Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud, and peeping over its edge,
Bellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the mountainous part of Lycia,
and could look into all its shadowy vales at once. At first there
appeared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rocky
tract of high and precipitous hills. In the more level part of the
country, there were the ruins of houses that had been burnt, and, here
and there, the carcasses of dead cattle, strewn about the pastures where
they had been feeding.
"The Chimaera must have done this mischief," thought Bellerophon. "But
where can the monster be?"
As I have already said, there was nothing remarkable to be detected, at
first sight, in any of the valleys and dells that lay among the
precipitous heights of the mountains. Nothing at all; unless, indeed, it
were three spires of black smoke, which issued from what seemed to be
the mouth of a cavern, and clambered sullenly into the atmosphere.
Before reaching the mountain-top, these three black smoke wreaths
mingled themselves into one. The cavern was almost directly beneath the
winged horse and his rider, at the distance of about a thousand feet.
The smoke, as it crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling
scent, which caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. So
disagreeable was it to the marvellous steed (who was accustomed to
breathe only the purest air), that he waved his wings, and shot half a
mile out of the range of this offensive vapour.
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