It was here that the actual position of the plateau, so indefinite of approach, began to be realized.  It now appeared an independent elevation, surrounded on three sides by gorges and watercourses, so narrow as to be overlooked from the principal mountain range, with which it was connected by a long canyon that led to the ridge.  At the outlet of this canyon—­in bygone ages a mighty river—­it had the appearance of having been slowly raised by the diluvium of that river, and the debris washed down from above—­a suggestion repeated in miniature by the artificial plateaus of excavated soil raised before the mouths of mining tunnels in the lower flanks of the mountain.  It was the realization of a fact—­often forgotten by the dwellers in Eagle’s Court—­that the valley below them, which was their connecting link with the surrounding world, was only reached by ascending the mountain, and the nearest road was over the higher mountain ridge.  Never before had this impressed itself so strongly upon the young girl as when she turned that morning to look upon the plateau below her.  It seemed to illustrate the conviction that had been slowly shaping itself out of her reflections on the conversation of that morning.  It was possible that the perfect understanding of a higher life was only reached from a height still greater, and that to those half-way up the mountain the summit was never as truthfully revealed as to the humbler dwellers in the valley.

I do not know that these profound truths prevented her from gathering some quaint ferns and berries, or from keeping her calm gray eyes open to certain practical changes that were taking place around her.  She had noticed a singular thickening in the atmosphere that seemed to prevent the passage of the sun’s rays, yet without diminishing the transparent quality of the air.  The distant snow-peaks were as plainly seen, though they appeared as if in moonlight.  This seemed due to no cloud or mist, but rather to a fading of the sun itself.  The occasional flurry of wings overhead, the whirring of larger birds in the cover, and a frequent rustling in the undergrowth, as of the passage of some stealthy animal, began equally to attract her attention.  It was so different from the habitual silence of these sedate solitudes.  Kate had no vague fear of wild beasts; she had been long enough a mountaineer to understand the general immunity enjoyed by the unmolesting wayfarer, and kept her way undismayed.  She was descending an abrupt trail when she was stopped by a sudden crash in the bushes.  It seemed to come from the opposite incline, directly in a line with her, and apparently on the very trail that she was pursuing.  The crash was then repeated again and again lower down, as of a descending body.  Expecting the apparition of some fallen tree, or detached boulder bursting through the thicket, in its way to the bottom of the gulch, she waited.  The foliage was suddenly brushed aside, and a large grizzly bear half rolled, half waddled, into the trail on the opposite side of the hill.  A few moments more would have brought them face to face at the foot of the gulch; when she stopped there were not fifty yards between them.