A moment more and we rose to a point of view from which the grandest view of a lifetime burst upon our vision.
Opposite, the evening sun was nearing the horizon, before and below us lay the valley; we were upon the very edge of a great mountain slope.

To our right lay the cloud mass, which was all in movement, precipitating itself down the slope into the profound valley.

It was a river of vapors, more than two miles, perhaps, in width, plunging, perhaps, two thousand feet into the abyss.

Niagara, which I have often seen, is a pigmy cataract in comparison.

The cloud mass tossed and heaved, whirled and poured in one enormous sheet over the precipice, breaking into spray as it struck against projecting rock masses.