itted that it _was_ vexing. As if by one impulse, the whole
party then sat down to rest, and at that moment, having, as it were,
valiantly asserted his right of independent action, the bear turned
slowly round and quietly scrambled through the hole. The men sprang up;
the massive iron bars were shot into their sockets with a clang; and
bruin was a prisoner for life.

As neither Edward Sinton nor Tom Collins had any particular desire to
become bear-catchers, they bade their new friends adieu that afternoon,
and continued their journey. The road, as they advanced, became more
and more steep and rugged, so that they could only proceed at a walk,
and in many places experienced considerable difficulty, and ran no
little risk, in passing along the faces of cliffs, where the precipices
ascended hundreds of feet upwards like walls, on the one hand, and
descended sheer down into an unfathomable abyss, on the other. But the
exceeding grandeur of the scenery amply repaid their toils, and the deep
roar of that mighty cataract ever sounded in their ears. At length they
reached the head of the valley, and stood under the spray of the fall,
which, expanding far above and around the seething caldron whence it
sprang, drenched the surrounding country with perpetual showers.

Here a gap or pass in the mountains was discovered, ascending on the
left, and affording, apparently, an exit from the valley. Up this the
travellers toiled until they cleared the spray of the falls, and then
sat down beside a clump of trees to dry their garments in the sunshine
and to cook their mid-day meal.

"What a glorious thing it is, Tom, to wander thus unrestrained amid such
scenes!" said Ned Sinton, as he busied himself roasting a piece of
venison, which his rifle had procured but half-an-hour before. "How
infinitely more delightful than travelling in the civilised world, where
one is cheated at every turn, and watched and guarded as if robbery, or
murder, or high treason were the only probable objects a traveller could
have in view."

"`Comparisons,' my dear fellow--you know the proverb," replied Tom
Collins; "don't uphold California at the expense of the continent.
Besides, there are many in this world who would rather a thousand times
wander by the classic lake of Como, with its theatrical villas and its
enchanting sunshine and perfume, or paddle up the castellated Rhine,
than scramble here among wild rocks, and woods, and cataracts, with the