"Shouldn't know whether to feel proud 'f myself or not, 'f I'd made this
country, Capm. Depends on what 'twas meant for. If 'twas meant to live in,
it's the poorest outfit I ever did see. If 'twas meant to scare folks,
it's jest up to the mark. 'Nuff to frighten a crow into fits. Capm, it
fairly seems more than airthly; puts me in mind 'f things in the Pilgrim's
Progress--only worse. Sh'd say it was like five thousin' Valleys 'f the
Shadow 'f Death tangled together. Tell ye, believe Christian 'd 'a' backed
out 'f he'd had to travel through here. Think Mr. Coronado 's all right in
his top hamper, Capm? Do, hey? Wal, then I'm all wrong; guess I'm 's
crazy's a bedbug. Wouldn't 'a'ketched me steerin' this course of my own
free will 'n' foreknowledge. Jest look at the land now. Don't it look like
the bottomless pit blowed up 'n' gone to smash? Tell ye, 'f the Old Boy
himself sh'd ride up alongside, shouldn't be a mite s'prised to see him.
Sh'd reckon he had a much bigger right to be s'prised to ketch me here."
After some further riding, shaking his sandy head, staring about him and
whistling, he broke out again.
"Tell ye, Capm, this beats my imagination. Used to think I c'd yarn it
pooty consid'able. But never can tell this. Never can do no manner 'f
jestice to it. Look a there now. There's a nateral bridge, or 'n unnateral
one. There's a hole blowed through a forty foot rock 's clean 's though
'twas done with Satan's own field-piece, sech 's Milton tells about. An'
there's a steeple higher 'n our big one in Fair Haven. An' there's a
church, 'n' a haystack. If the devil hain't done his biggest celebratin'
'n' carpenterin' 'n' farmin' round here, d'no 's I know where he has done
it. Beats _me_, Capm; cleans me out. Can't do no jestice to it. Can't talk
about it. Seems to me 's though I was a fool."
Yes, even Phineas Glover's small and sinewy soul (a psyche of the size,
muscular force, and agility of a flea) had been seized, oppressed, and in
a manner smashed by the hideous sublimity of this wilderness of sandstone,
basalt, and granite.
Two hours passed, during which, from the nature of the ground, the
travellers could neither see nor be seen by their pursuers. Then came a
breathless ascent up another of the monstrous sandstone terraces.
Thurstane ordered every man to dismount, so as to spare the beasts as much
as possible. He walked by the side of Clara, patting, coaxing, and
cheering her suffering horse, and occasionally giving a heave of his solid
shoulder against the trembling haunches.
"Let me walk," the girl presently said. "I can't bear to see the poor
beast so worried."
"It would be better, if you can do it," he replied, remembering that she
might soon have to call upon the animal for speed.
She dismounted, clasped her hands over his arm, and clambered thus. From
time to time, when some rocky step was to be surmounted, he lifted her
bodily up it.
"How can you be so strong?" she said, looking at him wonderingly and
gratefully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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