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diff --git a/1881-h/1881-h.htm b/1881-h/1881-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..223dfe1 --- /dev/null +++ b/1881-h/1881-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11354 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Call of the Canyon, by Zane Grey</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Call of the Canyon, by Zane Grey</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Call of the Canyon</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Zane Grey</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September, 1999 [eBook #1881]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 21, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Bill Brewer</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALL OF THE CANYON ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>The Call of the Canyon</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Zane Grey</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +What subtle strange message had come to her out of the West? Carley Burch laid +the letter in her lap and gazed dreamily through the window. +</p> + +<p> +It was a day typical of early April in New York, rather cold and gray, with +steely sunlight. Spring breathed in the air, but the women passing along +Fifty-seventh Street wore furs and wraps. She heard the distant clatter of an L +train and then the hum of a motor car. A hurdy-gurdy jarred into the interval +of quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn has been gone over a year,” she mused, “three months +over a year—and of all his strange letters this seems the strangest +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +She lived again, for the thousandth time, the last moments she had spent with +him. It had been on New-Year’s Eve, 1918. They had called upon friends +who were staying at the McAlpin, in a suite on the twenty-first floor +overlooking Broadway. And when the last quarter hour of that eventful and +tragic year began slowly to pass with the low swell of whistles and bells, +Carley’s friends had discreetly left her alone with her lover, at the +open window, to watch and hear the old year out, the new year in. Glenn +Kilbourne had returned from France early that fall, shell-shocked and gassed, +and otherwise incapacitated for service in the army—a wreck of his former +sterling self and in many unaccountable ways a stranger to her. Cold, silent, +haunted by something, he had made her miserable with his aloofness. But as the +bells began to ring out the year that had been his ruin Glenn had drawn her +close, tenderly, passionately, and yet strangely, too. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, look and listen!” he had whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Under them stretched the great long white flare of Broadway, with its +snow-covered length glittering under a myriad of electric lights. Sixth Avenue +swerved away to the right, a less brilliant lane of blanched snow. The L trains +crept along like huge fire-eyed serpents. The hum of the ceaseless moving line +of motor cars drifted upward faintly, almost drowned in the rising clamor of +the street. Broadway’s gay and thoughtless crowds surged to and fro, from +that height merely a thick stream of black figures, like contending columns of +ants on the march. And everywhere the monstrous electric signs flared up vivid +in white and red and green; and dimmed and paled, only to flash up again. +</p> + +<p> +Ring out the Old! Ring in the New! Carley had poignantly felt the sadness of +the one, the promise of the other. As one by one the siren factory whistles +opened up with deep, hoarse bellow, the clamor of the street and the ringing of +the bells were lost in a volume of continuous sound that swelled on high into a +magnificent roar. It was the voice of a city—of a nation. It was the +voice of a people crying out the strife and the agony of the year—pealing +forth a prayer for the future. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn had put his lips to her ear: “It’s like the voice in my +soul!” Never would she forget the shock of that. And how she had stood +spellbound, enveloped in the mighty volume of sound no longer discordant, but +full of great, pregnant melody, until the white ball burst upon the tower of +the Times Building, showing the bright figures 1919. +</p> + +<p> +The new year had not been many minutes old when Glenn Kilbourne had told her he +was going West to try to recover his health. +</p> + +<p> +Carley roused out of her memories to take up the letter that had so perplexed +her. It bore the postmark, Flagstaff, Arizona. She reread it with slow +pondering thoughtfulness. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +W<small>EST</small> F<small>ORK</small>,<br/> +<i>March</i> 25. +</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p> +D<small>EAR</small> C<small>ARLEY</small>: +</p> + +<p> +It does seem my neglect in writing you is unpardonable. I used to be a pretty +fair correspondent, but in that as in other things I have changed. +</p> + +<p> +One reason I have not answered sooner is because your letter was so sweet and +loving that it made me feel an ungrateful and unappreciative wretch. Another is +that this life I now lead does not induce writing. I am outdoors all day, and +when I get back to this cabin at night I am too tired for anything but bed. +</p> + +<p> +Your imperious questions I must answer—and that <i>must</i>, of course, +is a third reason why I have delayed my reply. First, you ask, +“Don’t you love me any more as you used to?”... Frankly, I do +not. I am sure my old love for you, before I went to France, was selfish, +thoughtless, sentimental, and boyish. I am a man now. And my love for you is +different. Let me assure you that it has been about all left to me of what is +noble and beautiful. Whatever the changes in me for the worse, my love for you, +at least, has grown better, finer, purer. +</p> + +<p> +And now for your second question, “Are you coming home as soon as you are +well again?”... Carley, I <i>am</i> well. I have delayed telling you this +because I knew you would expect me to rush back East with the telling. +But—the fact is, Carley, I am not coming—just yet. I wish it were +possible for me to make you understand. For a long time I seem to have been +frozen within. You know when I came back from France I couldn’t talk. +It’s almost as bad as that now. Yet all that I was then seems to have +changed again. It is only fair to you to tell you that, as I feel now, I hate +the city, I hate people, and particularly I hate that dancing, drinking, +lounging set you chase with. I don’t want to come East until I am over +that, you know... Suppose I never get over it? Well, Carley, you can free +yourself from me by one word that I could never utter. I could never break our +engagement. During the hell I went through in the war my attachment to you +saved me from moral ruin, if it did not from perfect honor and fidelity. This +is another thing I despair of making you understand. And in the chaos +I’ve wandered through <i>since</i> the war my love for you was my only +anchor. You never guessed, did you, that I lived on your letters until I got +well. And now the fact that I might get along without them is no discredit to +their charm or to you. +</p> + +<p> +It is all so hard to put in words, Carley. To lie down with death and get up +with death was nothing. To face one’s degradation was nothing. But to +come home an incomprehensibly changed man—and to see my old life as +strange as if it were the new life of another planet—to try to slip into +the old groove—well, no words of mine can tell you how utterly impossible +it was. +</p> + +<p> +My old job was not open to me, even if I had been able to work. The government +that I fought for left me to starve, or to die of my maladies like a dog, for +all it cared. +</p> + +<p> +I could not live on your money, Carley. My people are poor, as you know. So +there was nothing for me to do but to borrow a little money from my friends and +to come West. I’m glad I had the courage to come. What this West is +I’ll never try to tell you, because, loving the luxury and excitement and +glitter of the city as you do, you’d think I was crazy. +</p> + +<p> +Getting on here, in my condition, was as hard as trench life. But now, +Carley—something has come to me out of the West. That, too, I am unable +to put into words. Maybe I can give you an inkling of it. I’m strong +enough to chop wood all day. No man or woman passes my cabin in a month. But I +am never lonely. I love these vast red canyon walls towering above me. And the +silence is so sweet. Think of the hellish din that filled my ears. Even +now—sometimes, the brook here changes its babbling murmur to the roar of +war. I never understood anything of the meaning of nature until I lived under +these looming stone walls and whispering pines. +</p> + +<p> +So, Carley, try to understand me, or at least be kind. You know they came very +near writing, “Gone west!” after my name, and considering +<i>that</i>, this “Out West” signifies for me a very fortunate +difference. A tremendous difference! For the present I’ll let well enough +alone. +</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<i>Adios</i>. Write soon. Love from<br/> +G<small>LENN</small>. +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s second reaction to the letter was a sudden upflashing desire to +see her lover—to go out West and find him. Impulses with her were rather +rare and inhibited, but this one made her tremble. If Glenn was well again he +must have vastly changed from the moody, stone-faced, and haunted-eyed man who +had so worried and distressed her. He had embarrassed her, too, for sometimes, +in her home, meeting young men there who had not gone into the service, he had +seemed to retreat into himself, singularly aloof, as if his world was not +theirs. +</p> + +<p> +Again, with eager eyes and quivering lips, she read the letter. It contained +words that lifted her heart. Her starved love greedily absorbed them. In them +she had excuse for any resolve that might bring Glenn closer to her. And she +pondered over this longing to go to him. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had the means to come and go and live as she liked. She did not remember +her father, who had died when she was a child. Her mother had left her in the +care of a sister, and before the war they had divided their time between New +York and Europe, the Adirondacks and Florida, Carley had gone in for Red Cross +and relief work with more of sincerity than most of her set. But she was really +not used to making any decision as definite and important as that of going out +West alone. She had never been farther west than Jersey City; and her +conception of the West was a hazy one of vast plains and rough mountains, +squalid towns, cattle herds, and uncouth ill-clad men. +</p> + +<p> +So she carried the letter to her aunt, a rather slight woman with a kindly face +and shrewd eyes, and who appeared somewhat given to old-fashioned garments. +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary, here’s a letter from Glenn,” said Carley. +“It’s more of a stumper than usual. Please read it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me! You look upset,” replied the aunt, mildly, and, adjusting +her spectacles, she took the letter. +</p> + +<p> +Carley waited impatiently for the perusal, conscious of inward forces coming +more and more to the aid of her impulse to go West. Her aunt paused once to +murmur how glad she was that Glenn had gotten well. Then she read on to the +close. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, that’s a fine letter,” she said, fervently. +“Do you see through it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” replied Carley. “That’s why I +asked you to read it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you still love Glenn as you used to before—” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Aunt Mary!” exclaimed Carley, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, Carley, if I’m blunt. But the fact is young women of +modern times are very different from my kind when I was a girl. You +haven’t acted as though you pined for Glenn. You gad around almost the +same as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s a girl to do?” protested Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“You are twenty-six years old, Carley,” retorted Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I am. I’m as young—as I ever was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let’s not argue about modern girls and modern times. We +never get anywhere,” returned her aunt, kindly. “But I can tell you +something of what Glenn Kilbourne means in that letter—if you want to +hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do—indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“The war did something horrible to Glenn aside from wrecking his health. +Shell-shock, they said! I don’t understand that. Out of his mind, they +said! But that never was true. Glenn was as sane as I am, and, my dear, +that’s pretty sane, I’ll have you remember. But he must have +suffered some terrible blight to his spirit—some blunting of his soul. +For months after he returned he walked as one in a trance. Then came a change. +He grew restless. Perhaps that change was for the better. At least it showed +he’d roused. Glenn saw you and your friends and the life you lead, and +all the present, with eyes from which the scales had dropped. He saw what was +<i>wrong</i>. He never said so to me, but I knew it. It wasn’t only to +get well that he went West. It was to get away.... And, Carley Burch, if your +happiness depends on him you had better be up and doing—or you’ll +<i>lose</i> him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Mary!” gasped Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean it. That letter shows how near he came to the Valley of the +Shadow—and how he has become a man.... If I were you I’d go out +West. Surely there must be a place where it would be all right for you to +stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” replied Carley, eagerly. “Glenn wrote me there was +a lodge where people went in nice weather—right down in the canyon not +far from his place. Then, of course, the town—Flagstaff—isn’t +far.... Aunt Mary, I think I’ll go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would. You’re certainly wasting your time here.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I could only go for a visit,” rejoined Carley, thoughtfully. +“A month, perhaps six weeks, if I could stand it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to me if you can stand New York you could stand that place,” +said Aunt Mary, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“The idea of staying away from New York any length of time—why, I +couldn’t do it I... But I can stay out there long enough to bring Glenn +back with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may take you longer than you think,” replied her aunt, with a +gleam in her shrewd eyes. “If you want my advice you will surprise Glenn. +Don’t write him—don’t give him a chance to—well to +suggest courteously that you’d better not come just yet. I don’t +like his words ‘just yet.