The prospects farther up were no better than below. The water was fast-moving and tumbled over jagged rocks and enormous boulders in the streambed. It looked shallower here, probably little more than waist-deep, but the current was treacherous. One false step could sweep a man’s legs from under him and carry him over the falls to the rocks below. The watercourse farther upstream was even worse, with steep banks sloping sharply upward on either side, with no room for a man to even stand at water level, much less cross it. Some other way would have to be found, perhaps farther downstream, below the falls.

With a quick grimace of frustration, Morgan turned to begin climbing back down the cliff face, Duncan waiting above him to follow. But no sooner had Morgan begun his descent, than Duncan glanced below and froze, reaching to touch Morgan’s shoulder in alarm.

“Alaric, get down!” he whispered, flattening himself against the rock and restraining his cousin with a warning hand. “Get down, and then don’t move. Look behind you, quietly!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Make thy shadow as the night in the midst of the noonday…”

ISAIAH 16:3

HUGGING the cliff face, Morgan turned his head slowly and peered over the edge to where Duncan pointed. At first he could see nothing out of the ordinary: merely one of the horses placidly cropping grass beside the stream bank below.

Then he realized he couldn’t see the other horse—and caught a flash of movement farther underneath him, closer to the falls. He leaned out farther to see what the motion had been, then froze in astonishment. He could hardly believe what he saw.

Four children, their heads tousled and damp, homespun tunics plastered close to their bodies, were leading the second horse into the water at the edge of the waterfall. The horse was hoodwinked with what looked like the blanket from the saddle’s pack, and one of the children held his hand on the animal’s nose to keep it from nickering as they urged it into the cold stream. The oldest of the four appeared to be a boy of about eleven; the youngest could not have been more than seven.

“What the devil?” Morgan murmured, hazarding an astonished glance at Duncan.

Duncan pursed his lips grimly, then moved as though to start down the slope after them. “Come on. The little thieves are going to steal both horses if we don’t stop them.” Morgan could only barely hear him above the roar of the water.

“No, wait.” Morgan grabbed Duncan’s cloak and halted him in mid-motion, watching as children and horse waded toward the falls in a patch of calm water. “You know, I think those beastly urchins have a way across. Look.”

Even as Morgan spoke, horse and children disappeared behind the falls. Morgan glanced around, then scrambled partway down the side of the cliff, beckoning Duncan to join him behind a rocky outcropping. As they took cover, horse and children reappeared at the other side of the falls, drenched and shivering, but none the worse for wear. The youngest of the four, a girl by the long braids dripping down her back, scrambled up the embankment with some assistance from her companions, then took the reins and led the snorting horse up and out of the water. As the girl calmed the frightened animal, pulling the blanket from its head to begin wiping it down, the other three children disappeared into the falls once more.