It was a
place of yellow, ragged ruin. The passage narrowed as he went up;
it became a slant, hard for him to stick on; it was smooth as
marble. Finally he surmounted it, surprised to find the walls
still several hundred feet high, and a narrow gorge leading down
on the other side. This was a divide between two inclines, about
twenty yards wide. At one side stood an enormous rock. Venters
gave it a second glance, because it rested on a pedestal. It
attracted closer attention. It was like a colossal pear of stone
standing on its stem. Around the bottom were thousands of little
nicks just distinguishable to the eye. They were marks of stone
hatchets. The cliff-dwellers had chipped and chipped away at this
boulder fill it rested its tremendous bulk upon a mere pin-point
of its surface. Venters pondered. Why had the little stone-men
hacked away at that big boulder? It bore no semblance to a statue
or an idol or a godhead or a sphinx. Instinctively he put his
hands on it and pushed; then his shoulder and heaved. The stone
seemed to groan, to stir, to grate, and then to move. It tipped a
little downward and hung balancing for a long instant, slowly
returned, rocked slightly, groaned, and settled back to its
former position.
Venters divined its significance. It had been meant for defense.
The cliff-dwellers, driven by dreaded enemies to this last stand,
had cunningly cut the rock until it balanced perfectly, ready to be
dislodged by strong hands.
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