It took him ten minutes to reach Thor, and he was completely winded.

Then, all at once, his terror vanished.
For Thor stood on a white, narrow path that was as solid as a floor.
The path was perhaps eighteen inches wide.

It was unusual--and mysterious-looking, and strangely out of place where it was.

It looked as though an army of workmen had come along with hammers and had broken up tons of sandstone and slate, and then filled in between the boulders with rubble, making a smooth and narrow road that in places was ground to the fineness of powder and the hardness of cement.

But instead of hammers, the hoofs of a hundred or perhaps a thousand generations of mountain sheep had made the trail.