CHAPTER XIII.
IN GRANITE BASIN.
On the other side of Granite Mountain from where Phil and Patches
watched the wild horses that day, there is a rocky hollow, set high in
the hills, but surrounded on every side by still higher peaks and
ridges. Lying close under the sheer, towering cliffs of the mountain,
those fortress-like walls so gray and grim and old seem to overshadow
the place with a somber quiet, as though the memories of the many ages
that had wrought their countless years into those mighty battlements
gave to the very atmosphere a feeling of solemn and sacred seclusion. It
was as though nature had thrown about this spot a strong protecting
guard, that here, in her very heart, she might keep unprofaned the
sweetness and strength and beauty of her primitive and everlasting
treasures.
In its wild and rugged setting, Granite Basin has, for the few who have
the hardihood to find them, many beautiful glades and shady nooks, where
the grass and wild flowers weave their lovely patterns for the earth
floor, and tall pines spread their soft carpets of brown, while giant
oaks and sycamores lift their cathedral arches to support the ceilings
of green, and dark rock fountains set in banks of moss and fern hold
water clear and cold.
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