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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"The Bells of San Juan"

The protected ledge which afforded eternal
foundation was slightly above the plateau's level, to be reached by a
series of "steps" in the rock, steps which were holes worn deep,
perhaps five hundred years ago. The climb was steep, hazardous unless
one went with due precaution, but the four holiday-makers hurried to
begin it.
So close to the edge of the rock ledge did the walls of the ruin stand
that there was barely room to edge along it to come to the narrow
doorway. Holding hands, Norton in the lead, Elmer in the rear, they
made their breathless way. And then they were in the hushed, shaded
anteroom.
The dust of untroubled ages lay upon the surprisingly smooth floor.
Walls of cemented rock rose intact on two sides, broken here and there
on a third, while the cliff itself made the fourth at the rear. And
unusually spacious, wide, and high-ceiled was this room, which may have
had its use when time was younger as a council-chamber. At one end was
another door, small and dark and forbidding, leading to another room.
Beyond lay other quarters, a long line of them, which might have housed
scores in their time.
While Florrie, letting out little shrieks now and then interspersed
with gay cries of delight, led a half-timorous way and Elmer went with
her upon the tour of discovery, Virginia and Norton stood a moment at
the front entrance looking down upon the fertile plateau and across it
to the level miles running out to San Juan and beyond.


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