The horses began to trot again. The wheels rattled. The road wound
around abrupt corners, and soon the green and red wall of the opposite side
of the canyon loomed close. Low roar of running water rose to Carley's
ears. When at length she looked out instead of down she could see nothing
but a mass of green foliage crossed by tree trunks and branches of brown
and gray. Then the vehicle bowled under dark cool shade, into a tunnel with
mossy wet cliff on one side, and close-standing trees on the other.
"Reckon we're all right now, onless we meet somebody comin' up," declared
the driver.
Carley relaxed. She drew a deep breath of relief. She had her first faint
intimation that perhaps her extensive experience of motor cars, express
trains, transatlantic liners, and even a little of airplanes, did not range
over the whole of adventurous life. She was likely to meet something,
entirely new and striking out here in the West.
The murmur of falling water sounded closer. Presently Carley saw that the
road turned at the notch in the canyon, and crossed a clear swift stream.
Here were huge mossy boulders, and red walls covered by lichens, and the
air appeared dim and moist, and full of mellow, hollow roar.
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