"It is rather long and rather steep," said Mrs. Hope; "but it is lovely if
you only go a little way in, and you and I will sit down the moment you
feel tired, and let the others go forward."

South Cheyenne Canyon was indeed "entirely different." Instead of a
green-floored, vine-hung ravine, it is a wild mountain gorge, walled with
precipitous cliffs of great height; and its river--every canyon has a
river--comes from a source at the top of the gorge in a series of mad
leaps, forming seven waterfalls, which plunge into circular basins of
rock, worn smooth by the action of the stream. These pools are curiously
various in shape, and the color of the water, as it pauses a moment to
rest in each before taking its next plunge, is beautiful. Little plank
walks are laid along the river-side, and rude staircases for the steepest
pitches. Up these the party went, leaving Mrs. Watson and Mrs. Hope far
behind,--Poppy with her habit over her arm, Clover stopping every other
moment to pick some new flower, Phil shying stones into the rapids as he
passed,--till the top of the topmost cascade was reached, and looking back
they could see the whole wonderful way by which they had climbed, and down
which the river made its turbulent rush. Clover gathered a great mat of
green scarlet-berried vine like glorified cranberry, which Dr. Hope told
her was the famous kinnikinnick, and was just remarking on the cool
water-sounds which filled the place, when all of a sudden these sounds
seemed to grow angry, the defile of precipices turned a frowning blue, and
looking up they saw a great thunder-cloud gathering overhead.

"We must run," cried Dr. Hope, and down they flew, racing at full speed
along the long flights of steps and the plank walks, which echoed to the
sound of their flying feet. Far below they could see two fast-moving
specks which they guessed to be Mrs. Hope and Mrs. Watson, hurrying to a
place of shelter. Nearer and nearer came the storm, louder the growl of