After half an hour's good travelling, the Elizabeth reached the first bend of the Montrose, which, making a loop of about thirty degrees, now wound towards the south-west.
Beyond this bend the banks were not more than ten or twelve feet high—the height of the highest tides. This was proved by the layers of grass deposited among the tangled reeds, sharp-edged like bayonets. Inasmuch as on this date, the 19th of March, the equinoctial tides attained their maximum height, the conclusion was that the bed of the river was deep enough to contain all the sum of its waters, and that it never overflowed the surrounding country.
The pinnace was moving at from eight to ten knots an hour, which meant that she might expect to cover somewhere near twenty miles during the time the flood tide lasted.
Ernest had taken note of her speed and remarked:
"That is more or less the distance at which we have calculated the mountains rise in the south."
"Quite so," Mr. Wolston replied; "and if the river washes the foot of the range we shall have no difficulty in reaching it. In that case we need not postpone our projected trip for three or four months."
"Still, it would take more time than we can spare now," M. Zermatt answered. "Even if the Montrose did take us to the foot of the range we should not have reached our goal. We should still have to ascend to the summit, and in all probability that would involve much time and trouble."
"Besides," Ernest added, "when we have ascertained whether the river continues its course towards the south-west, we have yet to learn whether the stream is broken by rapids or barred by any obstacles we cannot pass."
"We shall soon see," M. Zermatt replied. "Let us go on while the flood tide carries us, and we will make up our minds on the other point in a few hours' time."
Beyond the bend the two banks were much less steep, and enabled a wide view to be obtained of the region traversed by the Montrose.