"Before we return," said the young girl, "I want to show you the waterfall, more especially as I am looking forward to a little diversion on my own account. Come, Mervyn, come along, dear dog. Oh, you are lovely!"
We soon reached the bank facing the rocks which blocked the bed of the river. The water fell from a height of many feet into a large and deeply sunk circular basin, which seemed to be shut in on all sides by an amphitheatre of vegetation, broken by dripping rocks. But there were unseen outlets for the overflow of the little lake, and the streams so formed reunited a little lower down.
"It is not exactly a Niagara," said Mlle. Marguerite, raising her voice against the noise of the falling waters, "but I have heard connoisseurs and artists say that it is rather pretty, nevertheless. Have you admired it? Good! Now I hope you'll bestow any enthusiasm you may have left on Mervyn. Here, Mervyn!"
The Newfoundland ran to his mistress, and, trembling with impatience, watched her while she tied some pebbles into her handkerchief. She threw it into the stream a little above the fall, and at the same moment Mervyn fell like a block into the lower basin and struck out swiftly from the edge. The handkerchief followed the current, reached the rocks, danced in an eddy for a minute, and then, shooting like an arrow past the smooth rock, swept in a mass of foam under the eyes of the dog, who seized it dexterously in his mouth, after which Mervyn returned proudly to the bank, where Mlle. Marguerite stood clapping her hands.
This feat was performed several times with great success. At the sixth repetition, either because the dog started too late or because the handkerchief was thrown too soon, Mervyn missed it. The handkerchief, swept on by the eddies from the fall, was carried among some thorny brushwood that overhung the water a little farther on. Mervyn went to fetch it, but we were very much surprised to see him suddenly struggle convulsively, drop his booty, and raise his head towards us, howling pitifully.
"My God! what has happened?" exclaimed Mlle. Marguerite.
"He seems to be caught among the bushes. He'll free himself directly, no doubt."
But soon one had to doubt, and even to despair, of this issue. The network of creepers in which the dog had been caught lay directly below one of the mouths of the sluice, which poured a mass of seething water continuously on Mervyn's head. The poor beast, half-suffocated, ceased to make the slightest effort to release himself, and his plaintive cries sounded more and more like a death-rattle. At this moment Mlle. Marguerite seized my arm, and whispered almost in my ear:
"He is lost. It's no use.... Let us go."
I looked at her. Grief, pain, and her violent effort to control herself had distorted her pale features and brought dark circles under her eyes.