Those rock walls, binding us within their scant confines as in a prison, were not particularly precipitous or high, yet our way was sufficiently perilous, leading along a contracted defile, the merest chasm, indeed, steep cliffs rising sheer on either side, merely the raging stream and a ribbonlike path between.

The slight expanse of sky above was blue and clear, but it was sombre and gloomy enough down in that black hollow, where we made difficult progress amid loose bowlders.
Where this snake-like ravine widened out slightly we made choice for our first camp.

We reached there near the sunset hour, although the sun itself had utterly vanished from our view long before, and we moved forward amid a semi-darkness most depressing.

On the spot selected the towering wall of rock on our side of the little river overhung sufficiently to form a comfortable shelter at its base.

I had a goodly supply of fresh pine boughs strewn so as to form a soft bed, while the Puritan busied himself gathering together ample materials for a fire, the reflected light of which caused the deep chasm where we rested to appear more gloomy than before, while scurrying night clouds closed us in as if imprisoned within a grave.
That evening was not devoted to much conversation.