Fire in the Woods / Illustrated

by James De Mille

“Through the Falls, is it?” said Pat. “O, sure it’s just because they don’t want to; an that’s all, so it is.”

After some more conversation, they began to grow tired of the island; and since they had exhausted all the pleasure that a landing upon it, combined with the consciousness of success, could afford, there remained nothing more to do but to complete their enterprise by effecting a landing upon the other island also.

This one lay farther up the stream; and as they launched their boat and rowed towards it, they became at once sensible of a great increase in the difficulty of their task. With their utmost efforts their progress was very slow, and it took far longer to reach it than it had taken to come from the shore to the first island. At length, however, they reached it, and secured the boat.

“Ye see,” said Pat, who always was ready to account for everything,—“ye see we’ve had the tide dead agin us this time. Whin we crossed the river it was on’y on one side. Whin we go back, it’ll be all fair and aisy, for we’ll have it on one side agin; and that’s how it is.”

They now began to explore this second island. It was larger than the other, but did not seem so large. As it was free from woods, its small extent was perceptible at a glance, which was not the case with the other. The absence of woods made it also even less interesting. But the boys were not at all exacting; and as there was nothing in particular to see on the island, they naturally turned their eyes to the scene that lay beyond. This scene was now very extensive. They could look around in every direction, and enjoy an unobstructed view. Up the river it was the same as it had been before—the same assemblage of rocky hills, and schooners, and steamers, and rafts; but down the river a grander view unfolded itself before their eyes.

The river there ran on till it seemed terminated by a wall of rocks, at the foot of which a steam saw-mill was clattering and howling. On each side of the water arose perpendicular cliffs, and between these was the suspension bridge, whose frail pathway was sustained by cables that passed over granite towers at the edge of the precipice; and overhung a tremendous gulf of treacherous waters.

Suddenly Phil put his hand on Pat’s shoulder. Pat turned, and saw him looking anxiously out over the water and pointing.

“What’s the matter?” asked Pat.

“I wonder what makes it so white over there,” said Phil, in an anxious tone.

He was pointing to the water between the island and the promontory. Here the surface was agitated, and foam was emerging and floating on in ever-increasing masses, while a deep, dull roar began to be slowly perceptible to their ears.