idly until you could
look into their topmost branches without raising your eyes, while on the
other side they trooped noiselessly upward, like some great, silent army,
showing only their weather-beaten bodies.

As the boys hastened down this trail, deeper into the land of
enchantment, their enthusiasm knew no bounds.

"I've about changed my mind about the location of the Garden of Eden,"
Ham sung out.

"That's the twentieth time," announced Chuck.

"We're just on the edge of it yet," shouted Mr. Allen. "Let's hurry and
get into it."

The trail began immediately to descend, and before they knew it the party
found themselves beside a crystal stream that seemed to be lost in a
narrow park of great trees and mighty boulders. The trail crossed the
stream by an ancient corduroy bridge, then off it ran again up the
opposite side of the canyon, penetrating deeper into the quiet forest.

"This is the forest primeval,
The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,"

quoted Ham. There was a perfume of the forest dampness in the air. Every
tree seemed to shelter a bird family or a host of squirrels, to say
nothing of the tiny creatures that made chorus together from their hiding
places. Softly filtering through the trees came the constant melody of a
waterfall, now far away, now just ahead, crying, laughing, sobbing, in a
strange intermingling of feeling.

The trail made a sharp turn to the left, the trees suddenly came to an
end, and in their place were large piles of mossy, ragged boulders. The
canyon ended in a perpendicular, moss-covered wall, hundreds of feet
high, and from the top of this wrinkled old cliff leaped the stream into
the canyon below. On an old tin sign, fastened to the stump of an immense
tree, were the words, "St. Marys." Directly at the base of the falls, and
at their extreme edge, stood a grand old spruce tree, straight and clean
as an arrow, its slender top reaching nearly to the top of the falls.
They seemed to be happy comrades, for the tree was gently vibrating with
the soft, half-wild music of the crystal stream.

After every nook and cranny had been explored, the group began to retrace
their steps down the canyon.

"Isn't it a wonderful little spot?" asked Phil, as they sat down by the
bridge to rest. "Who do you suppose ever built this trail away up here?
See, it has been dug from the very mountain-side in many places, and this
bridge wasn't built as a mere footbridge--it was built to support heavy