THE INDIAN PASS. 33 



broken rocks, that were piled in huge chaos up and 

 up, as far as the eye could reach. My rifle became 

 such a burden, that I was compelled to leave it 

 against a tree, with a mark near it to determine its 

 locality. I had expected, from paintings I had seen 

 of this Pass, that I was to walk almost on a level into 

 a huge gap between two mountains, and look up on 

 the precipices that toppled heaven-high above me. 

 But here was a world of rocks, overgrown with trees 

 and moss, over and under and between which we 

 were compelled to crawl and dive and work our way 

 with so much exertion and care that the strongest 

 soon began to be exhausted. Caverns opened on 

 every side, and a more hideous, toilsome, break-neck- 

 tramp I never took. There was a stream deep down 

 somewhere, but no foot could follow it, for it was a 

 succession of cascades, with perpendicular walls each 

 side, hemming it in. It was more like climbing a 

 broken and shattered mountain than entering a gorge. 

 At length, however, we came where the fallen rocks 

 had made an open space amid the forest, and spread 

 a fearful ruin in its place. Near by was a huge rock, 

 that, in some former age, had been loosened from its 

 high bed, and hurled, with the strength of a falling 

 world, below. It was a precipice of itself, from which 

 to fall would have been certain death. This was "the 

 Church" our guide had spoken of, and it did lift itself 

 there like a huge altar, right in front of the main pre- 

 cipice, that rose in a naked wall a thoiisayid feet perpen- 

 dicular. The top of this '^ churcTi' could be reached 

 on one side, and thither we clambered and lay down to 



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