Half-way down the gorge there was a mound like a platform (the "Law-mount" explained Oscar to Helga) and at the foot of it there was a pool whose clear green depths looked cold and chill in the palm of the cliffs that darkened it.
"That's the drowning pool," said Oscar. "When a woman was unfaithful to her husband they hurled her from the rocks into the water."
"And what did they do with the unfaithful men?" laughed Helga.
From the edge of the pool a frothy river fell with a thunderous clamor over a precipice to the valley below, where it forked into many fingers and ran off to the margin of the lake. Beyond these rivulets there was the rutted plain, now dotted over with tents, but having only two houses within sight--the little wooden parsonage with its tiny church built of stone and shingles and the Inn-farm of Magnus Stephenson.
Magnus himself stood waiting there, washed and dressed, after working the whole night through with his man John Vidalin, to prepare for his expected guests. And when Oscar rode up, a little excited and confused, he received him with the cheerful face of one who had made his peace with his brother and meant to keep it.
"How's Thora to-day?" asked Magnus, as he loosened the girths of Oscar's saddle; and Oscar answered nervously:
"Better--that is to say--well, perhaps not so very well to-day, Magnus."
"Her child has been given back to her?" said Magnus.
"Not yet," said Oscar. "To tell you the truth, the Governor--," and then he faltered out the sequel to his broken promise. Magnus's face darkened, and he said:
"So the doctor has not been consulted at all?"