On the left side, immediately above us,
was a precipice some thousand feet in height; on the right a
series of massive boulders, of quartzite and granite, misshapen
and lowering.
There were three, I remember, placed side by side like three
giant brothers; then two or three smaller ones in a row, and
beyond these many others ranged in a mass unevenly, sometimes so
close together that they appeared to be jostling one another out
of the way.
For several days we had been in the region of perpetual snow; and
soon we gathered about the fire which the arriero had kindled for
our camp. Its warmth was grateful, despite our native woolen
garments and heavy ponchos.
The wind whistled ominously; a weird, senseless sound that smote
the ear with madness. The white of the snow and the dull gray of
the rocks were totally unrelieved by any touch of green or play
of water; a spot lonely as the human soul and terrifying as
death.
Harry had gone to examine the hoofs of his mule, which had limped
slightly during the afternoon; Le Mire and I sat side by side
near the fire, gazing at the play of the flames. For some minutes
we had been silent.
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