tacles, what impassable
gorges, might lie between this bridge and the river! The Indian's
inscrutable serenity and Fay's trust, her radiance, the exquisite glow
upon her face, sustained Shefford and gave him patience to endure and
conceal his dread.

At length the flight was resumed, with Nas Ta Bega leading on foot, and
Shefford walking in the rear. A quarter of a mile below camp the Indian
led down a declivity into the bottom of the narrow gorge, where the
stream ran. He did not gaze backward for a last glance at Nonnezoshe;
nor did Jane or Lassiter. Fay, however, checked Nack-yal at the rim of
the descent and turned to look behind. Shefford contrasted her tremulous
smile, her half-happy good-by to this place, with the white stillness
of her face when she had bade farewell to Surprise Valley. Then she rode
Nack-yal down into the gorge.

Shefford knew that this would be his last look at the rainbow bridge. As
he gazed the tip of the great arch lost its cold, dark stone color and
began to shine. The sun had just arisen high enough over some low break
in the wall to reach the bridge. Shefford watched. Slowly, in wondrous
transformation, the gold and blue and rose and pink and purple blended
their hues, softly, mistily, cloudily, until once again the arch was a
rainbow.

Ages before life had evolved upon the earth it had spread its grand arch
from wall to wall, black and mystic at night, transparent and rosy in
the sunrise, at sunset a flaming curve limned against the heavens. When
the race of man had passed it would, perhaps, stand there still. It was
not for many eyes to see. Only by toil, sweat, endurance, blood, could
any man ever look at Nonnezoshe. So it would always be alone, grand,
silent, beautiful, unintelligible.

Shefford bade Nonnezoshe a mute, reverent farewell. Then plunging down
the weathered slope of the gorge to the stream below, he hurried forward
to join the others. They had progressed much farther than he imagined
they would have, and this was owing to the fact that the floor of the
gorge afforded easy travel. It was gravel on rock bottom, tortuous, but
open, with infrequent and shallow downward steps. The stream did not now
rush and boil along and tumble over rock-encumbered ledges. In corners
the water collected in round, green, eddying pools. There were patches
of grass and willows and mounds of moss. Shefford's surprise equaled his
relief, for he believed that the violent descent of Nonnezoshe