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Auntie, you’re—rather—more than blunt,” said +Carley, divided between resentment and amaze. “Glenn would be simply wild +to have me come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe he would. Has he ever asked you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No-o—come to think of it, he hasn’t,” replied Carley, +reluctantly. “Aunt Mary, you hurt my feelings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, child, I’m glad to learn your feelings are hurt,” +returned the aunt. “I’m sure, Carley, that underneath all +this—this blasé ultra something you’ve acquired, there’s a +real heart. Only you must hurry and listen to it—or—” +</p> + +<p> +“Or what?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary shook her gray head sagely. “Never mind what. Carley, I’d +like your idea of the most significant thing in Glenn’s letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, his love for me, of course!” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally you think that. But I don’t. What struck me most were +his words, ‘out of the West.’ Carley, you’d do well to ponder +over them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” rejoined Carley, positively. “I’ll do more. +I’ll go out to his wonderful West and see what he meant by them.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley Burch possessed in full degree the prevailing modern craze for speed. +She loved a motor-car ride at sixty miles an hour along a smooth, straight +road, or, better, on the level seashore of Ormond, where on moonlight nights +the white blanched sand seemed to flash toward her. Therefore quite to her +taste was the Twentieth Century Limited which was hurtling her on the way to +Chicago. The unceasingly smooth and even rush of the train satisfied something +in her. An old lady sitting in an adjoining seat with a companion amused Carley +by the remark: “I wish we didn’t go so fast. People nowadays +haven’t time to draw a comfortable breath. Suppose we should run off the +track!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley had no fear of express trains, or motor cars, or transatlantic liners; +in fact, she prided herself in not being afraid of anything. But she wondered +if this was not the false courage of association with a crowd. Before this +enterprise at hand she could not remember anything she had undertaken alone. +Her thrills seemed to be in abeyance to the end of her journey. That night her +sleep was permeated with the steady low whirring of the wheels. Once, roused by +a jerk, she lay awake in the darkness while the thought came to her that she +and all her fellow passengers were really at the mercy of the engineer. Who was +he, and did he stand at his throttle keen and vigilant, thinking of the lives +intrusted to him? Such thoughts vaguely annoyed Carley, and she dismissed them. +</p> + +<p> +A long half-day wait in Chicago was a tedious preliminary to the second part of +her journey. But at last she found herself aboard the California Limited, and +went to bed with a relief quite a stranger to her. The glare of the sun under +the curtain awakened her. Propped up on her pillows, she looked out at +apparently endless green fields or pastures, dotted now and then with little +farmhouses and tree-skirted villages. This country, she thought, must be the +prairie land she remembered lay west of the Mississippi. +</p> + +<p> +Later, in the dining car, the steward smilingly answered her question: +“This is Kansas, and those green fields out there are the wheat that +feeds the nation.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley was not impressed. The color of the short wheat appeared soft and rich, +and the boundless fields stretched away monotonously. She had not known there +was so much flat land in the world, and she imagined it might be a fine country +for automobile roads. When she got back to her seat she drew the blinds down +and read her magazines. Then tiring of that, she went back to the observation +car. Carley was accustomed to attracting attention, and did not resent it, +unless she was annoyed. The train evidently had a full complement of +passengers, who, as far as Carley could see, were people not of her station in +life. The glare from the many windows, and the rather crass interest of several +men, drove her back to her own section. There she discovered that some one had +drawn up her window shades. Carley promptly pulled them down and settled +herself comfortably. Then she heard a woman speak, not particularly low: +“I thought people traveled west to see the country.” And a man +replied, rather dryly. “Wal, not always.” His companion went on: +“If that girl was mine I’d let down her skirt.” The man +laughed and replied: “Martha, you’re shore behind the times. Look +at the pictures in the magazines.” +</p> + +<p> +Such remarks amused Carley, and later she took advantage of an opportunity to +notice her neighbors. They appeared a rather quaint old couple, reminding her +of the natives of country towns in the Adirondacks. She was not amused, +however, when another of her woman neighbors, speaking low, referred to her as +a “lunger.” Carley appreciated the fact that she was pale, but she +assured herself that there ended any possible resemblance she might have to a +consumptive. And she was somewhat pleased to hear this woman’s male +companion forcibly voice her own convictions. In fact, he was nothing if not +admiring. +</p> + +<p> +Kansas was interminably long to Carley, and she went to sleep before riding out +of it. Next morning she found herself looking out at the rough gray and black +land of New Mexico. She searched the horizon for mountains, but there did not +appear to be any. She received a vague, slow-dawning impression that was hard +to define. She did not like the country, though that was not the impression +which eluded her. Bare gray flats, low scrub-fringed hills, bleak cliffs, +jumble after jumble of rocks, and occasionally a long vista down a valley, +somehow compelling—these passed before her gaze until she tired of them. +Where was the West Glenn had written about? One thing seemed sure, and it was +that every mile of this crude country brought her nearer to him. This recurring +thought gave Carley all the pleasure she had felt so far in this endless ride. +It struck her that England or France could be dropped down into New Mexico and +scarcely noticed. +</p> + +<p> +By and by the sun grew hot, the train wound slowly and creakingly upgrade, the +car became full of dust, all of which was disagreeable to Carley. She dozed on +her pillow for hours, until she was stirred by a passenger crying out, +delightedly: “Look! Indians!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley looked, not without interest. As a child she had read about Indians, and +memory returned images both colorful and romantic. From the car window she +espied dusty flat barrens, low squat mud houses, and queer-looking little +people, children naked or extremely ragged and dirty, women in loose garments +with flares of red, and men in white man’s garb, slovenly and motley. All +these strange individuals stared apathetically as the train slowly passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Indians,” muttered Carley, incredulously. “Well, if they are +the noble red people, my illusions are dispelled.” She did not look out +of the window again, not even when the brakeman called out the remarkable name +of Albuquerque. +</p> + +<p> +Next day Carley’s languid attention quickened to the name of Arizona, and +to the frowning red walls of rock, and to the vast rolling stretches of +cedar-dotted land. Nevertheless, it affronted her. This was no country for +people to live in, and so far as she could see it was indeed uninhabited. Her +sensations were not, however, limited to sight. She became aware of unfamiliar +disturbing little shocks or vibrations in her ear drums, and after that a +disagreeable bleeding of the nose. The porter told her this was owing to the +altitude. Thus, one thing and another kept Carley most of the time away from +the window, so that she really saw very little of the country. From what she +had seen she drew the conviction that she had not missed much. At sunset she +deliberately gazed out to discover what an Arizona sunset was like just a pale +yellow flare! She had seen better than that above the Palisades. Not until +reaching Winslow did she realize how near she was to her journey’s end +and that she would arrive at Flagstaff after dark. She grew conscious of +nervousness. Suppose Flagstaff were like these other queer little towns! +</p> + +<p> +Not only once, but several times before the train slowed down for her +destination did Carley wish she had sent Glenn word to meet her. And when, +presently, she found herself standing out in the dark, cold, windy night before +a dim-lit railroad station she more than regretted her decision to surprise +Glenn. But that was too late and she must make the best of her poor judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Men were passing to and fro on the platform, some of whom appeared to be very +dark of skin and eye, and were probably Mexicans. At length an expressman +approached Carley, soliciting patronage. He took her bags and, depositing them +in a wagon, he pointed up the wide street: “One block up an’ turn. +Hotel Wetherford.” Then he drove off. Carley followed, carrying her small +satchel. A cold wind, driving the dust, stung her face as she crossed the +street to a high sidewalk that extended along the block. There were lights in +the stores and on the corners, yet she seemed impressed by a dark, cold, windy +bigness. Many people, mostly men, were passing up and down, and there were +motor cars everywhere. No one paid any attention to her. Gaining the corner of +the block, she turned, and was relieved to see the hotel sign. As she entered +the lobby a clicking of pool balls and the discordant rasp of a phonograph +assailed her ears. The expressman set down her bags and left Carley standing +there. The clerk or proprietor was talking from behind his desk to several men, +and there were loungers in the lobby. The air was thick with tobacco smoke. No +one paid any attention to Carley until at length she stepped up to the desk and +interrupted the conversation there. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this a hotel?” she queried, brusquely. +</p> + +<p> +The shirt-sleeved individual leisurely turned and replied, “Yes, +ma’am.” +</p> + +<p> +And Carley said: “No one would recognize it by the courtesy shown. I have +been standing here waiting to register.” +</p> + +<p> +With the same leisurely case and a cool, laconic stare the clerk turned the +book toward her. “Reckon people round here ask for what they want.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley made no further comment. She assuredly recognized that what she had been +accustomed to could not be expected out here. What she most wished to do at the +moment was to get close to the big open grate where a cheery red-and-gold fire +cracked. It was necessary, however, to follow the clerk. He assigned her to a +small drab room which contained a bed, a bureau, and a stationary washstand +with one spigot. There was also a chair. While Carley removed her coat and hat +the clerk went downstairs for the rest of her luggage. Upon his return Carley +learned that a stage left the hotel for Oak Creek Canyon at nine o’clock +next morning. And this cheered her so much that she faced the strange sense of +loneliness and discomfort with something of fortitude. There was no heat in the +room, and no hot water. When Carley squeezed the spigot handle there burst +forth a torrent of water that spouted up out of the washbasin to deluge her. It +was colder than any ice water she had ever felt. It was piercingly cold. Hard +upon the surprise and shock Carley suffered a flash of temper. But then the +humor of it struck her and she had to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Serves you right—you spoiled doll of luxury!” she mocked. +“This is out West. Shiver and wait on yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +Never before had she undressed so swiftly nor felt grateful for thick woollen +blankets on a hard bed. Gradually she grew warm. The blackness, too, seemed +rather comforting. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only twenty miles from Glenn,” she whispered. “How +strange! I wonder will he be glad.” She felt a sweet, glowing assurance +of that. Sleep did not come readily. Excitement had laid hold of her nerves, +and for a long time she lay awake. After a while the chug of motor cars, the +click of pool balls, the murmur of low voices all ceased. Then she heard a +sound of wind outside, an intermittent, low moaning, new to her ears, and +somehow pleasant. Another sound greeted her—the musical clanging of a +clock that struck the quarters of the hour. Some time late sleep claimed her. +</p> + +<p> +Upon awakening she found she had overslept, necessitating haste upon her part. +As to that, the temperature of the room did not admit of leisurely dressing. +She had no adequate name for the feeling of the water. And her fingers grew so +numb that she made what she considered a disgraceful matter of her attire. +</p> + +<p> +Downstairs in the lobby another cheerful red fire burned in the grate. How +perfectly satisfying was an open fireplace! She thrust her numb hands almost +into the blaze, and simply shook with the tingling pain that slowly warmed out +of them. The lobby was deserted. A sign directed her to a dining room in the +basement, where of the ham and eggs and strong coffee she managed to partake a +little. Then she went upstairs into the lobby and out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +A cold, piercing air seemed to blow right through her. Walking to the near +corner, she paused to look around. Down the main street flowed a leisurely +stream of pedestrians, horses, cars, extending between two blocks of low +buildings. Across from where she stood lay a vacant lot, beyond which began a +line of neat, oddly constructed houses, evidently residences of the town. And +then lifting her gaze, instinctively drawn by something obstructing the sky +line, she was suddenly struck with surprise and delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how perfectly splendid!” she burst out. +</p> + +<p> +Two magnificent mountains loomed right over her, sloping up with majestic sweep +of green and black timber, to a ragged tree-fringed snow area that swept up +cleaner and whiter, at last to lift pure glistening peaks, noble and sharp, and +sunrise-flushed against the blue. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had climbed Mont Blanc and she had seen the Matterhorn, but they had +never struck such amaze and admiration from her as these twin peaks of her +native land. +</p> + +<p> +“What mountains are those?” she asked a passer-by. +</p> + +<p> +“San Francisco Peaks, ma’am,” replied the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, they can’t be over a mile away!