She agreed doubtfully, but said we would discuss it again when we got to the falls.

Our train went at nine o’clock. Sir Eustace’s temper was still far from good, and Miss Pettigrew looked subdued. Colonel Race was completely himself. I felt that I had dreamed the whole conversation on the way back.

I slept heavily that night on my hard bunk, struggling with ill-defined, menacing dreams. I awoke with a headache and went out on the observation platform of the car. It was fresh and lovely, and everywhere, as far as one could see, were the undulating wooded hills. I loved it⁠—loved it more than any place I had ever seen. I wished then that I could have a little hut somewhere in the heart of the scrub and live there always⁠—always.⁠ ⁠…

Just before half-past two, Colonel Race called me out from the “office” and pointed to a bouquet-shaped white mist that hovered over one portion of the bush.

“The spray from the falls,” he said. “We are nearly there.”