ey
granite on the edge of precipices echoing the trickle of waters far below.
We rode now in single file, and so continued until Evvisa was reached, and
the upper hills began to open their folds. From Evvisa a rough track, yet
scored with winter ruts, led us around the southern side of one of these
mountain basins, and so to the skirts of the forest of Aitone, into the
glooms of which we plunged, my guide promising to bring me out long before
nightfall upon the ridge of the pass, where he would either encamp with
me, or (if I preferred it) would leave me to encamp alone and find his way
back to Evvisa.

So, with the sun at our backs and now almost half-way below its meridian,
we threaded our way up between the enormous pine-trunks, in a gloom full
of pillars which set me in mind of Cordova Cathedral. From their dark
roof hung myriads of cocoons white as satin and shone in every glint of
sunlight. And, whether over the carpet of pine-needles or the deeper
carpet of husks where the pines gave place to beech groves, our going was
always easy and even luxurious. I began to think that the difficulties of
my journey were over; and as we gained the _bocca_ at the top of the pass
and, emerging from the last outskirt of pines, looked down on the weald
beyond, I felt sure of it.

The plain lay at my feet like a huge saucer filled with shadow and
rimmed with snowy mountains on which the sunlight yet lingered.
A good road plunged down into the gloom of Valdoniello--a forest at first
glance very like that through which we had been riding, but smaller in
size. Its dark green tops climbed almost to our feet, and over them Giuse
pointed to the town of Niolo midway across the plain, traced with his
finger the course of the Golo, and pointed to the right of it where a pass
would lead me through the hill-chain to Corte.

I hesitated no longer: but thanked him, paid him his price and a trifle
over, and, leaving him on the ridge, struck boldly downhill on foot
towards the forest.

As with Aitone so with Valdoniello. The road shunned its depths and,
leading me down through the magnificent fringe of it, brought me out upon
an open slope, if that can be called open which is densely covered to the
height of a man's knees at times, and again to the height of his breast,
with my old friend the _macchia_.

It was now twilight and I felt myself weary. Choosing an aromatic bed by
the roadside where no prickly cactus thrust its way throug