e Sanga-moarta's first
look was to see if the bed of the stream had been overflowed by the
war of the waters. But the mass of snow had plunged into the lake
without raising it a foot; all had disappeared in the bottomless
depths; a mountain lake neither rises nor falls.

"Let us go on our way," said Sanga-moarta. "It will be all the easier
now that the rock is wet, to climb down."

In the course of half an hour they had reached the mouth of the
stream. A wonderful passage opened before them. The stream had its
source in a warm spring, which following the course of the valley, was
buried under mountains and avalanches. The warm water had hollowed out
a covered passage, so melting the ice that only its outer surface
remained frozen, and this was constantly added to by the influence of
the atmosphere, while within it was as constantly melted by the warmth
of the spring; the result was that the stream flowed under a crystal
archway with glittering icicles. Into this passage Sanga-moarta led
his companions. Clement could only think of the magic palaces in fairy
tales, where the enchanted mortal got the sunlight through transparent
water. As they were wading along the stream at one point the
underground passage suddenly grew dark. Heavy masses took the place of
the transparent vaulting. The crusting of ice was thicker; it changed
to dark blue, and to black; the noise of the waters was the only
guide. The men, up to their knees in the water, found it growing
warmer and warmer until finally they heard a hissing, and through a
cleft in the rock caught sight of the sunlight once more. At the
source of the spring, as they clung to some bushes to resist the force
of the boiling waters, they found themselves in a deep, well-like
valley.

"We are in the Gregyina-Drakuluj."

It is a round valley with mountains rising about it several hundred
feet high. If you would look down from their summits you must crawl on
your stomach to the edge of the cliff, and then unless you have strong
nerves you will fall from the dizzying height. In this valley-bed
below the flowers are always in bloom; in the sternest winter season
here you can find those dark green plants with broad indented leaves;
those small round-leaved trees that are nowhere else in the country.
The yellow cups of the leather-leaved water-lilies open just at this
time. The place is covered, summer and winter, with freshest green;
the wild laurel climbs high in the crevices of