SON OF THE WIND
you had let her keep that gait she would have been past handling," he said as he rode up.
"Oh, I don't think so."
"I do," said the horse-breaker with the air of concluding an argument.
She seemed quite unimpressed. "Anyway, we got up the hill quickly. See over there, that's where we're going."
Their way, which had carried them upward over long undulations of land, had finally led them out on the backbone of a watershed. He looked around the circle of the landscape, over hills and tops of trees. His glance followed where her finger pointed
down the road, indefinitely descending in front of them, bending a little toward the left through a blind and lumpish-looking country. It had an appearance of having been sandpapered off with no edges left, nor characteristic excrescences in sight, nothing to catch the eye. He looked to the right. There lay the thing worth seeing, the line of eminences, the outriders of the cañon, visible now from heel to head. They were so near that he could count the trees on their sides and note the varying yellows of the earth. They made a wall, their feet in cairns of stone, their shoulders interlocked, only their crests—turret-like, steeple—like, cap-like—appearing separate on the sky. Each succeeding group seemed
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