Down the sloping bank we made our way, and entered among the trees and shrubberies.  The bushes were matted, and the trees overhung us, so that the place was disagreeably gloomy; though not dark enough to hide from me the fact that many of the trees were fruit trees, and that, here and there, one could trace indistinctly, signs of a long departed cultivation.  Thus it came to me that we were making our way through the riot of a great and ancient garden.  I said as much to Tonnison, and he agreed that there certainly seemed reasonable grounds for my belief.

What a wild place it was, so dismal and somber!  Somehow, as we went forward, a sense of the silent loneliness and desertion of the old garden grew upon me, and I felt shivery.  One could imagine things lurking among the tangled bushes; while, in the very air of the place, there seemed something uncanny.  I think Tonnison was conscious of this also, though he said nothing.

Suddenly, we came to a halt.  Through the trees there had grown upon our ears a distant sound.  Tonnison bent forward, listening.  I could hear it more plainly now; it was continuous and harsh—­a sort of droning roar, seeming to come from far away.  I experienced a queer, indescribable, little feeling of nervousness.  What sort of place was it into which we had got?  I looked at my companion, to see what he thought of the matter; and noted that there was only puzzlement in his face; and then, as I watched his features, an expression of comprehension crept over them, and he nodded his head.

“That’s a waterfall,” he exclaimed, with conviction.  “I know the sound now.”  And he began to push vigorously through the bushes, in the direction of the noise.

As we went forward, the sound became plainer continually, showing that we were heading straight toward it.  Steadily, the roaring grew louder and nearer, until it appeared, as I remarked to Tonnison, almost to come from under our feet—­and still we were surrounded by the trees and shrubs.

“Take care!” Tonnison called to me.  “Look where you’re going.”  And then, suddenly, we came out from among the trees, on to a great open space, where, not six paces in front of us, yawned the mouth of a tremendous chasm, from the depths of which the noise appeared to rise, along with the continuous, mistlike spray that we had witnessed from the top of the distant bank.

For quite a minute we stood in silence, staring in bewilderment at the sight; then my friend went forward cautiously to the edge of the abyss.  I followed, and, together, we looked down through a boil of spray at a monster cataract of frothing water that burst, spouting, from the side of the chasm, nearly a hundred feet below.

“Good Lord!” said Tonnison.

I was silent, and rather awed.  The sight was so unexpectedly grand and eerie; though this latter quality came more upon me later.

Presently, I looked up and across to the further side of the chasm.  There, I saw something towering up among the spray:  it looked like a fragment of a great ruin, and I touched Tonnison on the shoulder.  He glanced ’round, with a start, and I pointed toward the thing.  His gaze followed my finger, and his eyes lighted up with a sudden flash of excitement, as the object came within his field of view.