The circles of
black rocks above the tops of the highest trees, though indescribably
beautiful, were strangely repellent in their weird conformation. They
struck us as the walls of a prison from which the only way to liberty
lay across the path in the crater.
The trees--ebony, chatak, dakua, and sandalwood--grew here in greater
numbers than we had met them on the first day, while the lawyer-vines
and thorny creepers rivalled the devilish meshes that had held us back
as we climbed the slope to the Vermilion Pit. Like green serpents they
covered the treetops, and as we struck forward in the same order as we
had marched on the first day the solemnity of the place was more
apparent than ever. It appeared that Nature, for some reason of her own,
had made the place difficult of access, and that our invasion was
something that the trees and vines protested against.
But in spite of the strange melancholy of the place, the two girls were
in much better spirits than they had been on the previous day. The
successful passage over the ledge had brought about a reaction, and a
remark of Holman's caused Barbara Herndon to laugh with all the
spontaneity that was noticeable upon _The Waif_.
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