They were hopelessly lost, the redwoods were the home of the
grizzly and the panther, and they might come upon the soldiers at any
moment. But there was nothing to do but to ride on, and at least they
had horses and food.
They descended whenever descent was possible, for at the foot of the
mountain lay the open valley; but there were no trails; in all
likelihood they were where no man, red or white, had ever been before;
they had to force their way where the brush was thinnest, and as often
their flight was toward loftier heights.
As the day wore on the temperature fell, even in those forest depths
where the sun had not penetrated for a thousand years. The beauty of the
forest palled upon Roldan: those everlasting aisles with their grey
motionless columns, their green sinister light, the delicate fern wood
below, the dense mat of branch and leaf so high above. The redwoods
oppress and terrify when they have man completely at their mercy. They
look as if they could speak if they would, roar louder than the storms
that have never shaken them. But they know the value of silence, and the
silence of their inmost depths is awful.
After many hours the boys rode out upon a bare peak.
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