He opened his eyes to see the crags and towers and peaks and domes, and the lofty walls of that vast, broken chaos of canyons across the river.

They were now emerging from the misty gray of dawn, growing pink and lilac and purple under the rising sun.
He arose and set about his few tasks, which, being soon finished, allowed him an early start.
Wildfire had grazed along no more than a mile in the lead.

Slone looked eagerly up the narrowing canyon, but he was not rewarded by a sight of the stallion.

As he progressed up a gradually ascending trail he became aware of the fact that the notch he had long looked up to was where the great red walls closed in and almost met.

And the trail zigzagged up this narrow vent, so steep that only a few steps could be taken without rest.