For right in front was a towering rock, quite perpendicular above a low archway, at whose foot the stream rushed gurgling out, while the sides of the narrow ravine in which we were rose up like a wall.
“We shall have to go back, Pete, I suppose,” I said, as I looked upon either side.
“I wouldn’t, sir,” he replied; “it’s early yet.”
“But we couldn’t climb up there.”
“Oh, yes, we could, sir, if we took it a bit at a time.”
Pete was right. I had looked at the task all at once, but by taking it a bit at a time we slowly climbed up and up till we reached to where there was a gentle slope dotted with patches of woodland, and looking more beautiful than the part we had travelled over that day.
It was just as we had drawn ourselves up on to the gentle slope which spread away evidently for miles, that Pete laid his hand upon my arm and pointed away to the left.
“Look!” he whispered; “thing like a great cat. There she goes.”
But I did not look, for I had caught sight of a couple of birds gliding through the air as if they were finishing their flight and about to alight.
“Look there!” I panted excitedly, as I watched for the place where the birds would pitch, which proved to be out of sight, beyond a clump of trees.