We skirted it for another half hour or so, the ground growing firmer as we advanced, and presently we turned the corner of a wooded promontory and saw a quite different country--a sudden view of mountains, steep and bare.
"One of those long easterly spurs," Terry said appraisingly.

"May be hundreds of miles from the range.

They crop out like that." Suddenly we left the lake and struck directly toward the cliffs.

We heard running water before we reached it, and the guide pointed proudly to his river.
It was short.

We could see where it poured down a narrow vertical cataract from an opening in the face of the cliff.