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"Nobs," I said, "how the devil are we going to cross those cliffs?"
I do not say that he understood me, even though I realize that
an Airedale is a mighty intelligent dog; but I do swear that he
seemed to understand me, for he wheeled about, barking joyously
and trotted off toward the west; and when I didn't follow him,
he ran back to me barking furiously, and at last taking hold of
the calf of my leg in an effort to pull me along in the
direction he wished me to go. Now, as my legs were naked and
Nobs' jaws are much more powerful than he realizes, I gave in
and followed him, for I knew that I might as well go west as
east, as far as any knowledge I had of the correct direction went.
We followed the base of the cliffs for a considerable distance.
The ground was rolling and tree-dotted and covered with grazing
animals, alone, in pairs and in herds--a motley aggregation of
the modern and extinct herbivore of the world. A huge woolly
mastodon stood swaying to and fro in the shade of a giant
fern--a mighty bull with enormous upcurving tusks. Near him
grazed an aurochs bull with a cow and a calf, close beside a
lone rhinoceros asleep in a dust-hole. Deer, antelope, bison,
horses, sheep, and goats were all in sight at the same time,
and at a little distance a great megatherium reared up on its
huge tail and massive hind feet to tear the leaves from a
tall tree. The forgotten past rubbed flanks with the present--
while Tom Billings, modern of the moderns, passed in the garb of
pre-Glacial man, and before him trotted a creature of a breed
scarce sixty years old. Nobs was a parvenu; but it failed to
worry him.
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