eluded him, and he mounted again and
rode off across the desert--a strange figure. His tribe lives in the
canon some fifty miles west, and was at present encamped, for the
purpose of hunting, in the pine woods not far from the point we were
aiming at.

CHAPTER XVIII.

ON THE BRINK OF THE GRAND CANON.--THE UNIQUE MARVEL OF NATURE.

The way seemed long. With the heat and dust and slow progress, it was
exceedingly wearisome. Our modern nerves are not attuned to the slow
crawling of a prairie-wagon. There had been growing for some time in the
coach a feeling that the journey did not pay; that, in fact, no mere
scenery could compensate for the fatigue of the trip. The imagination
did not rise to it. "It will have to be a very big canon," said the
duchess.

Late in the afternoon we entered an open pine forest, passed through a
meadow where the Indians had set their camp by a shallow pond, and drove
along a ridge, in the cool shades, for three or four miles. Suddenly, on
the edge of a descent, we who were on the box saw through the tree-tops
a vision that stopped the pulse for a second, and filled us with
excitement. It was only a glimpse, far off and apparently lifted up--red
towers, purple cliffs, wide-spread apart, hints of color and splendor;
on the right distance, mansions, gold and white and carmine (so the
light made them), architectural habitations in the sky it must be, and
suggestions of others far off in the middle distance--a substantial
aerial city, or the ruins of one, such as the prophet saw in a vision.
It was only a glimpse. Our hearts were in our mouths. We had a vague
impression of something wonderful, fearful--some incomparable splendor
that was not earthly. Were we drawing near the "City?" and should we
have yet a more perfect view thereof? Was it Jerusalem or some Hindoo
temples there in the sky? "It was builded of pearls and precious stones,
also the streets were paved with gold; so that by reason of the natural
glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian
with desire fell sick." It was a momentary vision of a vast amphitheatre
of splendor, mostly hidden by the trees and the edge of the plateau.

We descended into a hollow. There was the well, a log-cabin, a tent or
two under the pine-trees. We dismounted with impatient haste. The sun
was low in the horizon, and had long withdrawn from this grassy dell.
Tired as we were, we could not wait. It was only to ascend t