came upon Max, and Kenneth noticed it.
“This isn’t the Grey Mare’s Tail,” he said, laughing; “and we’re not in a boat.”
“I can’t help feeling a little nervous,” said Max frankly. “I am not used to this sort of thing.”
“And we are. Yes, of course. It’s too bad to laugh at you. Come on.”
“Is there any danger?”
“Well, of course there is, if you go and tumble in, but you needn’t go near.”
The humming roar grew louder as they tramped on along a sheep-track in and out among the huge stones which had fallen from the sides of the great gully. Now they were in deep shadow, where brilliant speckled fungi, all white and red, stood out like stools beneath the birch trees; then they were high up on quite a shelf, where the turf and moss were short, and the sun shone out clearly; and ever, as they turned angle after angle of the great zigzag, the roar of the water grew louder, till, after another hour’s slow climbing, they descended a sloping green track and came into a great hollow directly facing them; and a couple of hundred feet overhead, a narrow rift, out of which poured an amber stream of water on to a huge block of rock some twenty feet below, the result being that the great spout of amber water was broken and turned into a sheet of foam, which spread out all over the great block, and fell sheer the rest of the distance, over a hundred and fifty feet, into a vast hollow below. Here it careered round and round, and rushed onward toward where the group were standing, while high above all floated a cloud of fine vapour which resembled white smoke, and upon which played the iridescent colours of half a rainbow, completing the picture in a way which made Max watch it in silent delight.
“Well, what do you think of it?” said Kenneth, who was amused by the London lad’s rapt manner.
“Eh? think?” said Max, starting and colouring.
“Yes. What were you thinking?”