Nevertheless, if we found Duare, I was going to be faced by a problem. One girl must go down the valley in search of her own country, the other up the valley! And only one of them had even a hazy idea of where her country lay! XII THE LAST SECOND During the afternoon of the second day of our search for Duare Nalte and I came to the big river that Duare and I had seen from the summit of the escarpment, the same river down which Nalte had drifted into the clutches of Skor. And it was a big river, comparable to the Mississippi. It ran between low cliffs of gleaming white limestone, flowing silently out of the mystery above, flowing silently toward the mystery below. Upon its broad expanse, from where it swept majestically into sight around a low promontory to where it disappeared again beyond a curve down stream, there was no sign of life, nor on either bank--only the girl, Nalte, and I. I felt the awe of its grandeur and my own insignificance. I had no words to express my thoughts; and I was glad that Nalte stood in silence that was almost reverential as we viewed the majesty and the desolation of the scene. Presently the girl sighed. It awoke me to the need of the moment. I could not stand mooning there in the face of the immediate necessity that confronted us. "Well," I said, "this is not crossing the river." I referred to the affluent that we had followed down from the castle of Skor. "I am glad that we do not have to cross the big river," remarked Nalte. "We may have enough trouble crossing this other," I suggested. It flowed at our left, making a sudden turn before it emptied into the larger stream. Below us was a great eddy that had strewn the nearer bank with flotsam--leaves, twigs, branches of all sizes, and even the boles of great trees. These things appeared to have been deposited during a period of high water. "How are we going to cross?" asked Nalte. "There is no ford, and it seems too wide and swift to swim even if I were a good swimmer." She looked up at me quickly then as a new thought seemed to strike her. "I am a burden to you," she said. "If you were alone you would doubtless be able to cross easily. Pay no attention to me; I shall remain on this side and start up the river on my journey toward Andoo." I looked down at her and smiled. "You really do not believe or hope that I will do anything of the sort." "It would be the sensible thing to do," she said. "The sensible thing to do is to build a raft with some of that stuff down there and float across the river." I pointed to the débris piled up on the bank. "Why, we could do that, couldn't we?" she cried. She was all eagerness and excitement now, and a moment later she pitched in and helped me drag out such pieces as I thought we could use in the construction of a raft.