A rift in the ancient basalt, doubtless the result of an earthquake, formed the canyon of the _Geitlandsá_; later, another flow of lava swept down the valley and stopped at the very brink of this rift so that two great lava flows stand in sight, one above the other. Between these two sheets of lava flows the lost river from the glaciers and here it spurts out in a long series of cascades side by side. It is one of the finest sights in Iceland and one that the traveller in Iceland usually misses because it is off the regular trail. The guides do not always call attention to it and I fear that many of them do not know of its existence. It is a fact that few Icelanders know their own country, even the portion of it which they sometimes attempt to show to tourists. There are a few guides who know the travelled portion and know it thoroughly; these men look askance upon their fellows who act as guides and do not know every detail of the route, its history and its legends. The real Icelandic guide will, if you encourage him the least bit, show every point of interest and relate all the history and the legends. A story is told by the guides at _Reykjavik_ of one of their fellow countrymen who attempted to guide a man from _Geysir_ to _Gullfoss_, a distance of from one and a half to two hours ride. After wandering about the country all day and a part of the night they returned to _Geysir_ without having seen the falls. He will never hear the end of it in _Reykjavik_. We have Ólafur to thank for many profitable hours in his beloved land. The real guide loves every spot to which he takes you and he feels that there is nothing like it, nothing half so good anywhere else in the world. The enthusiastic guide, filled with the love of his country and steeped in its traditions is a boon to a traveller, no matter in what land he seeks new scenes. It was late when we left the falls and so we hastened across the rolling, grass-grown hills to _Reykholt_, Steam-Stead. Down the long slope and across the usual grass bog we rode and into the enclosure by the house where we were welcomed and given comfortable quarters by the pastor. This is historic ground, the site of the stead of _Snorri Sturlason_, “The Herodotus of the north.”