The black horse struck Lucy as
being an ugly, but a faithful and wonderful animal. He understood everything.
Presently she tied the bridle she was leading him by to the end of her own
lasso, and thus let him drop back a few yards, which lessened the King's
fretting.
Intent on the trail, Lucy failed to note time or distance till the looming and
frowning monuments stood aloft before her. What weird effect they had! Each
might have been a colossal statue left there to mark the work of the ages.
Lucy realized that the whole vast valley had once been solid rock, just like
the monuments, and through the millions of years the softer parts had eroded
and weathered and blown away--gone with the great sea that had once been
there. But the beauty, the solemnity, the majesty of these monuments
fascinated her most. She passed the first one, a huge square butte, and then
the second, a ragged, thin, double shaft, and then went between two much
alike, reaching skyward in the shape of monstrous mittens. She watched and
watched them, sparing a moment now and then to attend to the trail.
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