Neither driver nor horses appeared to mind obstacles.
Carley was splashed and jolted not inconsiderably.

They passed through groves of oak trees, from which the creek manifestly derived its name; and under gleaming walls, cold, wet, gloomy, and silent; and between lines of solemn wide-spreading pines.

Carley saw deep, still green pools eddying under huge massed jumble of cliffs, and stretches of white water, and then, high above the treetops, a wild line of canyon rim, cold against the sky.

She felt shut in from the world, lost in an unscalable rut of the earth.

Again the sunlight had failed, and the gray gloom of the canyon oppressed her.