On we went, trudging through the long grass and picking our way amid the moss-grown trunks of the trees, until our further progress was barred by a rivulet too broad for us to leap. We walked slowly along the bank, seeking a convenient place to cross without getting wet.

“There are a lot of fish in here, I am sure,” said Jimmy, climbing out on a fern draped boulder that overhung the stream and peering into the crystal depths below.

We looked but only caught the reflection of the Duke's mirrored face on the placid surface of the water.

“All that I can see down there, is you, Jimmy,” said Bob. “I say, you chaps, he looks just like that fellow we were reading about in the class the other day – Narcissus, you know; who caught sight of his face in a river once, and thought himself so pretty that he couldn't take his eyes away, and fell in and got drowned!”

“Shut your mouth, you ass!” replied Jimmy, trying to look annoyed. “There you are; I told you there were some fish here; I can see lots.”

“Well, it doesn't matter,” exclaimed de Beaupre “we haven't got anything to catch them with, so they can stop.”

Not very much farther on, the stream narrowed and there were big stones in it which enabled us to cross easily. The ground began to rise towards the cliffs which faced the sea, but Bob took us through a path leading into a picturesque, winding gorge, carpeted with short grass and decked with a profusion of creepers and shrubs, down which a tiny river ran in a succession of little waterfalls and rapids on its way to the ocean. It turned at the end and we emerged straight for the shore.

Before us stretched the broad expanse of the sea, its deep blue surface agitated by a gentle ripple and shining bright beneath the beams of the afternoon sun.