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Eighteen miles, ma’am,” he returned, with a grin. +“Shore this Arizonie air is deceivin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“How strange,” murmured Carley. “It’s not that way in +the Adirondacks.” +</p> + +<p> +She was still gazing upward when a man approached her and said the stage for +Oak Creek Canyon would soon be ready to start, and he wanted to know if her +baggage was ready. Carley hurried back to her room to pack. +</p> + +<p> +She had expected the stage would be a motor bus, or at least a large touring +car, but it turned out to be a two-seated vehicle drawn by a team of ragged +horses. The driver was a little wizen-faced man of doubtful years, and he did +not appear obviously susceptible to the importance of his passenger. There was +considerable freight to be hauled, besides Carley’s luggage, but +evidently she was the only passenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon it’s goin’ to be a bad day,” said the driver. +“These April days high up on the desert are windy an’ cold. Mebbe +it’ll snow, too. Them clouds hangin’ around the peaks ain’t +very promisin’. Now, miss, haven’t you a heavier coat or +somethin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not,” replied Carley. “I’ll have to stand +it. Did you say this was desert?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shore did. Wal, there’s a hoss blanket under the seat, an’ +you can have that,” he replied, and, climbing to the seat in front of +Carley, he took up the reins and started the horses off at a trot. +</p> + +<p> +At the first turning Carley became specifically acquainted with the +driver’s meaning of a bad day. A gust of wind, raw and penetrating, laden +with dust and stinging sand, swept full in her face. It came so suddenly that +she was scarcely quick enough to close her eyes. It took considerable clumsy +effort on her part with a handkerchief, aided by relieving tears, to clear her +sight again. Thus uncomfortably Carley found herself launched on the last lap +of her journey. +</p> + +<p> +All before her and alongside lay the squalid environs of the town. Looked back +at, with the peaks rising behind, it was not unpicturesque. But the hard road +with its sheets of flying dust, the bleak railroad yards, the round pens she +took for cattle corrals, and the sordid debris littering the approach to a huge +sawmill,—these were offensive in Carley’s sight. From a tall +dome-like stack rose a yellowish smoke that spread overhead, adding to the +lowering aspect of the sky. Beyond the sawmill extended the open country +sloping somewhat roughly, and evidently once a forest, but now a hideous bare +slash, with ghastly burned stems of trees still standing, and myriads of stumps +attesting to denudation. +</p> + +<p> +The bleak road wound away to the southwest, and from this direction came the +gusty wind. It did not blow regularly so that Carley could be on her guard. It +lulled now and then, permitting her to look about, and then suddenly again +whipping dust into her face. The smell of the dust was as unpleasant as the +sting. It made her nostrils smart. It was penetrating, and a little more of it +would have been suffocating. And as a leaden gray bank of broken clouds rolled +up the wind grew stronger and the air colder. Chilled before, Carley now became +thoroughly cold. +</p> + +<p> +There appeared to be no end to the devastated forest land, and the farther she +rode the more barren and sordid grew the landscape. Carley forgot about the +impressive mountains behind her. And as the ride wore into hours, such was her +discomfort and disillusion that she forgot about Glenn Kilbourne. She did not +reach the point of regretting her adventure, but she grew mightily unhappy. Now +and then she espied dilapidated log cabins and surroundings even more squalid +than the ruined forest. What wretched abodes! Could it be possible that people +had lived in them? She imagined men had but hardly women and children. +Somewhere she had forgotten an idea that women and children were extremely +scarce in the West. +</p> + +<p> +Straggling bits of forest—yellow pines, the driver called the +trees—began to encroach upon the burned-over and arid barren land. To +Carley these groves, by reason of contrast and proof of what once was, only +rendered the landscape more forlorn and dreary. Why had these miles and miles +of forest been cut? By money grubbers, she supposed, the same as were +devastating the Adirondacks. Presently, when the driver had to halt to repair +or adjust something wrong with the harness, Carley was grateful for a respite +from cold inaction. She got out and walked. Sleet began to fall, and when she +resumed her seat in the vehicle she asked the driver for the blanket to cover +her. The smell of this horse blanket was less endurable than the cold. Carley +huddled down into a state of apathetic misery. Already she had enough of the +West. +</p> + +<p> +But the sleet storm passed, the clouds broke, the sun shone through, greatly +mitigating her discomfort. By and by the road led into a section of real +forest, unspoiled in any degree. Carley saw large gray squirrels with tufted +ears and white bushy tails. Presently the driver pointed out a flock of huge +birds, which Carley, on second glance, recognized as turkeys, only these were +sleek and glossy, with flecks of bronze and black and white, quite different +from turkeys back East. “There must be a farm near,” said Carley, +gazing about. +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am. Them’s wild turkeys,” replied the driver, +“an’ shore the best eatin’ you ever had in your life.” +</p> + +<p> +A little while afterwards, as they were emerging from the woodland into more +denuded country, he pointed out to Carley a herd of gray white-rumped animals +that she took to be sheep. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ them’s antelope,” he said. “Once this desert +was overrun by antelope. Then they nearly disappeared. An’ now +they’re increasin’ again.” +</p> + +<p> +More barren country, more bad weather, and especially an exceedingly rough road +reduced Carley to her former state of dejection. The jolting over roots and +rocks and ruts was worse than uncomfortable. She had to hold on to the seat to +keep from being thrown out. The horses did not appreciably change their gait +for rough sections of the road. Then a more severe jolt brought Carley’s +knee in violent contact with an iron bolt on the forward seat, and it hurt her +so acutely that she had to bite her lips to keep from screaming. A smoother +stretch of road did not come any too soon for her. +</p> + +<p> +It led into forest again. And Carley soon became aware that they had at last +left the cut and burned-over district of timberland behind. A cold wind moaned +through the treetops and set the drops of water pattering down upon her. It +lashed her wet face. Carley closed her eyes and sagged in her seat, mostly +oblivious to the passing scenery. “The girls will never believe this of +me,” she soliloquized. And indeed she was amazed at herself. Then thought +of Glenn strengthened her. It did not really matter what she suffered on the +way to him. Only she was disgusted at her lack of stamina, and her appalling +sensitiveness to discomfort. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, hyar’s Oak Creek Canyon,” called the driver. +</p> + +<p> +Carley, rousing out of her weary preoccupation, opened her eyes to see that the +driver had halted at a turn of the road, where apparently it descended a +fearful declivity. +</p> + +<p> +The very forest-fringed earth seemed to have opened into a deep abyss, ribbed +by red rock walls and choked by steep mats of green timber. The chasm was a +V-shaped split and so deep that looking downward sent at once a chill and a +shudder over Carley. At that point it appeared narrow and ended in a box. In +the other direction, it widened and deepened, and stretched farther on between +tremendous walls of red, and split its winding floor of green with glimpses of +a gleaming creek, bowlder-strewn and ridged by white rapids. A low mellow roar +of rushing waters floated up to Carley’s ears. What a wild, lonely, +terrible place! Could Glenn possibly live down there in that ragged rent in the +earth? It frightened her—the sheer sudden plunge of it from the heights. +Far down the gorge a purple light shone on the forested floor. And on the +moment the sun burst through the clouds and sent a golden blaze down into the +depths, transforming them incalculably. The great cliffs turned gold, the creek +changed to glancing silver, the green of trees vividly freshened, and in the +clefts rays of sunlight burned into the blue shadows. Carley had never gazed +upon a scene like this. Hostile and prejudiced, she yet felt wrung from her an +acknowledgment of beauty and grandeur. But wild, violent, savage! Not livable! +This insulated rift in the crust of the earth was a gigantic burrow for beasts, +perhaps for outlawed men—not for a civilized person—not for Glenn +Kilbourne. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be scart, ma’am,” spoke up the driver. +“It’s safe if you’re careful. An’ I’ve druv this +manys the time.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s heartbeats thumped at her side, rather denying her taunted +assurance of fearlessness. Then the rickety vehicle started down at an angle +that forced her to cling to her seat. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +Carley, clutching her support, with abated breath and prickling skin, gazed in +fascinated suspense over the rim of the gorge. Sometimes the wheels on that +side of the vehicle passed within a few inches of the edge. The brakes +squeaked, the wheels slid; and she could hear the scrape of the iron-shod hoofs +of the horses as they held back stiff legged, obedient to the wary call of the +driver. +</p> + +<p> +The first hundred yards of that steep road cut out of the cliff appeared to be +the worst. It began to widen, with descents less precipitous. Tips of trees +rose level with her gaze, obstructing sight of the blue depths. Then brush +appeared on each side of the road. Gradually Carley’s strain relaxed, and +also the muscular contraction by which she had braced herself in the seat. The +horses began to trot again. The wheels rattled. The road wound around abrupt +corners, and soon the green and red wall of the opposite side of the canyon +loomed close. Low roar of running water rose to Carley’s ears. When at +length she looked out instead of down she could see nothing but a mass of green +foliage crossed by tree trunks and branches of brown and gray. Then the vehicle +bowled under dark cool shade, into a tunnel with mossy wet cliff on one side, +and close-standing trees on the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon we’re all right now, onless we meet somebody comin’ +up,” declared the driver. +</p> + +<p> +Carley relaxed. She drew a deep breath of relief. She had her first faint +intimation that perhaps her extensive experience of motor cars, express trains, +transatlantic liners, and even a little of airplanes, did not range over the +whole of adventurous life. She was likely to meet something, entirely new and +striking out here in the West. +</p> + +<p> +The murmur of falling water sounded closer. Presently Carley saw that the road +turned at the notch in the canyon, and crossed a clear swift stream. Here were +huge mossy boulders, and red walls covered by lichens, and the air appeared dim +and moist, and full of mellow, hollow roar. Beyond this crossing the road +descended the west side of the canyon, drawing away and higher from the creek. +Huge trees, the like of which Carley had never seen, began to stand +majestically up out of the gorge, dwarfing the maples and white-spotted +sycamores. The driver called these great trees yellow pines. +</p> + +<p> +At last the road led down from the steep slope to the floor of the canyon. What +from far above had appeared only a green timber-choked cleft proved from close +relation to be a wide winding valley, tip and down, densely forested for the +most part, yet having open glades and bisected from wall to wall by the creek. +Every quarter of a mile or so the road crossed the stream; and at these fords +Carley again held on desperately and gazed out dubiously, for the creek was +deep, swift, and full of bowlders. Neither driver nor horses appeared to mind +obstacles. Carley was splashed and jolted not inconsiderably. They passed +through groves of oak trees, from which the creek manifestly derived its name; +and under gleaming walls, cold, wet, gloomy, and silent; and between lines of +solemn wide-spreading pines. Carley saw deep, still green pools eddying under +huge massed jumble of cliffs, and stretches of white water, and then, high +above the treetops, a wild line of canyon rim, cold against the sky. She felt +shut in from the world, lost in an unscalable rut of the earth. Again the +sunlight had failed, and the gray gloom of the canyon oppressed her. It struck +Carley as singular that she could not help being affected by mere weather, mere +heights and depths, mere rock walls and pine trees, and rushing water. For +really, what had these to do with her? These were only physical things that she +was passing. Nevertheless, although she resisted sensation, she was more and +more shot through and through with the wildness and savageness of this canyon. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp turn of the road to the right disclosed a slope down the creek, across +which showed orchards and fields, and a cottage nestling at the base of the +wall. The ford at this crossing gave Carley more concern than any that had been +passed, for there was greater volume and depth of water. One of the horses +slipped on the rocks, plunged up and on with great splash. They crossed, +however, without more mishap to Carley than further acquaintance with this +iciest of waters. From this point the driver turned back along the creek, +passed between orchards and fields, and drove along the base of the red wall to +come suddenly upon a large rustic house that had been hidden from +Carley’s sight. It sat almost against the stone cliff, from which poured +a white foamy sheet of water. The house was built of slabs with the bark on, +and it had a lower and upper porch running all around, at least as far as the +cliff. Green growths from the rock wall overhung the upper porch. A column of +blue smoke curled lazily upward from a stone chimney. On one of the porch posts +hung a sign with rude lettering: “Lolomi Lodge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, Josh, did you fetch the flour?” called a woman’s voice +from inside. