All about extended a wild, desolate scene of rock and
sand, bounded on every horizon by barren ridges. The only vegetation
was sage brush, while the trail, scarcely visible to the eye, would
circle here and there among grotesque formations, and occasionally
seemed to disappear altogether. Nowhere was there slightest sign of
life--no bird, no beast, no snake even, crossed their path. All was
dead, silent, stricken with desolation. The spires and chimneys of
rock, ugly and distorted in form, assumed strange shapes in the grey
dusk. It was all grey wherever the eyes turned; grey of all shades,
grey sand, grey rocks, grey over-arching sky, relieved only by the soft
purple of the sage--a picture of utter loneliness, of intense
desolation, which was a horror. The eye found nothing to rest upon--no
landmark, no distant tree, no gleam of water, no flash of colour--only
that dull monotony of drab, motionless, and with no apparent end.
Stella stared about at it, and closed her eyes, unable to bear the
sight; her head drooped wearily, every nerve giving away before the
depressing scene outspread in every direction.
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