The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1922-06-15

Pine incense burned that night In honor
of the silent drama while the nauve, hello
trope and violet faded into the deeper blue
of starlight. Next day we learned that no
longer would the supply of adjectives last,
that "wondcrful," the all-sufficing pass
word of the tourist, was mockery; but
that one could after all obtain a great
deal of comfort from such terms as "holy
smoked" and jumping jack rabbit" And
they come from the inner spirit, not ar
duously, but spontaneously, to supply the
empty void left by ordinary words for, as
we rode through the pines and spruces of
the plateau, skirting its edge, we learned
that Bryce Canyon is not solitary beauty
spot, but rather superlative jewel tucked
into a cliff wall where the entire mass is
one great setting.
En- route to natural bridge IL miles
away we paused to watch the play of
light in No Mans Land. Just below us
on the opposite slope chrome roof covered
two huge abutments of shelly pink and
alabaster. In the portal between them
grew a solitary sentinel, guarding the en-
trance to doorway revealed to us by
narrow band of light. Beyond the postern
Indictments, the unduating hills and val
leys rolled away to the east in a great
mosaic of light and shade, green and
white, until again the dull heap of Navajo
Mountain reared into the sky line. Across
the enormous pattern the cloud shadows
sailed slowly, majestically, one following
the other in mute, solemn irregularity-
"silence more musical than any song"
"Now, we'll just lead the horses along
little farther and hobble them," spoke our
guide. cts only short distance on to
the bridge and walking is better than
riding will be-"
Down white slope we went, leaving
the horses behind, lodged through num-
Der of pines, and then again looked on
scene which compelled slow, tremulous
"holy smoke"
Yet, except the odor of the pines, there
was no incense in the air; on the distant
horizon, still marked by the peak of the
Navajo, were only few sparse clouds;
but at our feet-there lay the cause of the
ejaculation.
Pinks, saffrons reds, orange-browns,
chalk-tints, mingled in the curves of the
Arc de Triomphe. Its blazing top sur
mounted magnifcently two huge pilasters
set solidly in nook of the cliff wall,
leaving an opening IS feet wide and 100
feet high, through which we caught
glimpses of the valley whose slanting
sides lead to No Mans Land and the
great bridges of the San Juan country.
The luster of the walls became a shin
ing, scintillating luminosity, with nearer
approach and the rays seemed to dance
like lightning on the points of the struc-
ture. Only the green spindle tops of the
pines beyond reduced the intensity, while
the sun god showered his glory on the al
ready burning parapets.
"No Mans Land" the guide explained,
"is called that BECAUSE while it is good
place in summer, the snow piles. up there
in winter until it becomes impossible"
When the steaIthy, triangular shadows
of the pines and the spruces began their
approach toward the bridge castle, we
looked for the last time over the immensely
of No Mans Land, and then, leading the
horses, followed the guide down a west
ward sloping gully. The elevation de-
creased rapidly, and in half hour we
arrived at an opening filled with the SAT-
from rays of the afternoon sun.
We rode now across the scented expanses
of the sage and followed the edge of
dry wash. Three miles more, the guide
informed u.s. and the trip would be fin