With the early dawn they were all up and ready for the homeward journey,--though with very different feelings to those with which they had started on their expedition. The morning was dazzlingly bright and clear,--and the cataract of Njedegorze rolled down in glittering folds of creamy white and green, uttering its ceaseless psalm of praise to the Creator in a jubilant roar of musical thunder. They paused and looked at it for the last time before leaving,--it had assumed for them a new and solemn aspect--it was Sigurd's grave. The bonde raised his cap from his rough white hair,--instinctively the others followed his example.
"May the gods grant him good rest!" said the old man reverently. "In the wildest waters they say there is a calm underflow,--maybe the lad has found it and is glad to sleep." He paused and stretched his hands forth with an eloquent and touching gesture. "Peace be with him!"
Then, without more words, and as though disdaining his own emotion, he turned abruptly away, and began to descend the stony and precipitous hill, up which Sigurd had so skillfully guided them the day before. Macfarlane and Duprèz followed him close,--Macfarlane casting more than once a keen look over the rapids.
"'Tis a pity we couldna find his body," he said in a low tone.
Duprèz shrugged his shoulders. Sigurd's death had shocked him considerably by its suddenness, but he was too much of a volatile Frenchman to be morbidly anxious about securing the corpse.
"I think not so at all," he said. "Of what use would it be? To grieve mademoiselle? to make her cry? That would be cruel,--I would not assist in it! A dead body is not a sight for ladies,--believe me, things are best as they are."
They went on, while Errington and Lorimer lingered yet a moment longer.
"A magnificent sepulchre!" said Lorimer, dreamily eyeing for the last time the sweeping flow of the glittering torrent. "Better than all the monuments ever erected! Upon my life, I would not mind having such a grave myself! Say what you like, Phil, there was something grand in Sigurd's choice of a death. We all of us have to get out of life somehow one day--that's certain--but few of us have the chance of making such a triumphant exit!"
Errington looked at him with a grave smile. "How you talk, George!" he said half-reproachfully. "One would think you envied the end of that unfortunate, half-witted fellow! You've no reason to be tired of your life, I'm sure,--all your bright days are before you."