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THE CLIFF THAT WAS SCALED
one of the cone-*like cliffs and successfully descending on the further side, thus winning a valuable prize offered by the authorities. As we pass beneath the vertical walls of the cliff that was scaled, we grow dizzy in recalling the temerity of the man, for there is apparently no resting-place, no foothold,—and the rock is surely more than seven hundred feet in height. Rounding another bend we behold a massive bridge spanning the rushing river and transferring the roadway from one bank to another. The stream, like a living thing, struggles with the hindering boulders, filling the cavernous depths with a harsh murmur that is echoed from wall to wall until lost in the freedom of the upper air. At every turn we look for an end of this seemingly interminable rent, but every step in advance reveals a deepening of the river-bed, a narrowing of the Chabet Cañon, while the mountain masses on either side rise higher and higher until we feel that we have gone down to the very bottom of the
