But at night, when the dew fell, it was piercingly cold and damp, even under their skin wraps and tent. Only once had they been able to find wood enough to raise a fire since leaving the fountain. Then the effect on the bulging and smooth cliffs had been like some of the Inferno conceptions of Gustave Doré.
“Two more days, lads,” said Ned to his dutiful and unquestioning followers. “If we see no way out of this lane by that time, I shall turn back.”
They were, however, lured on by the windings and the perceptible drawing-in of the gorge. At the rate it was narrowing it must terminate either in a cul-de-sac or an opening soon.
At last their hopes were realised, and they had palpable evidence that they must have reached the other slope of the range.
The ridges were getting lower, or rather they were rising to their level.
Daylight became stronger, while the chasm became once more a valley, and fresher air poured in upon them.
About midday they were hemmed in by only about fifty feet high of walls that dipped until they became level with the ground.
In front of them spread an almost flat ledge, and on it what looked to be the ruins of a citadel.