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo I Reckon I didn’t forgit nothin’,” replied the +man, as he got down. “An’ say, Mrs. Hutter, hyar’s a young +lady from Noo Yorrk.” +</p> + +<p> +That latter speech of the driver’s brought Mrs. Hutter out on the porch. +“Flo, come here,” she called to some one evidently near at hand. +And then she smilingly greeted Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Get down an’ come in, miss,” she said. “I’m sure +glad to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley, being stiff and cold, did not very gracefully disengage herself from +the high muddy wheel and step. When she mounted to the porch she saw that Mrs. +Hutter was a woman of middle age, rather stout, with strong face full of fine +wavy lines, and kind dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Miss Burch,” said Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re the girl whose picture Glenn Kilbourne has over his +fireplace,” declared the woman, heartily. “I’m sure glad to +meet you, an’ my daughter Flo will be, too.” +</p> + +<p> +That about her picture pleased and warmed Carley. “Yes, I’m Glenn +Kilbourne’s fiancée. I’ve come West to surprise him. Is he here.... +Is—is he well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine. I saw him yesterday. He’s changed a great deal from what he +was at first. Most all the last few months. I reckon you won’t know +him.... But you’re wet an’ cold an’ you look fagged. Come +right in to the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you; I’m all right,” returned Carley. +</p> + +<p> +At the doorway they encountered a girl of lithe and robust figure, quick in her +movements. Carley was swift to see the youth and grace of her; and then a face +that struck Carley as neither pretty nor beautiful, but still wonderfully +attractive. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, here’s Miss Burch,” burst out Mrs. Hutter, with +cheerful importance. “Glenn Kilbourne’s girl come all the way from +New York to surprise him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Carley, I’m shore happy to meet you!” said the girl, in +a voice of slow drawling richness. “I know you. Glenn has told me all +about you.” +</p> + +<p> +If this greeting, sweet and warm as it seemed, was a shock to Carley, she gave +no sign. But as she murmured something in reply she looked with all a +woman’s keenness into the face before her. Flo Hutter had a fair skin +generously freckled; a mouth and chin too firmly cut to suggest a softer +feminine beauty; and eyes of clear light hazel, penetrating, frank, fearless. +Her hair was very abundant, almost silver-gold in color, and it was either +rebellious or showed lack of care. Carley liked the girl’s looks and +liked the sincerity of her greeting; but instinctively she reacted +antagonistically because of the frank suggestion of intimacy with Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +But for that she would have been spontaneous and friendly rather than +restrained. +</p> + +<p> +They ushered Carley into a big living room and up to a fire of blazing logs, +where they helped divest her of the wet wraps. And all the time they talked in +the solicitous way natural to women who were kind and unused to many visitors. +Then Mrs. Hutter bustled off to make a cup of hot coffee while Flo talked. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll shore give you the nicest room—with a sleeping porch +right under the cliff where the water falls. It’ll sing you to sleep. Of +course you needn’t use the bed outdoors until it’s warmer. Spring +is late here, you know, and we’ll have nasty weather yet. You really +happened on Oak Creek at its least attractive season. But then it’s +always—well, just Oak Creek. You’ll come to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say I’ll remember my first sight of it and the ride down +that cliff road,” said Carley, with a wan smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s nothing to what you’ll see and do,” +returned Flo, knowingly. “We’ve had Eastern tenderfeet here before. +And never was there a one of them who didn’t come to love Arizona.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tenderfoot! It hadn’t occurred to me. But of course—” +murmured Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Then Mrs. Hutter returned, carrying a tray, which she set upon a chair, and +drew to Carley’s side. “Eat an’ drink,” she said, as if +these actions were the cardinally important ones of life. “Flo, you carry +her bags up to that west room we always give to some particular person we want +to love Lolomi.” Next she threw sticks of wood upon the fire, making it +crackle and blaze, then seated herself near Carley and beamed upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll not mind if we call you Carley?” she asked, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed no! I—I’d like it,” returned Carley, made +to feel friendly and at home in spite of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“You see it’s not as if you were just a stranger,” went on +Mrs. Hutter. “Tom—that’s Flo’s father—took a +likin’ to Glenn Kilbourne when he first came to Oak Creek over a year +ago. I wonder if you all know how sick that soldier boy was.... Well, he lay on +his back for two solid weeks—in the room we’re givin’ you. +An’ I for one didn’t think he’d ever get up. But he did. +An’ he got better. An’ after a while he went to work for Tom. Then +six months an’ more ago he invested in the sheep business with Tom. He +lived with us until he built his cabin up West Fork. He an’ Flo have run +together a good deal, an’ naturally he told her about you. So you see +you’re not a stranger. An’ we want you to feel you’re with +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Mrs. Hutter,” replied Carley, feelingly. “I +never could thank you enough for being good to Glenn. I did not know he was +so—so sick. At first he wrote but seldom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon he never wrote you or told you what he did in the war,” +declared Mrs. Hutter. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed he never did!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll tell you some day. For Tom found out all about him. Got +some of it from a soldier who came to Flagstaff for lung trouble. He’d +been in the same company with Glenn. We didn’t know this boy’s name +while he was in Flagstaff. But later Tom found out. John Henderson. He was only +twenty-two, a fine lad. An’ he died in PhÅ“nix. We tried to get him out +here. But the boy wouldn’t live on charity. He was always expectin’ +money—a war bonus, whatever that was. It didn’t come. He was a +clerk at the El Tovar for a while. Then he came to Flagstaff. But it was too +cold an’ he stayed there too long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad,” rejoined Carley, thoughtfully. This information as to +the suffering of American soldiers had augmented during the last few months, +and seemed to possess strange, poignant power to depress Carley. Always she had +turned away from the unpleasant. And the misery of unfortunates was as +disturbing almost as direct contact with disease and squalor. But it had begun +to dawn upon Carley that there might occur circumstances of life, in every way +affronting her comfort and happiness, which it would be impossible to turn her +back upon. +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture Flo returned to the room, and again Carley was struck with the +girl’s singular freedom of movement and the sense of sure poise and joy +that seemed to emanate from her presence. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve made a fire in your little stove,” she said. +“There’s water heating. Now won’t you come up and change +those traveling clothes. You’ll want to fix up for Glenn, won’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Carley had to smile at that. This girl indeed was frank and unsophisticated, +and somehow refreshing. Carley rose. +</p> + +<p> +“You are both very good to receive me as a friend,” she said. +“I hope I shall not disappoint you.... Yes, I do want to improve my +appearance before Glenn sees me.... Is there any way I can send word to +him—by someone who has not seen me?” +</p> + +<p> +“There shore is. I’ll send Charley, one of our hired boys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. Then tell him to say there is a lady here from New York to +see him, and it is very important.” +</p> + +<p> +Flo Hutter clapped her hands and laughed with glee. Her gladness gave Carley a +little twinge of conscience. Jealously was an unjust and stifling thing. +</p> + +<p> +Carley was conducted up a broad stairway and along a boarded hallway to a room +that opened out on the porch. A steady low murmur of falling water assailed her +ears. Through the open door she saw across the porch to a white tumbling lacy +veil of water falling, leaping, changing, so close that it seemed to touch the +heavy pole railing of the porch. +</p> + +<p> +This room resembled a tent. The sides were of canvas. It had no ceiling. But +the rough-hewn shingles of the roof of the house sloped down closely. The +furniture was home made. An Indian rug covered the floor. The bed with its +woolly clean blankets and the white pillows looked inviting. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this where Glenn lay—when he was sick?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Flo, gravely, and a shadow darkened her eyes. +“I ought to tell you all about it. I will some day. But you must not be +made unhappy now.... Glenn nearly died here. Mother or I never left his +side—for a while there—when life was so bad.” +</p> + +<p> +She showed Carley how to open the little stove and put the short billets of +wood inside and work the damper; and cautioning her to keep an eye on it so +that it would not get too hot, she left Carley to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Carley found herself in an unfamiliar mood. There came a leap of her heart +every time she thought of the meeting with Glenn, so soon now to be, but it was +not that which was unfamiliar. She seemed to have a difficult approach to +undefined and unusual thoughts. All this was so different from her regular +life. Besides she was tired. But these explanations did not suffice. There was +a pang in her breast which must owe its origin to the fact that Glenn Kilbourne +had been ill in this little room and some other girl than Carley Burch had +nursed him. “Am I jealous?” she whispered. “No!” But +she knew in her heart that she lied. A woman could no more help being jealous, +under such circumstances, than she could help the beat and throb of her blood. +Nevertheless, Carley was glad Flo Hutter had been there, and always she would +be grateful to her for that kindness. +</p> + +<p> +Carley disrobed and, donning her dressing gown, she unpacked her bags and hung +her things upon pegs under the curtained shelves. Then she lay down to rest, +with no intention of slumber. But there was a strange magic in the fragrance of +the room, like the piny tang outdoors, and in the feel of the bed, and +especially in the low, dreamy hum and murmur of the waterfall. She fell asleep. +When she awakened it was five o’clock. The fire in the stove was out, but +the water was still warm. She bathed and dressed, not without care, yet as +swiftly as was her habit at home; and she wore white because Glenn had always +liked her best in white. But it was assuredly not a gown to wear in a country +house where draughts of cold air filled the unheated rooms and halls. So she +threw round her a warm sweater-shawl, with colorful bars becoming to her dark +eyes and hair. +</p> + +<p> +All the time that she dressed and thought, her very being seemed to be +permeated by that soft murmuring sound of falling water. No moment of waking +life there at Lolomi Lodge, or perhaps of slumber hours, could be wholly free +of that sound. It vaguely tormented Carley, yet was not uncomfortable. She went +out upon the porch. The small alcove space held a bed and a rustic chair. Above +her the peeled poles of the roof descended to within a few feet of her head. +She had to lean over the rail of the porch to look up. The green and red rock +wall sheered ponderously near. The waterfall showed first at the notch of a +fissure, where the cliff split; and down over smooth places the water gleamed, +to narrow in a crack with little drops, and suddenly to leap into a thin white +sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Out from the porch the view was restricted to glimpses between the pines, and +beyond to the opposite wall of the canyon. How shut-in, how walled in this +home! +</p> + +<p> +“In summer it might be good to spend a couple of weeks here,” +soliloquized Carley. “But to <i>live</i> here? Heavens! A person might as +well be buried.” +</p> + +<p> +Heavy footsteps upon the porch below accompanied by a man’s voice +quickened Carley’s pulse. Did they belong to Glenn? After a strained +second she decided not. Nevertheless, the acceleration of her blood and an +unwonted glow of excitement, long a stranger to her, persisted as she left the +porch and entered the boarded hall. How gray and barn-like this upper part of +the house! From the head of the stairway, however, the big living room +presented a cheerful contrast. There were warm colors, some comfortable +rockers, a lamp that shed a bright light, and an open fire which alone would +have dispelled the raw gloom of the day. +</p> + +<p> +A large man in corduroys and top boots advanced to meet Carley. He had a +clean-shaven face that might have been hard and stern but for his smile, and +one look into his eyes revealed their resemblance to Flo’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Tom Hutter, an’ I’m shore glad to welcome you to +Lolomi, Miss Carley,” he said. His voice was deep and slow. There were +ease and force in his presence, and the grip he gave Carley’s hand was +that of a man who made no distinction in hand-shaking. Carley, quick in her +perceptions, instantly liked him and sensed in him a strong personality. She +greeted him in turn and expressed her thanks for his goodness to Glenn. +Naturally Carley expected him to say something about her fiance, but he did +not. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Carley, if you don’t mind, I’ll say you’re +prettier than your picture,” said Hutter. “An’ that is shore +sayin’ a lot. All the sheep herders in the country have taken a peep at +your picture. Without permission, you understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m greatly flattered,” laughed Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re glad you’ve come,” replied Hutter, simply. +“I just got back from the East myself. Chicago an’ Kansas City. I +came to Arizona from Illinois over thirty years ago. An’ this was my +first trip since. Reckon I’ve not got back my breath yet. Times have +changed, Miss Carley. Times an’ people!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hutter bustled in from the kitchen, where manifestly she had been +importantly engaged. “For the land’s sakes!” she exclaimed, +fervently, as she threw up her hands at sight of Carley. Her expression was +indeed a compliment, but there was a suggestion of shock in it. Then Flo came +in. She wore a simple gray gown that reached the top of her high shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, don’t mind mother,” said Flo. “She means your +dress is lovely. Which is my say, too.... But, listen. I just saw Glenn +comin’ up the road.