He was down on the first bench of the great canyon.

And there was the deer trail, a well-worn path keeping to the edge of the slope.

Slone came to a deep cut in the earth, and the trail headed it, where it began at the last descent of the slope.

It was the source of a canyon.

He could look down to see the bare, worn rock, and a hundred yards from where he stood the earth was washed from its rims and it began to show depth and something of that ragged outline which told of violence of flood.