278 The Unknown River. 



than those which now followed. A misty morning had 

 ended in an afternoon of brilliant sunshine ; the river was 

 seldom less than three or four feet deep, and it turned 

 continually, every turn offering some new and beautiful 

 picture. The splendid autumn trees burned in the glow- 

 ing light against the pure blue of an unclouded sky, and 

 their long reflections trailed in glimmering gold on the 

 calm surface of the quiet, sequestered pools. In such 

 delightful scenery as this two or three miles a day 

 seemed only too rapid travelling ; I longed continually 

 to tie the boat to some tree, and etch whilst any light 

 remained. Soon, however, the stream narrowed again, 

 and an impetuous current rushed under closely woven 

 boughs, and between many awkward snags. Many a 

 place seemed impassable, but the stream was too swift 

 and too narrow to admit of any going back, and there 

 was nothing for it but to shut one's eyes and dash at 

 the branches with the paddle lying useless on the deck. 

 Once the boat was jammed between a root and a tree 

 where the stream was strongest, but I got through by 

 pulling at the tree with both hands. As for landing, it 

 was out of the question ; there was no land to be seen, 

 nothing but branches, branches everywhere, overhead, 

 before, behind, to the right and to the left, with an im- 

 petuous current under them, strong, swift, and deep. 

 Then I heard a roar of water amongst rocks, and, in an 

 instant, turning a corner, found myself at the foot of a 

 steep hill, thickly wooded as far as I could see ; and 

 where the water had eaten into the hill the rocks were 

 bare, a long row of them, and there were stones in the 