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley ran to the open door with more haste than dignity. She saw a tall man +striding along. Something about him appeared familiar. It was his walk—an +erect swift carriage, with a swing of the march still visible. She recognized +Glenn. And all within her seemed to become unstable. She watched him cross the +road, face the house. How changed! No—this was not Glenn Kilbourne. This +was a bronzed man, wide of shoulder, roughly garbed, heavy limbed, quite +different from the Glenn she remembered. He mounted the porch steps. And +Carley, still unseen herself, saw his face. Yes—Glenn! Hot blood seemed +to be tingling liberated in her veins. Wheeling away, she backed against the +wall behind the door and held up a warning finger to Flo, who stood nearest. +Strange and disturbing then, to see something in Flo Hutter’s eyes that +could be read by a woman in only one way! +</p> + +<p> +A tall form darkened the doorway. It strode in and halted. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo!—who—where?” he began, breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +His voice, so well remembered, yet deeper, huskier, fell upon Carley’s +ears as something unconsciously longed for. His frame had so filled out that +she did not recognize it. His face, too, had unbelievably changed—not in +the regularity of feature that had been its chief charm, but in contour of +cheek and vanishing of pallid hue and tragic line. Carley’s heart swelled +with joy. Beyond all else she had hoped to see the sad fixed hopelessness, the +havoc, gone from his face. Therefore the restraint and nonchalance upon which +Carley prided herself sustained eclipse. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn! Look—who’s—here!” she called, in voice +she could not have steadied to save her life. This meeting was more than she +had anticipated. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn whirled with an inarticulate cry. He saw Carley. Then—no matter how +unreasonable or exacting had been Carley’s longings, they were satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +“You!” he cried, and leaped at her with radiant face. +</p> + +<p> +Carley not only did not care about the spectators of this meeting, but forgot +them utterly. More than the joy of seeing Glenn, more than the all-satisfying +assurance to her woman’s heart that she was still beloved, welled up a +deep, strange, profound something that shook her to her depths. It was beyond +selfishness. It was gratitude to God and to the West that had restored him. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley! I couldn’t believe it was you,” he declared, +releasing her from his close embrace, yet still holding her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Glenn—it’s I—all you’ve left of me,” +she replied, tremulously, and she sought with unsteady hands to put up her +dishevelled hair. “You—you big sheep herder! You Goliath!” +</p> + +<p> +“I never was so knocked off my pins,” he said. “A lady to see +me—from New York!... Of course it had to be you. But I couldn’t +believe. Carley, you were good to come.” +</p> + +<p> +Somehow the soft, warm look of his dark eyes hurt her. New and strange indeed +it was to her, as were other things about him. Why had she not come West +sooner? She disengaged herself from his hold and moved away, striving for the +composure habitual with her. Flo Hutter was standing before the fire, looking +down. Mrs. Hutter beamed upon Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let’s have supper,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon Miss Carley can’t eat now, after that hug Glenn gave +her,” drawled Tom Hutter. “I was some worried. You see Glenn has +gained seventy pounds in six months. An’ he doesn’t know his +strength.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seventy pounds!” exclaimed Carley, gayly. “I thought it was +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you must excuse my violence,” said Glenn. +“I’ve been hugging sheep. That is, when I shear a sheep I have to +hold him.” +</p> + +<p> +They all laughed, and so the moment of readjustment passed. Presently Carley +found herself sitting at table, directly across from Flo. A pearly whiteness +was slowly warming out of the girl’s face. Her frank clear eyes met +Carley’s and they had nothing to hide. Carley’s first requisite for +character in a woman was that she be a thoroughbred. She lacked it often enough +herself to admire it greatly in another woman. And that moment saw a birth of +respect and sincere liking in her for this Western girl. If Flo Hutter ever was +a rival she would be an honest one. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after supper Tom Hutter winked at Carley and said he “reckoned +on general principles it was his hunch to go to bed.” Mrs. Hutter +suddenly discovered tasks to perform elsewhere. And Flo said in her cool sweet +drawl, somehow audacious and tantalizing, “Shore you two will want to +spoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Flo, Eastern girls are no longer old-fashioned enough for +that,” declared Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“Too bad! Reckon I can’t see how love could ever be old-fashioned. +Good night, Glenn. Good night, Carley.” +</p> + +<p> +Flo stood an instant at the foot of the dark stairway where the light from the +lamp fell upon her face. It seemed sweet and earnest to Carley. It expressed +unconscious longing, but no envy. Then she ran up the stairs to disappear. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, is that girl in love with you?” asked Carley, bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +To her amaze, Glenn laughed. When had she heard him laugh? It thrilled her, yet +nettled her a little. +</p> + +<p> +“If that isn’t like you!” he ejaculated. “Your very +first words after we are left alone! It brings back the East, Carley.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably recall to memory will be good for you,” returned Carley. +“But tell me. Is she in love with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no, certainly not!” replied Glenn. “Anyway, how could I +answer such a question? It just made me laugh, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Humph! I can remember when you were not above making love to a pretty +girl. You certainly had me worn to a frazzle—before we became +engaged,” said Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Old times! How long ago they seem!... Carley, it’s sure wonderful +to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like my gown?” asked Carley, pirouetting for his +benefit. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what little there is of it is beautiful,” he replied, with a +slow smile. “I always liked you best in white. Did you remember?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I got the gown for you. And I’ll never wear it except for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Same old coquette—same old eternal feminine,” he said, half +sadly. “You know when you look stunning.... But, Carley, the cut of +that—or rather the abbreviation of it—inclines me to think that +style for women’s clothes has not changed for the better. In fact, +it’s worse than two years ago in Paris and later in New York. Where will +you women draw the line?” +</p> + +<p> +“Women are slaves to the prevailing mode,” rejoined Carley. +“I don’t imagine women who dress would ever draw a line, if fashion +went on dictating.” +</p> + +<p> +“But would they care so much—if they had to work—plenty of +work—and children?” inquired Glenn, wistfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn! Work and children for modern women? Why, you are dreaming!” +said Carley, with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +She saw him gaze thoughtfully into the glowing embers of the fire, and as she +watched him her quick intuition grasped a subtle change in his mood. It brought +a sternness to his face. She could hardly realize she was looking at the Glenn +Kilbourne of old. +</p> + +<p> +“Come close to the fire,” he said, and pulled up a chair for her. +Then he threw more wood upon the red coals. “You must be careful not to +catch cold out here. The altitude makes a cold dangerous. And that gown is no +protection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, one chair used to be enough for us,” she said, archly, +standing beside him. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not respond to her hint, and, a little affronted, she accepted the +proffered chair. Then he began to ask questions rapidly. He was eager for news +from home—from his people—from old friends. However he did not +inquire of Carley about her friends. She talked unremittingly for an hour, +before she satisfied his hunger. But when her turn came to ask questions she +found him reticent. +</p> + +<p> +He had fallen upon rather hard days at first out here in the West; then his +health had begun to improve; and as soon as he was able to work his condition +rapidly changed for the better; and now he was getting along pretty well. +Carley felt hurt at his apparent disinclination to confide in her. The strong +cast of his face, as if it had been chiseled in bronze; the stern set of his +lips and the jaw that protruded lean and square cut; the quiet masked light of +his eyes; the coarse roughness of his brown hands, mute evidence of strenuous +labors—these all gave a different impression from his brief remarks about +himself. Lastly there was a little gray in the light-brown hair over his +temples. Glenn was only twenty-seven, yet he looked ten years older. Studying +him so, with the memory of earlier years in her mind, she was forced to admit +that she liked him infinitely more as he was now. He seemed proven. Something +had made him a man. Had it been his love for her, or the army service, or the +war in France, or the struggle for life and health afterwards? Or had it been +this rugged, uncouth West? Carley felt insidious jealousy of this last +possibility. She feared this West. She was going to hate it. She had womanly +intuition enough to see in Flo Hutter a girl somehow to be reckoned with. +Still, Carley would not acknowledge to herself that his simple, unsophisticated +Western girl could possibly be a rival. Carley did not need to consider the +fact that she had been spoiled by the attention of men. It was not her vanity +that precluded Flo Hutter as a rival. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the conversation drew to a lapse, and it suited Carley to let it be +so. She watched Glenn as he gazed thoughtfully into the amber depths of the +fire. What was going on in his mind? Carley’s old perplexity suddenly had +rebirth. And with it came an unfamiliar fear which she could not smother. Every +moment that she sat there beside Glenn she was realizing more and more a +yearning, passionate love for him. The unmistakable manifestation of his joy at +sight of her, the strong, almost rude expression of his love, had called to +some responsive, but hitherto unplumbed deeps of her. If it had not been for +these undeniable facts Carley would have been panic-stricken. They reassured +her, yet only made her state of mind more dissatisfied. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, do you still go in for dancing?” Glenn asked, presently, +with his thoughtful eyes turning to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. I like dancing, and it’s about all the exercise I +get,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Have the dances changed—again?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the music, perhaps, that changes the dancing. Jazz is +becoming popular. And about all the crowd dances now is an infinite variation +of fox-trot.” +</p> + +<p> +“No waltzing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I waltzed once this winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jazz? That’s a sort of tinpanning, jiggly stuff, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, it’s the fever of the public pulse,” replied Carley. +“The graceful waltz, like the stately minuet, flourished back in the days +when people rested rather than raced.” +</p> + +<p> +“More’s the pity,” said Glenn. Then after a moment, in which +his gaze returned to the fire, he inquired rather too casually, “Does +Morrison still chase after you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I’m neither old—nor married,” she replied, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s true. But if you were married it wouldn’t make +any difference to Morrison.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley could not detect bitterness or jealousy in his voice. She would not have +been averse to hearing either. She gathered from his remark, however, that he +was going to be harder than ever to understand. What had she said or done to +make him retreat within himself, aloof, impersonal, unfamiliar? He did not +impress her as loverlike. What irony of fate was this that held her there +yearning for his kisses and caresses as never before, while he watched the +fire, and talked as to a mere acquaintance, and seemed sad and far away? Or did +she merely imagine that? Only one thing could she be sure of at that moment, +and it was that pride would never be her ally. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, look here,” she said, sliding her chair close to his and +holding out her left hand, slim and white, with its glittering diamond on the +third finger. +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand in his and pressed it, and smiled at her. “Yes, Carley, +it’s a beautiful, soft little hand. But I think I’d like it better +if it were strong and brown, and coarse on the inside—from useful +work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like Flo Hutter’s?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley looked proudly into his eyes. “People are born in different +stations. I respect your little Western friend, Glenn, but could I wash and +sweep, milk cows and chop wood, and all that sort of thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you couldn’t,” he admitted, with a blunt little +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you want me to?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s hard to say,” he replied, knitting his brows. +“I hardly know. I think it depends on you.... But if you did do such work +wouldn’t you be happier?” +</p> + +<p> +“Happier! Why Glenn, I’d be miserable!... But listen. It +wasn’t my beautiful and useless hand I wanted you to see. It was my +engagement ring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!—Well?” he went on, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never had it off since you left New York,” she said, +softly. “You gave it to me four years ago. Do you remember? It was on my +twenty-second birthday. You said it would take two months’ salary to pay +the bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“It sure did,” he retorted, with a hint of humor. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, during the war it was not so—so very hard to wear this ring +as an engagement ring should be worn,” said Carley, growing more earnest. +“But after the war—especially after your departure West it was +terribly hard to be true to the significance of this betrothal ring. There was +a let-down in all women. Oh, no one need tell <i>me!</i> There was. And men +were affected by that and the chaotic condition of the times. New York was wild +during the year of your absence. Prohibition was a joke.