mountain, that the entrance to it opened into a curved inner world
of green, was narrow and strongly protected. The cove thus formed
presented a level floor of ten or twelve acres, and it was directly
down into this cove that Willock gazed. It looked so peaceful and
secure, and its openness to the sunshine was so alluring, that
Willock resolved to descend the steep wall. To do so at that point
was impractical, but the ridge was unequal and not far to the right,
sank to a low divide, while to the left, a deep gully thickly set
with cedars, elms, scrub-oaks and thorn trees invited him with its
steep but not difficult channel, to the ground.

"Here's a choice," observed Willock, as he turned toward the divide;
"guess I'll go by the front, and save the back stairs for an
emergency." The gully was his back stairs. He was beginning to
feel himself rich in architectural possibilities. When he reached
the plain he was outside of a line of hummocks that effectually hid
the cove from sight, more effectually because of a dense grove of
pecans that stood on either side of the grass-grown dunes. Instead
of crossing the barrier, he started due south for the outer prairie,
and when at last he stood midway between the wide jaws of the
mountain horseshoe, he turned and looked intently toward the cove.

It was invisible, and his highest hopes were realized. From this
extended mouth he could clearly see where the first spur shot out
into the sand, and beyond that, he could see how, at a distance,
the sheer wall of granite rose to the sky; but there was nothing to
suggest that behind that scarred arm another projection parallel to
it might be discovered. He walked toward the spur, always watching
for a possible glimpse of the cove. When he stood on the inner
side, his spirits rose higher. The long flat island that he had