The mountains had begun to spread apart.There were long ranges and short.Here and there,a form that had seemed an integral part of some range,defined itself as distinct from all others,lying like an island of rock in a sea of unbroken desert.Willock was approaching the Wichita Mountains from their southwestern extremity.As far as he could see in one direction,the grotesque forms stretched in isolated chains or single groups;but in the other,the end was reached,and beyond lay the unbroken waste of the Panhandle.
Swaying on his great legs as with the weakness of an infant,he was now very near the end of the system.A wall of granite,sparsely dotted with green,rose above him to a height of about three hundred and fifty feet.The length of this range was perhaps six miles,its thickness a mile.Concealed among these ridges,he might be safe,but it was no longer possible for him to stand erect;to climb the difficult ledges would be impossible.