A level line above marked the rim of the plateau. Sand began to
show in the little lava pits. On and upward toiled the cavalcade,
still very slowly advancing. At last Yaqui reached the rim. He
stood with his hand on Blanco Diablo; and both were silhouetted
against the sky. That was the outlook for a Yaqui. And his great
horse, dazzlingly white in the sunlight, with head wildly and
proudly erect, mane and tail flying in the wind, made a magnificent
picture. The others toiled on and upward, and at last Gale led
Blanco Sol over the rim. Then all looked down the red slope.
But shadows were gathering there and no moving line could be seen.
Yaqui mounted and wheeled Diablo away. The others followed.
Gale saw that the plateau was no more than a vast field of low,
ragged circles, levels, mounds, cones, and whirls of lava. The lava
was of a darker red than that down upon the slope, and it was harder
than flint. In places fine sand and cinders covered the uneven
floor. Strange varieties of cactus vied with the omnipresent choya.
Yaqui, however, found ground that his horse covered at a swift walk.
But there was only an hour, perhaps, of this comparatively easy
going. Then the Yaqui led them into a zone of craters. The top of
the earth seemed to have been blown out in holes from a few rods
in width to large craters, some shallow, others deep, and all red
as fire. Yaqui circled close to abysses which yawned sheer from
a level surface, and he appeared always to be turning upon his
course to avoid them.
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