A LESSON IN BRIDGE-MAKING. 
209 
twenty-four hours, by rafting down a swift and deep 
river. The lieutenant made a rough guess at proportions, 
and marked a scale of miles on the margin of his map — 
as the reader can do if he likes. On Richard's map he 
allowed about forty miles to an inch. 
The second day passed without special incident. Al- 
though there was no defined trail, the walking was far 
easier than Mr. Button had found it along the Pelly. 
Peeschee seemed to choose by instinct the exact route by 
which the original draughtsman of the strange map had 
found his way to the great peak of cinnabar. 
In the forenoon of the third day, a new sound fell 
upon their ears. It was a dull roar, like that of a pass- 
ing railway train. 
Solomon was the first to notice it. 
The party halted and listened. 
" Ef I was in any kind of a decent country," remarked 
the hunter, after a momentary silence, I should guess 
we were comin' to a waterfall, an' a mighty big one at 
that." 
Peeschee nodded several times intelligently, and pointed 
to the vertical marks crossing the trail on the lieutenant's 
map. He then scrambled on ahead with the utmost 
agility, much pleased at striking the first landmark cor- 
rectly. 
The thunder of the waters grew deeper as they ad- 
vanced, until the ground itself seemed fairly to shake 
beneath their feet. Soon a mist was seen rising above 
