Meanwhile, they drew steadily over the plain; the mountains before them
gradually lost their aspect of mere silhouette; depths were discernible;
the blue dissolved to green, to towering slopes dense with foliage.
Directly before them a dark shadow steadily grew darker, until it was
resolved into a cleft through the range. They drew nearer and nearer to
the pierced barrier, the road mounted perceptibly, the trees thickened by
the wayside. A covey of dun partridge fluttered out of the underbrush.
The sun was high in a burning grey vault, and flooded the plain with
colorless, bright light. The stage paused before entering the opening in
the rocky wall; the stranger in the rear seat turned for a comprehensive,
last survey. Simmering in a calorific envelope the distant roofs and
stacks of Stenton were visible, isolated in the white heat of the pitiless
day. Above the city hung a smudge, a thumbprint of oily black smoke,
carrying the suggestion of an intolerable concentration, a focal point of
the fiery discomfort. In the foreground a buzzard wheeled, inevitable,
depressing.
With a sharp flourish of his whip Gordon urged the stage into the cold
humidity of the gorge. Stenton and the plain were lost as it passed
between close, dripping rocks, rank verdure, masses of gigantic,
paleolithic fern.