—Well, I gadded, +danced, dressed, drank, smoked, motored, just the same as the other women in +our crowd. Something drove me to. I never rested. Excitement seemed to be +happiness—Glenn, I am not making any plea to excuse all that. But I want +you to know—how under trying circumstances—I was absolutely true to +you. Understand me. I mean true as regards love. Through it all I loved you +just the same. And now I’m with you, it seems, oh, so much more!... Your +last letter hurt me. I don’t know just how. But I came West to see +you—to tell you this—and to ask you.... Do you want this ring +back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” he replied, forcibly, with a dark flush spreading +over his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Then—you love me?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—I love you,” he returned, deliberately. “And in +spite of all you say—very probably more than you love me.... But you, +like all women, make love and its expression the sole object of life. Carley, I +have been concerned with keeping my body from the grave and my soul from +hell.” +</p> + +<p> +“But—dear—you’re well now?” she returned, with +trembling lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve almost pulled out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what is wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wrong?—With me or you,” he queried, with keen, enigmatical +glance upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is wrong between us? There is something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, a man who has been on the verge—as I have +been—seldom or never comes back to happiness. But perhaps—” +</p> + +<p> +“You frighten me,” cried Carley, and, rising, she sat upon the arm +of his chair and encircled his neck with her arms. “How can I help if I +do not understand? Am I so miserably little?... Glenn, <i>must</i> I tell you? +No woman can live without love. I need to be loved. That’s all +that’s wrong with <i>me</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you are still an imperious, mushy girl,” replied Glenn, +taking her into his arms. “I need to be loved, too. But that’s not +what is wrong with me. You’ll have to find it out yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a dear old Sphinx,” she retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Carley,” he said, earnestly. “About this love-making +stuff. Please don’t misunderstand me. I love you. I’m starved for +your kisses. But—is it right to ask them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right! Aren’t we engaged? And don’t I want to give +them?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were only <i>sure</i> we’d be married!” he said, in +low, tense voice, as if speaking more to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Married!” cried Carley, convulsively clasping him. “Of +course we’ll be married. Glenn, you wouldn’t jilt me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, what I mean is that you might never really marry me,” he +answered, seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if that’s all you need be sure of, Glenn Kilbourne, you may +begin to make love to me now.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +It was late when Carley went up to her room. And she was in such a softened +mood, so happy and excited and yet disturbed in mind, that the coldness and the +darkness did not matter in the least. She undressed in pitchy blackness, +stumbling over chair and bed, feeling for what she needed. And in her mood this +unusual proceeding was fun. When ready for bed she opened the door to take a +peep out. Through the dense blackness the waterfall showed dimly opaque. Carley +felt a soft mist wet her face. The low roar of the falling water seemed to +envelop her. Under the cliff wall brooded impenetrable gloom. But out above the +treetops shone great stars, wonderfully white and radiant and cold, with a +piercing contrast to the deep clear blue of sky. The waterfall hummed into an +absolutely dead silence. It emphasized the silence. Not only cold was it that +made Carley shudder. How lonely, how lost, how hidden this canyon! +</p> + +<p> +Then she hurried to bed, grateful for the warm woolly blankets. Relaxation and +thought brought consciousness of the heat of her blood, the beat and throb and +swell of her heart, of the tumult within her. In the lonely darkness of her +room she might have faced the truth of her strangely renewed and augmented love +for Glenn Kilbourne. But she was more concerned with her happiness. She had won +him back. Her presence, her love had overcome his restraint. She thrilled in +the sweet consciousness of her woman’s conquest. How splendid he was! To +hold back physical tenderness, the simple expressions of love, because he had +feared they might unduly influence her! He had grown in many ways. She must be +careful to reach up to his ideals. That about Flo Hutter’s toil-hardened +hands! Was that significance somehow connected with the rift in the lute? For +Carley admitted to herself that there was something amiss, something +incomprehensible, something intangible that obtruded its menace into her dream +of future happiness. Still, what had she to fear, so long as she could be with +Glenn? +</p> + +<p> +And yet there were forced upon her, insistent and perplexing, the +questions—was her love selfish? was she considering him? was she blind to +something he could see? Tomorrow and next day and the days to come held promise +of joyous companionship with Glenn, yet likewise they seemed full of a portent +of trouble for her, or fight and ordeal, of lessons that would make life +significant for her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +Carley was awakened by rattling sounds in her room. The raising of sleepy +eyelids disclosed Flo on her knees before the little stove, in the act of +lighting a fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Mawnin’, Carley,” she drawled. “It’s shore cold. +Reckon it’ll snow today, worse luck, just because you’re here. Take +my hunch and stay in bed till the fire burns up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall do no such thing,” declared Carley, heroically. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re afraid you’ll take cold,” said Flo. “This +is desert country with high altitude. Spring is here when the sun shines. But +it’s only shinin’ in streaks these days. That means winter, really. +Please be good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it doesn’t require much self-denial to stay here awhile +longer,” replied Carley, lazily. +</p> + +<p> +Flo left with a parting admonition not to let the stove get red-hot. And Carley +lay snuggled in the warm blankets, dreading the ordeal of getting out into that +cold bare room. Her nose was cold. When her nose grew cold, it being a faithful +barometer as to temperature, Carley knew there was frost in the air. She +preferred summer. Steam-heated rooms with hothouse flowers lending their +perfume had certainly not trained Carley for primitive conditions. She had a +spirit, however, that was waxing a little rebellious to all this intimation as +to her susceptibility to colds and her probable weakness under privation. +Carley got up. Her bare feet landed upon the board floor instead of the Navajo +rug, and she thought she had encountered cold stone. Stove and hot water +notwithstanding, by the time she was half dressed she was also half frozen. +“Some actor fellow once said w-when you w-went West you were c-camping +out,” chattered Carley. “Believe me, he said something.” +</p> + +<p> +The fact was Carley had never camped out. Her set played golf, rode horseback, +motored and house-boated, but they had never gone in for uncomfortable trips. +The camps and hotels in the Adirondacks were as warm and luxurious as +Carley’s own home. Carley now missed many things. And assuredly her flesh +was weak. It cost her effort of will and real pain to finish lacing her boots. +As she had made an engagement with Glenn to visit his cabin, she had donned an +outdoor suit. She wondered if the cold had anything to do with the perceptible +diminishing of the sound of the waterfall. Perhaps some of the water had +frozen, like her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Carley went downstairs to the living room, and made no effort to resist a rush +to the open fire. Flo and her mother were amused at Carley’s impetuosity. +“You’ll like that stingin’ of the air after you get used to +it,” said Mrs. Hutter. Carley had her doubts. When she was thoroughly +thawed out she discovered an appetite quite unusual for her, and she enjoyed +her breakfast. Then it was time to sally forth to meet Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s pretty sharp this mawnin’,” said Flo. +“You’ll need gloves and sweater.” +</p> + +<p> +Having fortified herself with these, Carley asked how to find West Fork Canyon. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s down the road a little way,” replied Flo. “A +great narrow canyon opening on the right side. You can’t miss it.” +</p> + +<p> +Flo accompanied her as far as the porch steps. A queer-looking individual was +slouching along with ax over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Charley,” said Flo. “He’ll show +you.” Then she whispered: “He’s sort of dotty sometimes. A +horse kicked him once. But mostly he’s sensible.” +</p> + +<p> +At Flo’s call the fellow halted with a grin. He was long, lean, loose +jointed, dressed in blue overalls stuck into the tops of muddy boots, and his +face was clear olive without beard or line. His brow bulged a little, and from +under it peered out a pair of wistful brown eyes that reminded Carley of those +of a dog she had once owned. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, it ain’t a-goin’ to be a nice day,” remarked +Charley, as he tried to accommodate his strides to Carley’s steps. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you tell?” asked Carley. “It looks clear and +bright.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naw, this is a dark mawnin’. Thet’s a cloudy sun. +We’ll hev snow on an’ off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind bad weather?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me? All the same to me. Reckon, though, I like it cold so I can loaf +round a big fire at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like a big fire, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever camped out?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not what you’d call the real thing,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, thet’s too bad. Reckon it’ll be tough fer you,” +he went on, kindly. “There was a gurl tenderfoot heah two years ago +an’ she had a hell of a time. They all joked her, ’cept me, +an’ played tricks on her. An’ on her side she was always +puttin’ her foot in it. I was shore sorry fer her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were very kind to be an exception,” murmured Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“You look out fer Tom Hutter, an’ I reckon Flo ain’t so darn +above layin’ traps fer you. ’Specially as she’s sweet on your +beau. I seen them together a lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” interrogated Carley, encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Kilbourne is the best fellar thet ever happened along Oak Creek. I +helped him build his cabin. We’ve hunted some together. Did you ever +hunt?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, you’ve shore missed a lot of fun,” he said. +“Turkey huntin’. Thet’s what fetches the gurls. I reckon +because turkeys are so good to eat. The old gobblers hev begun to gobble now. +I’ll take you gobbler huntin’ if you’d like to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I would.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s good trout fishin’ along heah a little later,” +he said, pointing to the stream. “Crick’s too high now. I like West +Fork best. I’ve ketched some lammin’ big ones up there.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley was amused and interested. She could not say that Charley had shown any +indication of his mental peculiarity to her. It took considerable restraint not +to lead him to talk more about Flo and Glenn. Presently they reached the turn +in the road, opposite the cottage Carley had noticed yesterday, and here her +loquacious escort halted. +</p> + +<p> +“You take the trail heah,” he said, pointing it out, +“an’ foller it into West Fork. So long, an’ don’t +forget we’re goin’ huntin’ turkeys.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley smiled her thanks, and, taking to the trail, she stepped out briskly, +now giving attention to her surroundings. The canyon had widened, and the creek +with its deep thicket of green and white had sheered to the left. On her right +the canyon wall appeared to be lifting higher—and higher. She could not +see it well, owing to intervening treetops. The trail led her through a grove +of maples and sycamores, out into an open park-like bench that turned to the +right toward the cliff. Suddenly Carley saw a break in the red wall. It was the +intersecting canyon, West Fork. What a narrow red-walled gateway! Huge pine +trees spread wide gnarled branches over her head. The wind made soft rush in +their tops, sending the brown needles lightly on the air. Carley turned the +bulging corner, to be halted by a magnificent spectacle. It seemed a mountain +wall loomed over her. It was the western side of this canyon, so lofty that +Carley had to tip back her head to see the top. She swept her astonished gaze +down the face of this tremendous red mountain wall and then slowly swept it +upward again. This phenomenon of a cliff seemed beyond the comprehension of her +sight. It looked a mile high. The few trees along its bold rampart resembled +short spear-pointed bushes outlined against the steel gray of sky. Ledges, +caves, seams, cracks, fissures, beetling red brows, yellow crumbling crags, +benches of green growths and niches choked with brush, and bold points where +single lonely pine trees grew perilously, and blank walls a thousand feet +across their shadowed faces—these features gradually took shape in +Carley’s confused sight, until the colossal mountain front stood up +before her in all its strange, wild, magnificent ruggedness and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“Arizona! Perhaps this is what he meant,” murmured Carley. “I +never dreamed of anything like this.... But, oh! it overshadows me—bears +me down! I could never have a moment’s peace under it.” +</p> + +<p> +It fascinated her. There were inaccessible ledges that haunted her with their +remote fastnesses. How wonderful would it be to get there, rest there, if that +were possible! But only eagles could reach them. There were places, then, that +the desecrating hands of man could not touch. The dark caves were mystically +potent in their vacant staring out at the world beneath them. The crumbling +crags, the toppling ledges, the leaning rocks all threatened to come thundering +down at the breath of wind. How deep and soft the red color in contrast with +the green! How splendid the sheer bold uplift of gigantic steps! Carley found +herself marveling at the forces that had so rudely, violently, and grandly left +this monument to nature. