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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"

The line of
hills, silver-washed and black-caverned, was like a rampart thrown
across the entrance to the land of mystery, and they like the pygmy men
of fairyland come to gain an entry. It was David who thought of this.
It reminded him of Jack and the Beanstalk, where Jack, reaching the top
of the vine, found himself in a strange country. Susan did not
remember much about Jack. She was engrossed in recognizing the ravine,
scanning the darkling hollows for the dwarf tree.
It was a steep, winding cut, the tree, halfway up its length, spreading
skeleton arms against a sky clear as a blue diamond. They turned into
it and began a scrambling ascent, the horses' hoofs slipping into the
gutter that the buffaloes had trodden out. It was black dark in the
depths with the moonlight slanting white on the walls.
"We're going now to find the giants," David called over his shoulder.
"Doesn't this seem as if it ought to lead us up right in front of
Blunderbore's Castle?"
"The buffalo runs are like trenches," she answered. "If you don't look
out your horse may fall."
They tied their horses to the tree and climbed on foot to the levels
above.


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