I had taken my
death of cold already--hoogh! In with you, Ensign, and hasten back."

The water in leaping over the edge of the precipice left a space of a
foot or more between the falling sheet and the face of the rock. By this
path Lawe passed under the fall. He noted that the light shone through
the tumbling stream as through a frosted window, and made every object
within visible. Above him was a roof and beside him a wall of rushing
water, whose loud, steady roar, as it fell into the pool, quite drowned
the sound of his voice. In a moment he was drenched with spray. The
stones over which he stepped were wet and slippery, and compelled
careful walking. Presently Dew stopped before an opening in the rock,
and beckoned Lawe to follow her.

He entered an irregular cave which stretched backward into the cliff as
far as the eye could reach. It was dark at first, but as soon as his
eyes became used to the change, Lawe could see the objects around the
opening, and faintly those further in. Upon the roof were hanging
stalactites white as sea foam, some tapering to points and dropping like
icicles, some just touching or blending with like formations called
stalagmites, which rose from various spots upon the floor like marble
pillars. These beautiful white formations were also spread over the
walls of the cave wherever the water had trickled down, and some of them
looked like serpents, or roots of trees carved in marble.

Far back toward the end of the cave Lawe saw in the dim light an
old-looking Elf, who seemed to be in an uncomfortable state of mind and
body. He was clad as scantily as propriety would allow, indeed was naked
from the waist up. A long white beard fell upon his bare breast. He sat
upon a rude Gothic chair, not unlike the big pulpit seat which the
minister sits in on Sundays, which had been formed, by some freak of the
cave Sprites, from the interweaving and massing of stalactites and
stalagmites. He held in his hand a huge fan made from the feathers of a
snow bird, with which he fanned himself so vigorously that his long
beard was blown about over his chest, and his white hair was kept
streaming behind him. Considering how chilly was the cave, Lawe thought
this strange behavior.

"Who is that?" he asked. "He looks like Saint Nicholas in his summer
retreat. Is that your husband?"

"Oh, bless you, no,--no indeed!" laughed Fairy Dew. "That is my half
brother Frost. He gets little comfort in this country unti