After
about an hour we began to go up the steepest hills on the winding track,
and got among pine trees and great boulders, up and up until the air
grew quite chill; and then as we turned a sharp corner the most unique
scene met our view. I told you before I can't describe scenery, Mamma,
but I must try this, because it was so wonderful, and reminded me of the
pictures in Paradise Lost illustrated by Dore, when the Devil looks down
on that weird world.
A grey-sand, flat place far below us, about fifty miles across,
surrounded by mountains turning blue in their shadows in the afternoon
light--it might have been a supremely vast Circus Maximus or giants'
race course, and there was the giant towering above the rest, with a
snow cap on his head, peeping from between the lower mountains. It
seemed it could not be possible we could descend to there, but we did,
the track getting more primitive as we went on, and once on the edge of
a precipice we met a waggon and team of eight mules driven by a Mexican
with a cracking whip, and getting past might have tried your nerves, but
no one notices such things in a country of this sort!
Every atom of food for Moonbeams has to be drawn over this ninety miles
of desert by waggons or mule carts, and every drop of water comes in six
miles from the camp.
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