Though rather shy and
distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual
alacrity; and mutually relieving each other, they clambered up a
narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As
they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals,
like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine,
or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged
path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to be
the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which
often take place in the mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing
through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small
amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the
brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you
only caught glimpses of the azure sky, and the bright evening
cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on
in silence; for though the former marvelled greatly what could be
the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet
there was something strange and incomprehensible about the
unknown, that inspired awe, and checked familiarity.
On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented
themselves.
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