I almost thought I was in a dream.

But the canyon, now blood-red, was there in overwhelming reality, a profound, solemn, gloomy thing, but real.

The wind blew stronger, and then I was to a sad, sweet song, which lulled as the wind lulled.

I realized at once that the sound was caused by the wind blowing into the peculiar formations of the cliffs.

It changed, softened, shaded, mellowed, but it was always sad.