h
aloe hedges grey as lines of broken slate; dark, noble gorges sprinkled
with mother-o'-pearl flakes of white wild roses, that drifted down the red
rock into water green as onyx. There were blossomy bits of Holland and
long tracts of Switzerland. Glacier-mills in narrow gorges were like empty
niches for colossal statues of saints; pink and white orchards foamed at
the feet of ancient look-out towers; black rocks, like huge watch-dogs,
seemed to crouch on cushions of wild flowers; and weeping willows fringed
the river with silver before it dashed away to do battle among the
mountains; acacias showered perfume, and orange groves pushed so near to
the train that a hand reached out could have plucked their golden globes.

There were caves and underground rivers, haunted by enchanted Moors; and
at last, a brief glimpse of Ronda hanging high against the sky, vanishing
like the fabled Garden of Iram, and not to be seen again until the train
mounted the cliff by many loops.

Just as we arrived at the end of the journey a thought in my brain seemed
to snap like the trigger of a carbine. In my haste to get off by the first
morning train I had forgotten to try and find more petrol at Algeciras,
although I had not enough left to get the car to Granada.

There was just time to telegraph back to the Reina Cristina and beg some
of the young Californian, who had fallen so deeply in love with the place
that he intended to stay a week. We had become friendly and he would
certainly grant the favour, therefore we might count on travelling that
night by acetylene and moonlight. Meanwhile, there was a long day to wait,
but I tramped off my restlessness as best I could in exploring every foot
of Ronda.

After that one look upward from the train, when Ronda hung before our eyes
over a thousand foot gorge, we had at last sneaked in, so to speak, by a
back door. If it had not been for that first glimpse, and if we had not
read "Miranda of the Balcony" we should not have guessed, in walking from
the station to the Alameda, that Ronda differed from other Moorish towns.
But far away was a barrier of iron railing, and a curious effect as if
beyond it everything ended except the sky. We walked on, reached that
railing, and leaned over.

No picture, no book had been able to give us a real idea of Ronda. It was
stupendous--wonderful. We stared down at the world beneath as if we hung in
a balloon, for the rock fell away from our feet, a sheer preci