As nearly as she could tell it ran
directly north-south at an altitude varying from five- to
fifteen-hundred feet. At its base, directly below them, a shallow gorge
crept slowly southward to end in a shadowed overhang at the foot of the
sandstone ridge. How the two lines of vastly divergent rock had come
together to form such a neat corner she could not guess. Perhaps
violent flooding had deposited the sand during a great turmoil of the
sea, then left it to slowly age and weather through the intervening
centuries. How many she dared not even think. The contrast between the
two was like day and night.
And to the southwest there occurred yet another bizarre conflict.
Directly in front of them, across the gorge, lay a vast and
gentle-hilled grassland, dotted with muddy pools and small clusters of
wide, African-looking trees. Large herds of grazing animals sauntered
across it at a distance which defied close description. But at the foot
of the sandstone was only cactus and desert prairie. The meeting of the
two, in a long zig-zagging line between rows of opposing hills, was
awkward at best.
And farther west, beyond the savanna larger hills appeared, covered with
trees and high bramble, leading away out of sight. The horizon to the
north was similar, but here the hills were sharper, velveted with pine,
and broken by stark projections of weather-worn granite, apparently the
oldest and most ‘natural' part of the Valley.
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