In about a half hour our pic-nic table was spread with various viands, the table composed of boards spread upon two of the mossy logs, the boards being the product of a sawmill hard by.
The company seated themselves, and immediately a desperate charge was made by the whole force upon the eatables and drinkables, and immense havoc ensued. An entire route having been at length effected, again the vexed question of the name to be given to the "Fall" was brought on the tapis.
"Let us call them the Falls of Aladdin," said enchanting Rose Rosebud, lifting her azure eyes to the jewelled autumn foliage that glittered around.
"The Falls of the Ladder!" caught up Jobson: "the very name!—why, it describes the Falls exactly! I wonder we haven't thought of that name before. The water looks like a ladder exactly, coming down them big rocks."
"I'll tell you what," said Paddock, "I've now been all about the cataract, and seen it at all points. I've hit upon the very name, I think. What say you to the Falls of the Bounding Deer?"
"But where's the Deer?" grumbled Jobson, now thoroughly out of humor from the contempt with which his last observation had been treated.
"Do be quiet, Mr. Jobson," chimed in the girls, "and let us hear what Mr. Paddock urges in favor of his beautiful name."
"See," said Paddock, pointing upward, "see where the upper Fall bounds from yon dark cleft of rock, and, gathering itself in that basin for another effort, gives another leap down its path, and then, gathering itself once more in the lower basin, shoots away to the protecting woods!"
"Capital name! Just the thing, Mr. Paddock!" again broke out the chorus of girls, like a dangling of silver bells.
"The Falls of the Bounding Deer be it then!"