Ned made no answer, but sat fast where he had checked his pony, pointing to where hundreds, perhaps thousands, of heavy grey stones lay scattered widely about over the sandy slope.
“Well, I can see them; stones, looking as if a mountain had crumbled all away in an earthquake, or in some volcanic explosion which had shattered it all to pieces.”
“No, no,” said Ned huskily; “not there. More to the left. It is that tree I mean.”
“Tree? There’s no tree there.”
“Yes, that great one that was turned over in the earthquake, and all of the trunk and top buried in the stones.”
“I say, my lad,” said Griggs anxiously, “has the heat been too much for you?”
“Yes, it made my head ache.”
“That’s it, then. Made you fancy you can see a tree upside down.”
“’Tisn’t fancy,” said Ned huskily. “I can see plain enough, but it isn’t natural. It’s all alive, and the roots are twisting and twining about as if the tree was alive and in pain.”
“Here, don’t stare at it. Shut your eyes for a bit, my lad. I’ll take your mustang’s rein.”