Page:Through South Westland.djvu/312

food. I think the ferns were more varied than in the Rob Roy gorge, but nothing like the lavish variety of the South Westland forest. Overhead the trees kept off the sun, and all the gullies contained tumbling torrents from the glaciers hanging to the mountains on the left. Above one of these gullies Macpherson paused, whittling hard; the Ice-caves must lie farther along those cliffs to the left, and there was a swirling torrent between us and any possible track; he emitted some curious Gaelic ejaculations, and then plunged downward—and we followed, swinging ourselves by creepers and ferns, till we caught him up where he stood on a big boulder out in the water. Between them they helped me on to it too, and beyond where the big Highlander stood lay a churning rapid with one big stone large enough in the middle to hold us both—but the question was, how was I to get there? Gathering himself for the spring, he lit safely on the stone, and turning, stretched out his arms, bidding me jump. I was considerably above him, which made it easier, but I venture to say I never had, and never again shall have, such a leap to make. However, when the question is of being left behind or taking the risk, one never hesitates long—and I jumped. I felt his big arms close round me, and we pirouetted wildly for one moment, trying to keep our balance, and then—over we went into the tumbling water! He never let go, and landed me unharmed on the other side, none the worse beyond wet feet. And soon