Mrs. Watson felt that
she had made a hit, and grew complacent again.
"See what your brother picked for me," cried Poppy, riding alongside, and
exhibiting a great sheaf of columbine tied to the pommel of her saddle.
"And how do you like North Cheyenne? Isn't it an exquisite place?"
"Perfectly lovely; I feel as if I must come here every day."
"Yes, I know; but there are so many other places out here about which you
have that feeling."
"Now we will show you the other Cheyenne Canyon,--the twin of this," said
Dr. Hope; "but you must prepare your mind to find it entirely different."
After rather a rough mile or two through woods, they came to a wooden
shed, or shanty, at the mouth of a gorge, and here Dr. Hope drew up his
horses, and helped them all out.
"Is it much of a walk?" asked Mrs. Watson.
"It is rather long and rather steep," said Mrs. Hope; "but it is lovely if
you only go a little way in, and you and I will sit down the moment you
feel tired, and let the others go forward."
South Cheyenne Canyon was indeed "entirely different." Instead of a
green-floored, vine-hung ravine, it is a wild mountain gorge, walled with
precipitous cliffs of great height; and its river--every canyon has a
river--comes from a source at the top of the gorge in a series of mad
leaps, forming seven waterfalls, which plunge into circular basins of
rock, worn smooth by the action of the stream.
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