The midday sun
Far down the narrow gully we could see the passion of water tossing , champed white with the ravening of its jaws , until it took a bend of the cliffs at a leap and rushed from sight . We stood upon a little platform of coarse grass and bramble , whose fringe dipped and nodded fitfully as the sprinkle caught it . Beyond , the sliding sheet of water looked like a great strap of steel , reeled ceaselessly off a whirling drum pivoted between the hills . The midday sun shot like a piston down the shaft of the valley , painting purple spears and angles behind its abutting rocks , and hitting full upon the upper curve of the fall ; but half-way down the cataract slipped into shadow . My brain sickened with the endless gliding and turmoil of descent , and I turned aside to speak to my companion . He was kneeling upon the grass , his eyes fixed and staring , his white lips mumbling some crippled memory of a prayer . He started and cowered down as I touched him on the shoulder .