CHAPTER VII
THE NATIONAL PARK
Perched on the driver’s seat, with Irving beside her, Mrs. Bruce was as near the zenith of contentment as falls to the lot of mortal.
The driver himself, philosopher as he was, discovered in the first three miles that it would not be necessary for him to volunteer any information, as everything he knew would be extracted from him, down to the last dregs of supposition.
“Three thousand feet of ascent in a mile, Irving! Think of it!” exclaimed Mrs. Bruce, as they neared the Hoodoo Rocks.
“I’d rather think of an ascent of one thousand feet in three miles,” returned Irving. “It’s less strain on the brain.”
The driver gave him an appreciative glance across Mrs. Bruce’s smart traveling hat.
“Oh, is that it?” she rejoined. “Perhaps I did get it a little twisted.”
Here they came in full view of the desert of gaunt, pallid trees, amid the gigantic Hoodoo Rocks.