Over north there are
mountains and mountains, one behind the other, till the last peaks are
white cones against the blue sky. There is a bluff straight across us
that goes up and up in five-hundred-foot ledges like masonry, with
hundred-foot firs on each bench that look like toy trees from here.
"I used to call that gorge there"--her pointing finger found the mark
again--"The Black Hole. It is always full of shadows in summer, and in
winter the slides rumble and crash into it with a noise like the end
of the world. Did you ever listen to the slides muttering and
grumbling last winter when you were here, Bob?"
"Yes, I used to hear them day and night."
They stood silent a second or two. The little falls roared above them.
The river whispered at their feet. A blue-jay perched on the roof of
their house and began his harsh complaint to an unheeding world, into
which a squirrel presently broke with vociferous reply. An up-river
breeze rustled the maple leaves, laid cooling fingers from salt water
on Hollister's face, all sweaty from his labor with the paddle.
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