Hvor Væggene Står Op

Polly fløj ind i kløften. Væggene var meget større nu. Den røde sten gik lige op. Der var ingen vej at kravle op ad den.

Polly flew into the canyon. The walls were much bigger now. The red rock went straight up. There was no way to climb it.

Mørke linjer løb ned ad væggen. De lignede sort blæk. Men de var ikke maling. Vand og støv lavede dem, meget langsomt, over lang tid.

Dark lines ran down the wall. They looked like black ink. But they were not paint. Water and dust made them, very slowly, over a long time.

Under stenen fandt Polly mange små reder lavet af mudder. Hundredvis af svaler boede der. Ri på væggen, sagde en fugl. Den varme luft går op.

Under the rock, Polly found many small nests made of mud. Hundreds of swallows lived there. Ride the wall, one bird said. The warm air goes up.

Så red Polly på den varme luft. Hun bevægede ikke sine vinger. Den aften var klippen mere end tusind fod høj.

So Polly rode the warm air. She did not move her wings. That evening, the cliff was more than a thousand feet high.