so, and soon made the discovery that the sweet, pungent, penetrating fragrance of sage and cedar had this strange effect upon him.  This was an exceedingly dry and odorous forest, where every open space between the clumps of cedars was choked with luxuriant sage.  The pinyons were higher up on the mesa, and the pines still higher.  Shefford appeared to lose himself.  There were no trails; the black mesa on the right and the wall of stone on the left could not be seen; but he pushed on with what was either singular confidence or rash impulse.  And he did not know whether that slope was long or short.  Once at the summit he saw with surprise that it broke abruptly and the descent was very steep and short on that side.  Through the trees he once more saw the black mesa, rising to the dignity of a mountain; and he had glimpses of another flat, narrow valley, this time with a red wall running parallel with the mesa.  He could not help but hurry down to get an unobstructed view.  His eagerness was rewarded by a splendid scene, yet to his regret he could not force himself to believe it had any relation to the pictured scenes in his mind.  The valley was half a mile wide, perhaps several miles long, and it extended in a curve between the cedar-sloped mesa and a looming wall of red stone.  There was not a bird or a beast in sight.  He found a well-defined trail, but it had not been recently used.  He passed a low structure made of peeled logs and mud, with a dark opening like a door.  It did not take him many minutes to learn that the valley was longer than he had calculated.  He walked swiftly and steadily, in spite of the fact that the pack had become burdensome.  What lay beyond the jutting corner of the mesa had increasing fascination for him and acted as a spur.  At last he turned the corner, only to be disappointed at sight of another cedar slope.  He had a glimpse of a single black shaft of rock rising far in the distance, and it disappeared as his striding forward made the crest of the slope rise toward the sky.

Again his view became restricted, and he lost the sense of a slow and gradual uplift of rock and an increase in the scale of proportion.  Half-way up this ascent he was compelled to rest; and again the sun was slanting low when he entered the cedar forest.  Soon he was descending, and he suddenly came into the open to face a scene that made his heart beat thick and fast.

He saw lofty crags and cathedral spires, and a wonderful canyon winding between huge beetling red walk.  He heard the murmur of flowing water.  The trail led down to the canyon floor, which appeared to be level and green and cut by deep washes in red earth.  Could this canyon be the mouth of Deception Pass?  It bore no resemblance to any place Shefford had heard described, yet somehow he felt rather than saw that it was the portal to the wild fastness he had traveled so far to enter.