TIME'S FINGER 293 



unlike the scarred, time-chastened rock, that steadfast 

 slip of light which since the dawn of creation had flashed 

 messages across the unresponsive sea. 



From a ledge in which ferns and orchids grew in care- 

 less profusion — bird's-nest fern and polypodium and 

 white-flowering orchid — the crystal might be reached 

 by a little manoeuvring. But why hurry ? Every 

 minor crevice was embossed with spongy moss, from 

 which sprang modest little flowers, a flower of mountain- 

 tops alone, lacking a familiar name, but which in its 

 dainty form and rich mauve is none the less precious. 

 While all the rest of the way had been barren or gloomy, 

 here was brave sunshine and space, a jewel-like crystal, 

 and moss and ferns and flowers, and calm and cool 

 serenity which bespoke remoteness from the "debil- 

 debil" and all his works, and from the noisy cave of the 

 winds. Magic there was in plenty — the air tingled with 

 it — that exhilarating, mind-expanding silence of moun- 

 tain-tops which is the most thrilling magic of all. 



Leisurely glances at the mass of granite from which 

 the cr3''stal shone showed that from the fern}- ledge it 

 would be be^^ond reach, and that unless care was exer- 

 cised in the dislodgment it might fall among a confusion 

 of boulders far below and be lost for ever. My plan was 

 to build a buttress of loose stone on which to stand to 

 tap it with the tomahawk. Like a miniature railway 

 cutting, the ledge ran out on the face of the rock, so 

 that standing upon it one looked down into the ravine ; 

 but it was broad enough to afford safe and even con- 

 venient footing. 



As a final preliminary to the beginning of operations, 

 I clambered up on to the ledge. Ferns grew among 

 decaying vegetable matter in masses difficult to push 

 through. Polypodiums with brown, oak-leaf like, in- 

 fantile fronds clung tightly to the rocks with furry fingers, 