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old Fifth Avenue gadder!” called a gay voice. “If the +back wall of my yard so halts you—what will you ever do when you see the +Painted Desert, or climb Sunset Peak, or look down into the Grand +Canyon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Glenn, where are you?” cried Carley, gazing everywhere near at +hand. But he was farther away. The clearness of his voice had deceived her. +Presently she espied him a little distance away, across a creek she had not +before noticed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on,” he called. “I want to see you cross the stepping +stones.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley ran ahead, down a little slope of clean red rock, to the shore of the +green water. It was clear, swift, deep in some places and shallow in others, +with white wreathes or ripples around the rocks evidently placed there as a +means to cross. Carley drew back aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I could never make it,” she called. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, my Alpine climber,” he taunted. “Will you let +Arizona daunt you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want me to fall in and catch cold?” she cried, desperately. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, big women might even cross the bad places of modern life on +stepping stones of their dead selves!” he went on, with something of +mockery. “Surely a few physical steps are not beyond you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say, are you mangling <i>Tennyson</i> or just kidding me?” she +demanded slangily. +</p> + +<p> +“My love, Flo could cross here with her eyes shut.” +</p> + +<p> +That thrust spurred Carley to action. His words were jest, yet they held a hint +of earnest. With her heart at her throat Carley stepped on the first rock, and, +poising, she calculated on a running leap from stone to stone. Once launched, +she felt she was falling downhill. She swayed, she splashed, she slipped; and +clearing the longest leap from the last stone to shore she lost her balance and +fell into Glenn’s arms. His kisses drove away both her panic and her +resentment. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove! I didn’t think you’d even attempt it!” he +declared, manifestly pleased. “I made sure I’d have to pack you +over—in fact, rather liked the idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t advise you to employ any such means again—to dare +me,” she retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a nifty outdoor suit you’ve on,” he said, +admiringly. “I was wondering what you’d wear. I like short outing +skirts for women, rather than trousers. The service sort of made the fair sex +dippy about pants.” +</p> + +<p> +“It made them dippy about more than that,” she replied. “You +and I will never live to see the day that women recover their balance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you,” replied Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +Carley locked her arm in his. “Honey, I want to have a good time today. +Cut out all the <i>other</i> women stuff.... Take me to see your little gray +home in the West. Or is it gray?” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. “Why, yes, it’s gray, just about. The logs have +bleached some.” +</p> + +<p> +Glenn led her away up a trail that climbed between bowlders, and meandered on +over piny mats of needles under great, silent, spreading pines; and closer to +the impondering mountain wall, where at the base of the red rock the creek +murmured strangely with hollow gurgle, where the sun had no chance to affect +the cold damp gloom; and on through sweet-smelling woods, out into the sunlight +again, and across a wider breadth of stream; and up a slow slope covered with +stately pines, to a little cabin that faced the west. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, sweetheart,” said Glenn. “Now we shall see what +you are made of.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley was non-committal as to that. Her intense interest precluded any humor +at this moment. Not until she actually saw the log cabin Glenn had erected with +his own hands had she been conscious of any great interest. But sight of it +awoke something unaccustomed in Carley. As she stepped into the cabin her heart +was not acting normally for a young woman who had no illusions about love in a +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn’s cabin contained one room about fifteen feet wide by twenty long. +Between the peeled logs were lines of red mud, hard dried. There was a small +window opposite the door. In one corner was a couch of poles, with green tips +of pine boughs peeping from under the blankets. The floor consisted of flat +rocks laid irregularly, with many spaces of earth showing between. The open +fireplace appeared too large for the room, but the very bigness of it, as well +as the blazing sticks and glowing embers, appealed strongly to Carley. A +rough-hewn log formed the mantel, and on it Carley’s picture held the +place of honor. Above this a rifle lay across deer antlers. Carley paused here +in her survey long enough to kiss Glenn and point to her photograph. +</p> + +<p> +“You couldn’t have pleased me more.” +</p> + +<p> +To the left of the fireplace was a rude cupboard of shelves, packed with boxes, +cans, bags, and utensils. Below the cupboard, hung upon pegs, were blackened +pots and pans, a long-handled skillet, and a bucket. Glenn’s table was a +masterpiece. There was no danger of knocking it over. It consisted of four +poles driven into the ground, upon which had been nailed two wide slabs. This +table showed considerable evidence of having been scrubbed scrupulously clean. +There were two low stools, made out of boughs, and the seats had been covered +with woolly sheep hide. In the right-hand corner stood a neat pile of firewood, +cut with an ax, and beyond this hung saddle and saddle blanket, bridle and +spurs. An old sombrero was hooked upon the pommel of the saddle. Upon the wall, +higher up, hung a lantern, resting in a coil of rope that Carley took to be a +lasso. Under a shelf upon which lay a suitcase hung some rough wearing apparel. +</p> + +<p> +Carley noted that her picture and the suit case were absolutely the only +physical evidences of Glenn’s connection with his Eastern life. That had +an unaccountable effect upon Carley. What had she expected? Then, after another +survey of the room, she began to pester Glenn with questions. He had to show +her the spring outside and the little bench with basin and soap. Sight of his +soiled towel made her throw up her hands. She sat on the stools. She lay on the +couch. She rummaged into the contents of the cupboard. She threw wood on the +fire. Then, finally, having exhausted her search and inquiry, she flopped down +on one of the stools to gaze at Glenn in awe and admiration and incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn—you’ve actually lived here!” she ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +“Since last fall before the snow came,” he said, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Snow! Did it snow?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I guess. I was snowed in for a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you choose this lonely place—way off from the +Lodge?” she asked, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to be by myself,” he replied, briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean this is a sort of camp-out place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I call it my home,” he replied, and there was a low, +strong sweetness in his voice she had never heard before. +</p> + +<p> +That silenced her for a while. She went to the door and gazed up at the +towering wall, more wonderful than ever, and more fearful, too, in her sight. +Presently tears dimmed her eyes. She did not understand her feeling; she was +ashamed of it; she hid it from Glenn. Indeed, there was something terribly +wrong between her and Glenn, and it was not in him. This cabin he called home +gave her a shock which would take time to analyze. At length she turned to him +with gay utterance upon her lips. She tried to put out of her mind a dawning +sense that this close-to-the-earth habitation, this primitive dwelling, held +strange inscrutable power over a self she had never divined she possessed. The +very stones in the hearth seemed to call out from some remote past, and the +strong sweet smell of burnt wood thrilled to the marrow of her bones. How +little she knew of herself! But she had intelligence enough to understand that +there was a woman in her, the female of the species; and through that the +sensations from logs and stones and earth and fire had strange power to call up +the emotions handed down to her from the ages. The thrill, the queer heartbeat, +the vague, haunting memory of something, as of a dim childhood adventure, the +strange prickling sense of dread—these abided with her and augmented +while she tried to show Glenn her pride in him and also how funny his cabin +seemed to her. +</p> + +<p> +Once or twice he hesitatingly, and somewhat appealingly, she imagined, tried to +broach the subject of his work there in the West. But Carley wanted a little +while with him free of disagreeable argument. It was a foregone conclusion that +she would not like his work. Her intention at first had been to begin at once +to use all persuasion in her power toward having him go back East with her, or +at the latest some time this year. But the rude log cabin had checked her +impulse. She felt that haste would be unwise. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn Kilbourne, I told you why I came West to see you,” she said, +spiritedly. “Well, since you still swear allegiance to your girl from the +East, you might entertain her a little bit before getting down to business +talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Carley,” he replied, laughing. “What do you want +to do? The day is at your disposal. I wish it were June. Then if you +didn’t fall in love with West Fork you’d be no good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I love people, not places,” she returned. +</p> + +<p> +“So I remember. And that’s one thing I don’t like. But +let’s not quarrel. What’ll we do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you tramp with me all around, until I’m good and hungry. +Then we’ll come back here—and you can cook dinner for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! Oh, I know you’re just bursting with curiosity to see how +I’ll do it. Well, you may be surprised, miss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go,” she urged. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I take my gun or fishing rod?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall take nothing but <i>me</i>,” retorted Carley. +“What chance has a girl with a man, if he can hunt or fish?” +</p> + +<p> +So they went out hand in hand. Half of the belt of sky above was obscured by +swiftly moving gray clouds. The other half was blue and was being slowly +encroached upon by the dark storm-like pall. How cold the air! Carley had +already learned that when the sun was hidden the atmosphere was cold. Glenn led +her down a trail to the brook, where he calmly picked her up in his arms, quite +easily, it appeared, and leisurely packed her across, kissing her half a dozen +times before he deposited her on her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, you do this sort of thing so well that it makes me imagine you +have practice now and then,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“No. But you are pretty and sweet, and like the girl you were four years +ago. That takes me back to those days.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you. That’s dear of you. I think I am something of a +cat.... I’ll be glad if this walk leads us often to the creek.” +</p> + +<p> +Spring might have been fresh and keen in the air, but it had not yet brought +much green to the brown earth or to the trees. The cotton-woods showed a light +feathery verdure. The long grass was a bleached white, and low down close to +the sod fresh tiny green blades showed. The great fern leaves were sear and +ragged, and they rustled in the breeze. Small gray sheath-barked trees with +clumpy foliage and snags of dead branches, Glenn called cedars; and, grotesque +as these were, Carley rather liked them. They were approachable, not majestic +and lofty like the pines, and they smelled sweetly wild, and best of all they +afforded some protection from the bitter wind. Carley rested better than she +walked. The huge sections of red rock that had tumbled from above also +interested Carley, especially when the sun happened to come out for a few +moments and brought out their color. She enjoyed walking on the fallen pines, +with Glenn below, keeping pace with her and holding her hand. Carley looked in +vain for flowers and birds. The only living things she saw were rainbow trout +that Glenn pointed out to her in the beautiful clear pools. The way the great +gray bowlders trooped down to the brook as if they were cattle going to drink; +the dark caverns under the shelving cliffs, where the water murmured with such +hollow mockery; the low spear-pointed gray plants, resembling century plants, +and which Glenn called mescal cactus, each with its single straight dead stalk +standing on high with fluted head; the narrow gorges, perpendicularly walled in +red, where the constricted brook plunged in amber and white cascades over fall +after fall, tumbling, rushing, singing its water melody—these all held +singular appeal for Carley as aspects of the wild land, fascinating for the +moment, symbolic of the lonely red man and his forbears, and by their raw +contrast making more necessary and desirable and elevating the comforts and +conventions of civilization. The cave man theory interested Carley only as +mythology. +</p> + +<p> +Lonelier, wilder, grander grew Glenn’s canyon. Carley was finally forced +to shift her attention from the intimate objects of the canyon floor to the +aloof and unattainable heights. Singular to feel the difference! That which she +could see close at hand, touch if she willed, seemed to, become part of her +knowledge, could be observed and so possessed and passed by. But the gold-red +ramparts against the sky, the crannied cliffs, the crags of the eagles, the +lofty, distant blank walls, where the winds of the gods had written their +wars—these haunted because they could never be possessed. Carley had +often gazed at the Alps as at celebrated pictures. She admired, she +appreciated—then she forgot. But the canyon heights did not affect her +that way. They vaguely dissatisfied, and as she could not be sure of what they +dissatisfied, she had to conclude that it was in herself. To see, to watch, to +dream, to seek, to strive, to endure, to find! Was that what they meant? They +might make her thoughtful of the vast earth, and its endless age, and its +staggering mystery. But what more! +</p> + +<p> +The storm that had threatened blackened the sky, and gray scudding clouds +buried the canyon rims, and long veils of rain and sleet began to descend. The +wind roared through the pines, drowning the roar of the brook. Quite suddenly +the air grew piercingly cold. Carley had forgotten her gloves, and her pockets +had not been constructed to protect hands. Glenn drew her into a sheltered nook +where a rock jutted out from overhead and a thicket of young pines helped break +the onslaught of the wind. There Carley sat on a cold rock, huddled up close to +Glenn, and wearing to a state she knew would be misery. Glenn not only seemed +content; he was happy. “This is great,” he said. His coat was open, +his hands uncovered, and he watched the storm and listened with manifest +delight. Carley hated to betray what a weakling she was, so she resigned +herself to her fate, and imagined she felt her fingers numbing into ice, and +her sensitive nose slowly and painfully freezing. +</p> + +<p> +The storm passed, however, before Carley sank into abject and open +wretchedness. She managed to keep pace with Glenn until exercise warmed her +blood. At every little ascent in the trail she found herself laboring to get +her breath. There was assuredly evidence of abundance of air in this canyon, +but somehow she could not get enough of it. Glenn detected this and said it was +owing to the altitude. When they reached the cabin Carley was wet, stiff, cold, +exhausted. How welcome the shelter, the open fireplace! Seeing the cabin in new +light, Carley had the grace to acknowledge to herself that, after all, it was +not so bad. