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It seemed to him that he had become
more thoughtful and observing of the aspects of his wild environment, and he
felt a welcome consciousness of loneliness. Then sleep came to him and the
night seemed short. In the gray dawn he arose refreshed.
The horses were restive. Nagger snorted a welcome. Evidently they had passed
an uneasy night. Slone found lion tracks at the spring and in sandy places.
Presently he was on his way up to the notch between the great wall and the
plateau. A growth of thick scrub-oak made travel difficult. It had not
appeared far up to that saddle, but it was far. There were straggling
pine-trees and huge rocks that obstructed his gaze. But once up he saw that
the saddle was only a narrow ridge, curved to slope up on both sides.
Straight before Slone and under him opened the canyon, blazing and glorious
along the peaks and ramparts, where the rising sun struck, misty and smoky and
shadowy down in those mysterious depths.
It took an effort not to keep on gazing. But Slone turned to the grim business
of his pursuit.


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