Adventure stories; California -- Fiction; Love stories; Mate selection -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
These things decided, they nibbled a cake of chocolate each and
divided the remaining “jerky” between them. They drank the last of
the water. Then they set off along the lip of the precipice in search
of a possible way to get down into the valley. After a mile or more
of winding in and out among the outcroppings, boulders, and tentacles
of chaparral that extended from the main thicket to the edge of the
declivity they were seriously wondering whether it was possible to
reach the floor of the valley at all. For the wall below them was,
figuratively speaking, as perpendicular as the side of a skyscraper.
They discovered several false breaks that promised to open upon routes
leading downward, but each time they were halted by a yawning precipice
as steep as any yet encountered.
A few oak trees grew close to the lip of the gorge, some of them on
the very edge and slanting over the abyss as if straining to gaze down
upon the mysteries below. Under one of these, as they walked around a
point of chaparral, they came face to face with a big brown bear. He
was an industrious bear and had not seen them nor smelled them, as the
slight breeze that was astir was blowing in their faces. His majesty
was sitting on his haunches, profile toward the surprised adventurers,
with both paws to his mouth and with huge jaws working. As they came
to a stop he lowered his body to all fours as lightly as a squirrel,
for all his several hundred pounds of weight, picked up an acorn with
one paw, and broke the shell of it with the butt of the other paw. He
carried the kernel to his mouth and chonked with satisfaction. He sat
erect again, saw the intruders, lowered both paws droopingly in abject
surprise, and, with a startled _Wuff_, wheeled and went lumbering off
at astonishing speed.
At the end of about fifteen shuffling leaps he swung abruptly toward
the precipice and disappeared between an overhanging oak and an
upstanding rock.
But for him, then, Charmian and Dr. Shonto would have walked directly
past what seemed to be an animal-made trail that zigzagged down into
the Valley of Arcana, the gateway of which was the monumentlike stone
and the twisted black oak. They halted in the pass and heard the
rattling of stones below and the scraping footsteps of the fleeing
bear. A trail, narrow but plainly outlined, descended along the side
of a portion of the precipice less steep than heretofore. The brush
that grew over it here and there had been scraped of its bark in
many places, and the smooth wood showing through had been polished
by contact with the hair of various animals that had ascended and
descended the trail for unreckoned years. The stones protruding from
the earth were claw-scratched and eroded.
“I christen thee Bear Pass,” saluted Charmian. “Can we go where that
bear can, Doctor?”
“He may be bound for a den in the side of the precipice,” suggested
Shonto. “The trail may lead only to that. But it’s worth a trial,
provided--”
“Well?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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