Half a mile beyond, the dragon’s-blood precipices become more
perpendicular and close in toward each other until the gorge seems
blocked, but a turn opens new vistas. Now, it is no more than
seventy-five feet from cliff to cliff and the stream stretches from wall
to wall. But there is one last glorious picture for those who must turn
back. A short distance farther up the gorge soars a slender, ethereal
cone of pink and white, a peak of such appealing symmetry and delicate
tints, so lofty and aspiring, that it evokes a cry of admiration. It is
the Mountain of Mystery.
[Illustration: _One of the Amphitheatres of Cedar Breaks_]