Men are all
very much alike," said the Road-Runner.
On the smooth sandstone cliffs the children could make out strange,
weathered picture-writings, and twisty inscriptions in much abbreviated
Spanish which they could not read.
The white sand at the foot of the Rock was strewn with flakes of
charcoal from the fires of ancient camps. A little to the south of the
cliff, that towered two hundred feet and more above them, shallow
footholds were cut into the sandstone.
"There were pueblos at the top in the old days," said the Road-Runner,
"facing across a deep divide, but nobody goes there now except owls that
have their nests in the ruins, and the last of the Condors, who since
old time have made their home in the pinnacles of the Rock. He'll have
seen us coming." The children looked up as a sailing shadow began to
circle about them on the evening-colored sands. "You can see by the
frayed edges of his wing feathers that he has a long time for
remembering," said the Road-Runner.
The great bird came slowly to earth, close by the lone pine that
tasseled out against the south side of El Morro and the Road-Runner
ducked several times politely.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270