steeper cañon, which soon broke off in a blind hollow, ringed in by precipitous banks of heather. And here it was that the stream which filled the channel disappeared. Long Kern was impressive in its very unimpressiveness. It was but a short and narrow slit between two masses of flat white limestone, and across the orifice a fallen boulder made a bridge. Hardly two yards intervened between the one lip and the other. And in that space yawned a solid shaft of black night. Sheer down and down fell the water that filled the chasm, three hundred feet and more, to the rayless labyrinth of caverns that made the heart of the mountain. Coming suddenly across this rift in the moorland one would at first have thought it nothing, a drop, perhaps of a fathom or so. It was terribly inconspicuous and prosaic. Then, stepping along the rocky bridge that crossed it, one might be struck with a suggestion of its possibilities, and, throwing a rock into the darkness, might hear, after a long pause, the crashing rumble of its impact far below, as it bounded and dashed from ledge to ledge and side to side of the gulf, till it sent faintly up to the listener’s ear its last remote thunderous echoes from the black lake three hundred feet below, where the dim roar reverberated along the walls and ramifications of the cavern. On the brink the party paused. Ordinarily the place was lonely and desolate, but to-day there were signs of occupation and activities. Beams were stretched across the narrow gulf, and coils of rope were lying ready. The Rovers were scattered about, making their preparations for the descent. They were a club of professional men from the neighbouring large manufacturing towns, who amused themselves by exploring the recesses of the caves that honeycombed the Simonstone. On many previous occasions Kingston had made their efforts easier. And to-day, for the exploration of Long Kern, he had given them indispensable help by having the rain-swollen stream dammed off. The bed of the river was now nearly dry, and the water diverted into another channel. Otherwise, as Jim had said, the descent would have been impossible. The Rovers were very grateful, accordingly, for this spirited collaboration, and gave the Darnleys a warm welcome. To all four they extended an offer to make the descent, and when it appeared that Ivor Restormel was the only one who would accept their invitation, they showed a little disappointment. With Jim especially they pled to accompany them, tantalizing him cruelly, and were only made to desist at last by the unequivocal firmness of Lady Gundred’s hostility towards the proposal. And so they set about the last preparations. Gaily talking and laughing among themselves, they proceeded to the fastening of ropes and the final arrangements for the descent.