A little frown creased her brow⁠—one of apprehension.

Yes, I was happy, but beyond that I had the curious feeling that I was waiting for something⁠—something that would happen soon. I was excited⁠—restless.

After tea we strolled out, got on the trolley and were pushed by smiling blacks down the little tracks of rails to the bridge.

It was a marvellous sight, the great chasm and the rushing waters below, and the veil of mist and spray in front of us that parted every now and then for one brief minute to show the cataract of water and then closed up again in its impenetrable mystery. That, to my mind, has always been the fascination of the falls⁠—their elusive quality. You always think you’re going to see⁠—and you never do.

We crossed the bridge and walked slowly on by the path that was marked out with white stone on either side and led round the brink of the gorge. Finally we arrived in a big clearing where on the left a path led downwards towards the chasm.