"It's just like fairy-land!" cried the ecstatic Florrie. "Roddy
Norton, I think you're real mean not to have brought me here ages ago!"
"Ages ago, my dear miss," laughed Norton, "you were too little to
appreciate it. You should thank me for bringing you now."
Down through the middle of the plateau from its hidden source ran the
purling stream which was destined to yield to sun and thirsty earth
long before it twisted down the lower slopes of the hills. Along its
edges the grass was thick and rich, shot through everywhere with little
blue blossoms and the golden gleam of the starflowers. Further promise
of yellow beauty was given by the stalks of the evening-primrose
scattered on every hand, the flowers furled now, sleeping. In the
groves were pines, small cedars, and a sprinkling of sturdy dwarf oaks.
And from their shelter came the welcome sound of a bird's twitter.
"It's always about as you see it," Norton explained. "Too hard to get
to, too small when one makes the climb to afford enough pasturage for
sheep. And now the Palace itself."
Straight ahead the cliffs overhung the farther rim of the plateau. And
there, under the out-jutting roof of rock, an ancient people had
fashioned themselves a home which stood now as when their hands
laboriously set it there.
Pages:
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201