The probability is that it is one of those natural curiosities so
common in Iceland which defy research. The whole country is full of
anomalies--bogs where one would expect to find dry land, and parched
deserts where it would not seem strange to see bogs; fire where water
ought to be, and water in the place of fire.

While the pack-train followed the trail, Zoega suggested that the
Tintron had never been sketched, and if I felt disposed to "take it
down"--as he expressed it--he would wait for me in the valley below;
so I took it down.

During this day's journey we crossed many small rivers which had been
much swollen by the recent rains. The fording-places, however, were
generally good, and we got over them without being obliged to swim our
horses. One river, the Bruara, gave me some uneasiness. When we
arrived at the banks it presented a very formidable obstacle. At the
only place where it was practicable to reach the water it was a raging
torrent over fifty yards wide, dashing furiously over a bed of lava
with a velocity and volume that bade apparent defiance to any attempt
at crossing. In the middle was a great fissure running parallel with
the course of the water, into which the current converged from each
side, forming a series of cataracts that shook the earth, and made a
loud reverberation from the depths below.

[Illustration: THE TINTRON ROCK.]

I stopped on an elevated bank to survey the route before us. There
seemed to be no possible way of getting over. It was all a wild
roaring flood plunging madly down among the rocks. While I was
thinking what was to be done, Zoega, with a crack of his whip, drove
the animals into the water and made a bold dash after them. It then
occurred to me that there was a good deal of prudence in the advice
given by an Icelandic traveler: "_Never go into a river till your
guide has tried it._" Should Zoega be swept down over the cataract, as
appeared quite probable, there would be no necessity for me to follow
him. I had a genuine regard for the poor fellow, and it would pain me
greatly to lose him; but then he was paid so much per day for risking
his life, and how could I help it if he chose to pursue such a
perilous career? Doubtless he had come near being drowned many a time
before; he seemed to be used to it. All I could do for him in the
present instance would be to break the melancholy intelligence to his
wife as tenderly as possible. While thus philosophizing, Zoega pl