Herland | Page 6

This water was somewhat clearer than that we had left, but
we could not judge well from the margin. We skirted it for
another half hour or so, the ground growing firmer as we
advanced, and presently we turned the corner of a wooded
promontory and saw a quite different country--a sudden view
of mountains, steep and bare.

"One of those long easterly spurs," Terry said appraisingly.
"May be hundreds of miles from the range. They crop out like that."

Suddenly we left the lake and struck directly toward the
cliffs. We heard running water before we reached it, and the
guide pointed proudly to his river.

It was short. We could see where it poured down a narrow
vertical cataract from an opening in the face of the cliff. It was
sweet water. The guide drank eagerly and so did we.

"That's snow water," Terry announced. "Must come from
way back in the hills."

But as to being red and blue--it was greenish in tint. The
guide seemed not at all surprised. He hunted about a little and
showed us a quiet marginal pool where there were smears of red
along the border; yes, and of blue.

Terry got out his magnifying glass and squatted down to
investigate.

"Chemicals of some sort--I can't tell on the spot. Look to me
like dyestuffs. Let's get nearer," he urged, "up there by the fall."

We scrambled along the steep banks and got close to the pool
that foamed and boiled beneath the falling water. Here we
searched the border and found traces of color beyond dispute.
More--Jeff suddenly held up an unlooked-for trophy.

It was only a rag, a long, raveled fragment of cloth. But it was
a well-woven fabric, with a pattern, and of a clear scarlet that the
water had not faded. No savage tribe that we had heard of made
such fabrics.

The guide stood serenely on the bank, well pleased with our
excitement.

"One day blue--one day red--one day green," he told us, and
pulled from his pouch another strip of bright-hued cloth.

"Come down," he said, pointing to the cataract. "Woman
Country--up there."

Then we were interested. We had our rest and lunch right
there and pumped the man for further information. He could tell
us only what the others had--a land of women--no men--babies,
but all girls. No place for men--dangerous. Some had gone
to see--none had come back.

I could see Terry's jaw set at that. No place for men?
Dangerous? He looked as if he might shin up the waterfall on the spot.
But the guide would not hear of going up, even if there had been
any possible method of scaling that sheer cliff, and we had to get
back to our party before night.

"They might stay if we told them," I suggested.

But Terry stopped in his tracks. "Look here, fellows," he said.
"This is our find. Let's not tell those cocky old professors. Let's
go on home with 'em, and then come back--just us--have a little
expedition of our own."

We looked at him, much impressed. There was something
attractive to a bunch of unattached young men in finding an
undiscovered country of a strictly Amazonian nature.

Of course we didn't believe the story--but yet!

"There is no such cloth made by any of these local tribes,"
I announced, examining those rags with great care. "Somewhere
up yonder they spin and weave and