It was worse than a mountain country, because in the mountains there is a certain semblance of some system in the canyons and high ridges and peaks.

Here every thing--peaks, gorges, tiny valleys and all--seemed to be just dumped down together.

Peaks rose from the middle of canyons; canyons were half the time blind pockets that ended abruptly against a cliff.
"Oh!" she cried aloud, jumpin up and gesticulating wildly.

"Baby! Little Claude! Here! Look up this way!" She saw him, down below, on the opposite side from where she had left her horse.
The Kid was riding slowly up a gorge.

Silver was picking his way carefully over the rocks--they looked tiny, down there! And they were not going toward home, by any means.