It was Rod Norton's privilege to lead his merry party into what for
them was wonderland. Even Florrie, though so much other life had been
passed in San Juan, had never before visited the King's Palace.
Clattering through the street while most folk were asleep, they took
advantage of the cool of the dawn and rode swiftly. Elmer and Florrie
racing on ahead laid aside their accustomed weapons and were, for the
once, utterly flattering to each other. Each wishing to be admired,
admired the other, and was paid back in the coveted coin. Norton and
Virginia, at first a little inclined toward silence, soon grew as
noisily merry as the others, drawing deep enjoyment from the moment.
And at the portals of the King's Palace, reached after four hours in
the saddle, followed by thirty minutes on foot, they stood hushed with
wonder. High upon the southern slope of Mt. Temple they had come
abruptly into the unexpected. Here a rugged plateau had caught and
held through the ages the soil which had weathered down from the cliffs
above; here were trees to replace the weary gray brush, shade instead
of glare, birds as welcome substitutes for droning insects, water and
flowers to make the canons doubly cool and fragrant for him who had
ascended from the dry reaches of sand below the talus.
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