"Restless little American spirit," said Lord Canning. "Now if you will hand me that oar—although I appreciate your anxiety to show me everything without delay—I, with my slow English methods—prefer to take things by degrees—if you have no objection, Miss Stillwater; I am enjoying this immensely." "Really," said Indiana doubtfully. "I give you my word. Now let me have things my own way. There’s no necessity to show me the whole lake at once. I would rather prolong the pleasure—" "We’re off!" "Slowly, Miss Stillwater! we’re drifting once more. Ah, look at this giant rock looming above us; how dark and grim—" "That’s called the ’Devil’s Pulpit.’ The water right here is five hundred feet deep." "And a moment ago it was quite shallow. How black and impenetrable—’The Devil’s Pulpit.’ I think I can sniff an odor of sulphur. Five hundred feet deep. How quickly the shallows change to the depths—how quickly—don’t hurry—what a gruesome spot. Just the place for a ghost story—that Indian maiden we were talking of this morning—will she do?" "Well, there was a certain tribe—" "Pardon me, Miss Stillwater. I forgot that story had already been reserved for the camp fire. Everything in its place." "How systematic—" "I don’t believe in taking all the good things at once, like a greedy child—besides, poor Scheherezade’s head is at stake! I would not deprive her of one night’s respite—" "Suppose you tell me a story, Lord Canning—one of your adventures. You have travelled so much, you must have had a very interesting life." "Interesting in one way—barren in another. Don’t lean over like that, please." "Your uncle says you have a passion for exploring." "Yes. I suppose it has never occurred to you, Miss Stillwater, that this passion for exploring, in a man of my settled years—Miss Stillwater, I beg of you to be careful, remember it is five hundred feet. This passion for exploring might exist only for want of another interest—a dear and sacred interest—most men of my age possess. Life has withheld from me, so far—it’s most precious gift. I shall hold it the sweeter when bestowed. Do you find it interesting to peer into the depths, Miss Stillwater?" "Very! They say—" "Yes, what do they say?" "That if you look into them long enough, here at the Devil’s Pulpit, you are seized with an impulse to throw yourself in." "Dear me; well, I have no fear for you at present. But I shall take care you do not come here unaccompanied. What you have told me, however, is a fact which has been often proved. Whether it is a rocky precipice, five hundred feet of water, or a human soul—the depths have a dangerous fascination. Are you afraid, Miss Stillwater? Don’t you wish to leave this dangerous spot?" "I want my story, first." "You will persist in peering into the depths—beware of them!" "I’m not afraid." "No, I don’t think you are." "Well, the story." "Ah, yes—the story—you’re in the mood to listen?"