unged
in deeper and deeper till he was surrounded by the raging torrent on
the very verge of the great fissure. Was it possible he was going to
force his horse into it? Surely the man must be crazy.

"Stop, Zoega! stop!" I shouted, at the top of my voice; "you'll be
swept over the precipice. There's a great gap in the river just before
you."

"All right, sir!" cried Zoega. "Come on, sir!"

Again and again I called to him to stop but he seemed to lose my voice
in the roar of the falling waters. Dashing about after the scattered
animals, he whipped them all up to the brink of the precipice, and
then quietly walked his own horse across on what looked to me like a
streak of foam. The others followed, and in a few minutes they all
stood safely on the opposite bank. I thought this was very strange. A
remote suspicion flashed across my mind that Zoega was in league with
some of those water-spirits which are said to infest the rivers of
Iceland. Wondering what they would say to a live Californian, I
plunged in and followed the route taken by my guide. Upon approaching
the middle of the river I discovered that what appeared to be a streak
of foam was in reality a wooden platform stretched across the chasm
and covered by a thin sheet of water. It was pinned down to the rocks
at each end, and was well braced with rafters underneath. From this
the river derives its name--Bruara, or the Bridge.

The general aspect of the country differed but little from what I have
already attempted to describe. Vast deserts of lava, snow-capped
mountains in the distance, a few green spots here and there, and no
apparent sign of habitation--these were its principal features. Below
the falls the scene was peculiarly wild and characteristic. Tremendous
masses of lava cast at random amid the roaring waters; great fissures
splitting the earth asunder in all directions; every where marks of
violent convulsion. In the following sketch I have endeavored to
depict some of these salient points. When it is taken into
consideration that the wind blew like a hurricane through the craggy
ravines; that the rain and spray whirled over, and under, and almost
through me; that it was difficult to stand on any elevated spot
without danger of being blown over, I hope some allowance will be made
for the imperfections of the performance.

[Illustration: BRIDGE RIVER.]

About midway between Thingvalla and the Geysers we descended into a
beautiful little valley,