like a speaking-tube between us and the outer world, and conveyed a
timely warning. Was it in time? We were not quite sure of this, for as
we issued from the _cul-de-sac_ we heard the water coming down the
rocks with a very different voice from that which it had not many
minutes before. It was clear that the storm was beginning to tell upon
the stream, and if the rain had been falling for half an hour, as I
had already seen it fall in the Quercy, we might find the work of
recrossing those pools and climbing up the cascades anything but
cheerful. Already where we had been able to walk on dry stones the
water was now up to our ankles. The first cascade to surmount was the
worst. We decided to try it on the side opposite to the one by which
we descended, for we observed a jutting and highly-polished piece of
stalagmite, which promised to help the manoeuvre. One went first, and
the other waited, holding the candle. I was in the rear. When my
companion had reached the top of the cascade, I threw him the coil of
rope--a useless encumbrance, as it happened--and in so doing put out
the candle. Before I was sure that I had a dry match upon me, I failed
to seize the humour, although I felt the novelty of the situation.
During those seconds of uncertainty, the sound of the water--really
fast increasing--seemed to become a deafening roar. However, we both
had dry matches, and were able to relight our candles; but it might
have been otherwise, wet as we were. Without light we should have been
as helpless beneath those rocks as mice in a pitcher. The first
cascade conquered, we felt much more comfortable, for the picture of
being washed into that _cul-de-sac_ had flashed upon the mind of each.

As the next and the next cascade were passed, our spirits rose still
more; and when we saw the gray daylight in the distance, our gaiety
was quite genuine, and we no longer 'laughed yellow,' as the French
phrase it. The stream was rapidly becoming a frantic torrent, but we