d’Enfer is reached; and the Pont d’Arrouge in another quarter of an hour.  A similar length of time is still necessary to reach a small tower whence a good view of the Gouffre d’Enfer and the Pont de Nadie, above it, can be enjoyed.  This tower is about a mile distant from the foot of the lowest fall.  The other cascade (the Cascade du Coeur) is not a very difficult twenty minutes’ walk by a path that leads through the trees to Lac Vert, and as there is a capital inn there (later in the season), we think that this would be a good spot for lunch.  Even as it was, we managed to enjoy ours pretty well, for fresh air and sunshine are good appetisers, and the ride had added its effect besides.  The return ride in the afternoon, when the sun was commencing to decline a little, was very pleasant, and the snow-covered Port de Venasque, so beautiful in its whiteness, and yet for the same reason quite inaccessible, looked very lovely when tinged with the crimson hue that the setting sun shot o’er it, as we arrived in Luchon again.

[Illustration:  THE RUE D’ENFER AND CASCADES.]

The following morning broke beautifully fine, and Luis Sanson was at the door punctually at seven, with the horses for our trip up to Superbagneres.

The saddle-bags were again filled, and away we went, the horses—­still so fresh—­being eager for a canter in the fresh morning air.  In summer the ascent is usually made by St. Aventin and the Granges de Gouron, in which case the road towards the Col de Peyresourde is followed as far as St. Aventin, and thence a way leading to the left; but we were too early for that route, as an avalanche had only lately fallen, so were obliged to go and return by the route used in the season for the return only, viz., by the “Pont de Ravi” up the Vallee de la Pique.  Having reached the bridge and taken the path indicated by the sign-board on the right, we were soon among the trees, which lent a very welcome shade from the increasing heat, which even at this early hour (7.40 A.M.) the glorious Sol was not ashamed to diffuse.

At every fresh turn the strokes of the axe rang through the wood, mingled with the sound of voices, and after making considerable progress—­during which our guide narrated incidents in his career as hunter, guide, and jockey—­we arrived in view of a very lively scene.  Workmen busy with the hatchet, the saw, and the plane, in the foreground; others in the rear occupied with mortar and stones, building a small but substantial house; a cart with oxen lazily waiting, like Mr. Micawber, for “something to turn up”; a few superior individuals in deep consultation, and the irrepressible sun struggling through the beeches and pines to have “his finger in the pie”—­such was the scene we saw, but soon left behind.  After this the good broad carriage-road soon came to an end, and the easy gradient changed to a steep path among a grove of nothing but beeches, which emerged later on the slope