Hardly Had I Run A Hundred Yards, When I Heard The Ringing Of The Bay
And The Deep Voice Of Smut, Mingled With The Roar Of The Waterfall, To
Which I Had Been Running Parallel.
Instantly changing my course, I was
in a few moments on the bank of the river just above the fall.
There
stood the buck at bay in a large pool about three feet deep, where the
dogs could only advance by swimming. Upon my jumping into the pool, he
broke his bay, and, dashing through the dogs, he appeared to leap over
the verge of the cataract, but in reality he took to a deer-path which
skirted the steep side of the wooded precipice. So steep was the
inclination that I could only follow on his track by clinging to the
stems of the trees. The roar of the waterfall, now only a few feet on my
right hand, completely overpowered the voices of the dogs wherever they
might be, and I carefully commenced a perilous descent by the side of
the fall, knowing that both dogs and elk must be somewhere before me. So
stunning was the roar of the water, that a cannon might have been fired
without my hearing it. I was now one-third of the way down the fall,
which was about fifty feet deep. A large flat rock projected from the
side of the cliff, forming a platform of about six feet square, over one
corner of which, the water struck, and again bounded downwards.
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