2i8 Life in the Open 



expected that our cabin would blow over into the 

 cafion, and suggested to the owner that it would not be 

 a bad plan to rope it down to a neighbouring tree. As it 

 did blow over in a later gale it was evident that my half- 

 joking request was not unwarranted. It had rained 

 heavily and steadily for three days ; the wind came in a 

 series of gusts, and when they passed and went whirling 

 up the caftons, the silence was profound by contrast ; but 

 it only made audible another roar. At first I thought 

 it the rush of waters in the caftons ; but it had so weird 

 and ponderous a note that I went out and made my 

 way to the carton's edge on the north and found that it 

 was caused by the rolling of big rocks down the steep 

 bed of the cafion. So strong was the flow of waters, that 

 the rounded and polished boulders began to move and 

 came rolling down the bed of the stream, creating a vi- 

 bration that filled the air with weird and ominous sounds. 



On the fourth day provisions gave out and a volun- 

 teer was sent down, but the stream caught his horse and 

 swept it away. The following day the clouds melted, 

 the sun broke through and filled the valley, caressing the 

 mountains with its rays, and a week later the face of the 

 land had changed to lighter and warmer tints. 



Once in a fierce storm in the mountains I faced from 

 a divide a fall on the distant slope. At ordinary times 

 it was a slender line of silver, a cord of the mountain 

 lute, but now every cafion, every lateral branch, was 

 running full and the fall was a splendid thing strong 

 and resonant. As I crouched in the saddle in the 



