Every movement of whirling and plunging water was there; the rapid above the fall, the plunge, the whirlpool, the wild rush of whirlpool rapids, all were there, but all silent, fearfully and impressively silent.

We could have stood there gazing for hours, but night was coming and a stretch of unknown road still lay before us.

At the other end of the valley, in the dusk of early evening, we saw a second cataract pouring in.

From both ends the cloud rivers were rushing in to fill the valley, along the edge of which we crept.

And presently we plunged down again into the mists; night fell; our trail was barely visible, and we had to trust to our horses to find it; the air was cold and penetrating.