oiled
on and upward, and at last Gale led Blanco Sol over the rim. Then all
looked down the red slope.

But shadows were gathering there and no moving line could be seen.

Yaqui mounted and wheeled Diablo away. The others followed. Gale saw
that the plateau was no more than a vast field of low, ragged circles,
levels, mounds, cones, and whirls of lava. The lava was of a darker
red than that down upon the slope, and it was harder than flint. In
places fine sand and cinders covered the uneven floor. Strange
varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent choya. Yaqui, however,
found ground that his horse covered at a swift walk.

But there was only an hour, perhaps, of this comparatively easy going.
Then the Yaqui led them into a zone of craters. The top of the earth
seemed to have been blown out in holes from a few rods in width to
large craters, some shallow, others deep, and all red as fire. Yaqui
circled close to abysses which yawned sheer from a level surface, and
he appeared always to be turning upon his course to avoid them.

The plateau had now a considerable dip to the west. Gale marked the
slow heave and ripple of the ocean of lava to the south, where high,
rounded peaks marked the center of this volcanic region. The uneven
nature of the slope westward prevented any extended view, until
suddenly the fugitives emerged from a rugged break to come upon a
sublime and awe-inspiring spectacle.

They were upon a high point of the western slope of the plateau. It was
a slope, but so many leagues long in its descent that only from a
height could any slant have been perceptible. Yaqui and his white
horse stood upon the brink of a crater miles in circumference, a
thousand feet deep, with its red walls patched in frost-colored spots
by the silvery choya. The giant tracery of lava streams waved down the
slope to disappear in undulating sand dunes. And these bordered a
seemingly endless arm of blue sea. This was the Gulf of California.
Beyond the Gulf rose dim, bold mountains, and above them hung the
setting sun, dusky red, flooding all that barren empire with a sinister
light.

It was strange to Gale then, and perhaps to the others, to see their
guide lead Diablo into a smooth and well-worn trail along the rim of
the awful crater. Gale looked down into that red chasm. It resembled
an inferno. The dark cliffs upon the opposite side were veiled in blue
haze that seemed like smoke. Here Yaqui was at home. H