In Half An Hour From This We Were Clear Of The Mountains.
There was
a plain before us, totally barren and thickly peopled in many parts
with the little prairie dogs, who sat at the mouths of their burrows
and yelped at us as we passed.
The plain, as we thought, was about
six miles wide; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another
mountain range rose before us, grander and more wild than the last
had been. Far out of the dense shrubbery that clothed the steeps for
a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning one way, and
shattered by storms and thunder into grim and threatening shapes. As
we entered a narrow passage on the trail of the Indians, they
impended frightfully on one side, above our heads.
Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and twinkling
sunlight of overhanging boughs. I would I could recall to mind all
the startling combinations that presented themselves, as winding from
side to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see,
glancing at intervals through the foliage, the awful forms of the
gigantic cliffs, that seemed at times to hem us in on the right and
on the left, before us and behind! Another scene in a few moments
greeted us; a tract of gray and sunny woods, broken into knolls and
hollows, enlivened by birds and interspersed with flowers. Among the
rest I recognized the mellow whistle of the robin, an old familiar
friend whom I had scarce expected to meet in such a place.
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