One
Might Fancy The Entire Race Of Shrubs Was Dying Out; For One You See
Partially Alive There Are Twenty Skeletons Which Fall To Pieces As
You Brush Past Them.
It is downhill the first part of the way, that is to say, the trend
of the land is downhill, for be it down or up, the details of it are
rugged mounds and masses of burnt-out lava rock.
It is evil going,
but perhaps not quite so evil as the lower hillocks of the great
wall where the rocks are hidden beneath long slippery grass. We
wind our way in between the mounds, or clamber over them, or
scramble along their sides impartially. The general level is then
flat, and then comes a rise towards the peak wall, so we steer
N.N.E. until we strike the face of the peak, and then commence a
stiff rough climb.
We keep as straight as we can, but get driven at an angle by the
strange ribs of rock which come straight down. These are most
tiresome to deal with, getting worse the higher we go, and so rotten
and weather-eaten are they that they crumble into dust and fragments
under our feet. Head man gets half a dozen falls, and when we are
about three parts of the way up Xenia gives in. The cold and the
climbing are too much for him, so I make him wrap himself up in his
blanket, which he is glad enough of now, and shelter in a depression
under one of the many rock ridges, and Head man and I go on.
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