it was all
I could do to keep the peace between them. Jeff idealized women in the
best Southern style. He was full of chivalry and sentiment, and all
that. And he was a good boy; he lived up to his ideals.

You might say Terry did, too, if you can call his views about women
anything so polite as ideals. I always liked Terry. He was a man's man,
very much so, generous and brave and clever; but I don't think any of
us in college days was quite pleased to have him with our sisters. We
weren't very stringent, heavens no! But Terry was "the limit." Later
on--why, of course a man's life is his own, we held, and asked no
questions.

But barring a possible exception in favor of a not impossible wife, or
of his mother, or, of course, the fair relatives of his friends, Terry's
idea seemed to be that pretty women were just so much game and homely
ones not worth considering.

It was really unpleasant sometimes to see the notions he had.

But I got out of patience with Jeff, too. He had such rose-colored halos
on his womenfolks. I held a middle ground, highly scientific, of course,
and used to argue learnedly about the physiological limitations of the
sex.

We were not in the least "advanced" on the woman question, any of us,
then.

So we joked and disputed and speculated, and after an interminable
journey, we got to our old camping place at last.

It was not hard to find the river, just poking along that side till we
came to it, and it was navigable as far as the lake.

When we reached that and slid out on its broad glistening bosom, with
that high gray promontory running out toward us, and the straight white
fall clearly visible, it began to be really exciting.

There was some talk, even then, of skirting the rock wall and seeking
a possible footway up, but the marshy jungle made that method look not
only difficult but dangerous.

Terry dismissed the plan sharply.

"Nonsense, fellows! We've decided that. It might take months--we haven't
got the provisions. No, sir--we've got to take our chances. If we get
back safe--all right. If we don't, why, we're not the first explorers to
get lost in the shuffle. There are plenty to come after us."

So we got the big biplane together and loaded it with our scientifically
compressed baggage: the camera, of course; the glasses; a supply of
concentrated food. Our pockets were magazines of small necessities, and
we had our guns, of course--there was no knowing what might happen.