It must have been the terrible rain, or the fright of her dark journeying place, that had taken her strength away:--the wandering Brooklet felt that it must be: for now her strength of will was almost gone. Nearer the log top came in view, until with a bound she swept its polished surface, and with a dash came over upon the ambitious Brooklet. "Good! that's the way to do it; now we shall journey gayly on," said the latter, "I have lost much time in stopping here, and there are such rare sights ahead!" The wanderer felt the oddest sensations she had ever known, and said, "Sister--ambitious sister--how much warmer than I are you!" "Oh, you are young, I suppose--fresh from the icy spring. But journey on more southward yet, away from these dark trees, and you'll be warmer yet; come, I say." "I like your feel; but then I shall be lost, I know I shall; and so I'll stay behind." "You cannot; for, ambitious as I am, I want your help. See how much faster we travel together when your strength is joined to mine; and I'm the strongest, and you can't go back." The wandering Brooklet looked fearfully around, and saw indeed that the log she had leaped was now fast fading away, and felt that her strength became less and less as the ambitious Brooklet clung closer to her side. Presently they came in sight of a ledge of rocks. "Oh, this is rare indeed!" said the stronger sister Brooklet, "Let us pause a bit for breath, and then for a merry leap adown the valley of pines you see before." The Brooklets stopped, and became stronger, and leaped over the rocks; the one with an exulting bound--the other carried tremblingly along. The leap was a long one, and a hard one; for there were craggy rocks beneath, which they had not seen. And the ambitious Brooklet cried sharply and loudly--foaming in her rage as she went between the stony points, and quite forgetting her weaker sister in her pain. The latter was sorely injured too, and cut into little foam-bits; but she kept her wits about her, looking around everywhere for a place to rest. Soon she espied one--a little bowl of marshy ground, hemmed in by rocks, into which a straggling dropping from the chasm above slowly came. "Here will I go and rest," she said. So waiting for the ambitious Brooklet to get far out of sight, she collected all her strength for a jump into the bowl, where the drops came sparkling in. There was no need for fear of the sister on before; her she heard going over rock after rock, crying and wailing in her craggy journey. Then the tired wanderer, with a violent effort of her exhausted strength, jumped a rock and fell panting into the marshy bowl. CHAPTER II. _How the Brooklet lived on in her new quarters; and how misfortune made her discontented._