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for a good fire and then dinner,” announced Glenn, with the +air of one who knew his ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I help?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Not today. I do not want you to spring any domestic science on me +now.” Carley was not averse to withholding her ignorance. She watched +Glenn with surpassing curiosity and interest. First he threw a quantity of wood +upon the smoldering fire. +</p> + +<p> +“I have ham and mutton of my own raising,” announced Glenn, with +importance. “Which would you prefer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of your own raising. What do you mean?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, you’ve been so steeped in the fog of the crowd that you +are blind to the homely and necessary things of living. I mean I have here meat +of both sheep and hog that I raised myself. That is to say, mutton and ham. +Which do you like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ham!” cried Carley, incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +Without more ado Glenn settled to brisk action, every move of which Carley +watched with keen eyes. The usurping of a woman’s province by a man was +always an amusing thing. But for Glenn Kilbourne—what more would it be? +He evidently knew what he wanted, for every movement was quick, decisive. One +after another he placed bags, cans, sacks, pans, utensils on the table. Then he +kicked at the roaring fire, settling some of the sticks. He strode outside to +return with a bucket of water, a basin, towel, and soap. Then he took down two +queer little iron pots with heavy lids. To each pot was attached a wire handle. +He removed the lids, then set both the pots right on the fire or in it. Pouring +water into the basin, he proceeded to wash his hands. Next he took a large +pail, and from a sack he filled it half full of flour. To this he added baking +powder and salt. It was instructive for Carley to see him run his skillful +fingers all through that flour, as if searching for lumps. After this he knelt +before the fire and, lifting off one of the iron pots with a forked stick, he +proceeded to wipe out the inside of the pot and grease it with a piece of fat. +His next move was to rake out a pile of the red coals, a feat he performed with +the stick, and upon these he placed the pot. Also he removed the other pot from +the fire, leaving it, however, quite close. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, all eyes?” he bantered, suddenly staring at her. +“Didn’t I say I’d surprise you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t mind me. This is about the happiest and most bewildered +moment—of my life,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the table, Glenn dug at something in a large red can. He paused a +moment to eye Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Girl, do you know how to make biscuits?” he queried. +</p> + +<p> +“I might have known in my school days, but I’ve forgotten,” +she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you make apple pie?” he demanded, imperiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” rejoined Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you expect to please your husband?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why—by marrying him, I suppose,” answered Carley, as if +weighing a problem. +</p> + +<p> +“That has been the universal feminine point of view for a good many +years,” replied Glenn, flourishing a flour-whitened hand. “But it +never served the women of the Revolution or the pioneers. And they were the +builders of the nation. It will never serve the wives of the future, if we are +to survive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, you rave!” ejaculated Carley, not knowing whether to laugh +or be grave. “You were talking of humble housewifely things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely. The humble things that were the foundation of the great +nation of Americans. I meant work and children.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley could only stare at him. The look he flashed at her, the sudden +intensity and passion of his ringing words, were as if he gave her a glimpse +into the very depths of him. He might have begun in fun, but he had finished +otherwise. She felt that she really did not know this man. Had he arraigned her +in judgment? A flush, seemingly hot and cold, passed over her. Then it relieved +her to see that he had returned to his task. +</p> + +<p> +He mixed the shortening with the flour, and, adding water, he began a thorough +kneading. When the consistency of the mixture appeared to satisfy him he took a +handful of it, rolled it into a ball, patted and flattened it into a biscuit, +and dropped it into the oven he had set aside on the hot coals. Swiftly he +shaped eight or ten other biscuits and dropped them as the first. Then he put +the heavy iron lid on the pot, and with a rude shovel, improvised from a +flattened tin can, he shoveled red coals out of the fire, and covered the lid +with them. His next move was to pare and slice potatoes, placing these aside in +a pan. A small black coffee-pot half full of water, was set on a glowing part +of the fire. Then he brought into use a huge, heavy knife, a murderous-looking +implement it appeared to Carley, with which he cut slices of ham. These he +dropped into the second pot, which he left uncovered. Next he removed the flour +sack and other inpedimenta from the table, and proceeded to set places for +two—blue-enamel plate and cup, with plain, substantial-looking knives, +forks, and spoons. He went outside, to return presently carrying a small crock +of butter. Evidently he had kept the butter in or near the spring. It looked +dewy and cold and hard. After that he peeped under the lid of the pot which +contained the biscuits. The other pot was sizzling and smoking, giving forth a +delicious savory odor that affected Carley most agreeably. The coffee-pot had +begun to steam. With a long fork Glenn turned the slices of ham and stood a +moment watching them. Next he placed cans of three sizes upon the table; and +these Carley conjectured contained sugar, salt, and pepper. Carley might not +have been present, for all the attention he paid to her. Again he peeped at the +biscuits. At the edge of the hot embers he placed a tin plate, upon which he +carefully deposited the slices of ham. Carley had not needed sight of them to +know she was hungry; they made her simply ravenous. That done, he poured the +pan of sliced potatoes into the pot. Carley judged the heat of that pot to be +extreme. Next he removed the lid from the other pot, exposing biscuits slightly +browned; and evidently satisfied with these, he removed them from the coals. He +stirred the slices of potatoes round and round; he emptied two heaping +tablespoonfuls of coffee into the coffee-pot. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley,” he said, at last turning to her with a warm smile, +“out here in the West the cook usually yells, ‘Come and get +it.’ Draw up your stool.” +</p> + +<p> +And presently Carley found herself seated across the crude table from Glenn, +with the background of chinked logs in her sight, and the smart of wood smoke +in her eyes. In years past she had sat with him in the soft, subdued, +gold-green shadows of the Astor, or in the sumptuous atmosphere of the St. +Regis. But this event was so different, so striking, that she felt it would +have limitless significance. For one thing, the look of Glenn! When had he ever +seemed like this, wonderfully happy to have her there, consciously proud of +this dinner he had prepared in half an hour, strangely studying her as one on +trial? This might have had its effect upon Carley’s reaction to the +situation, making it sweet, trenchant with meaning, but she was hungry enough +and the dinner was good enough to make this hour memorable on that score alone. +She ate until she was actually ashamed of herself. She laughed heartily, she +talked, she made love to Glenn. Then suddenly an idea flashed into her quick +mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, did this girl Flo teach you to cook?” she queried, sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“No. I always was handy in camp. Then out here I had the luck to fall in +with an old fellow who was a wonderful cook. He lived with me for a while. ... +Why, what difference would it have made—had Flo taught me?” +</p> + +<p> +Carley felt the heat of blood in her face. “I don’t know that it +would have made a difference. Only—I’m glad she didn’t teach +you. I’d rather no girl could teach you what I couldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I’m a pretty good cook, then?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve enjoyed this dinner more than any I’ve ever +eaten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Carley. That’ll help a lot,” he said, gayly, but his +eyes shone with earnest, glad light. “I hoped I’d surprise you. +I’ve found out here that I want to do things well. The West stirs +something in a man. It must be an unwritten law. You stand or fall by your own +hands. Back East you know meals are just occasions—to hurry +through—to dress for—to meet somebody—to eat because you have +to eat. But out here they are different. I don’t know how. In the city, +producers, merchants, waiters serve you for money. The meal is a transaction. +It has no significance. It is money that keeps you from starvation. But in the +West money doesn’t mean much. You must work to live.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley leaned her elbows on the table and gazed at him curiously and +admiringly. “Old fellow, you’re a wonder. I can’t tell you +how proud I am of you. That you could come West weak and sick, and fight your +way to health, and learn to be self-sufficient! It is a splendid achievement. +It amazes me. I don’t grasp it. I want to think. Nevertheless +I—” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” he queried, as she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind now,” she replied, hastily, averting her eyes. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +The day was far spent when Carley returned to the Lodge—and in spite of +the discomfort of cold and sleet, and the bitter wind that beat in her face as +she struggled up the trail—it was a day never to be forgotten. Nothing +had been wanting in Glenn’s attention or affection. He had been comrade, +lover, all she craved for. And but for his few singular words about work and +children there had been no serious talk. Only a play day in his canyon and his +cabin! Yet had she appeared at her best? Something vague and perplexing knocked +at the gate of her consciousness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +Two warm sunny days in early May inclined Mr. Hutter to the opinion that +pleasant spring weather was at hand and that it would be a propitious time to +climb up on the desert to look after his sheep interests. Glenn, of course, +would accompany him. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley and I will go too,” asserted Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon that’ll be good,” said Hutter, with approving nod. +</p> + +<p> +His wife also agreed that it would be fine for Carley to see the beautiful +desert country round Sunset Peak. But Glenn looked dubious. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, it’ll be rather hard,” he said. “You’re +soft, and riding and lying out will stove you up. You ought to break in +gradually.” +</p> + +<p> +“I rode ten miles today,” rejoined Carley. “And didn’t +mind it—much.” This was a little deviation from stern veracity. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore Carley’s well and strong,” protested Flo. +“She’ll get sore, but that won’t kill her.” +</p> + +<p> +Glenn eyed Flo with rather penetrating glance. “I might drive Carley +round about in the car,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“But you can’t drive over those lava flats, or go round, either. +We’d have to send horses in some cases miles to meet you. It’s +horseback if you go at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shore we’ll go horseback,” spoke up Flo. “Carley has +got it all over that Spencer girl who was here last summer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, too. I am sure I hope so. Because you remember what the ride +to Long Valley did to Miss Spencer,” rejoined Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” inquired Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Bad cold, peeled nose, skinned shin, saddle sores. She was in bed two +days. She didn’t show much pep the rest of her stay here, and she never +got on another horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is that all, Glenn?” returned Carley, in feigned surprise. +“Why, I imagined from your tone that Miss Spencer’s ride must have +occasioned her discomfort.... See here, Glenn. I may be a tenderfoot, but +I’m no mollycoddle.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I surrender,” replied Glenn, with a laugh. “Really, +I’m delighted. But if anything happens—don’t you blame me. +I’m quite sure that a long horseback ride, in spring, on the desert, will +show you a good many things about yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +That was how Carley came to find herself, the afternoon of the next day, +astride a self-willed and unmanageable little mustang, riding in the rear of +her friends, on the way through a cedar forest toward a place called Deep Lake. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had not been able yet, during the several hours of their journey, to +take any pleasure in the scenery or in her mount. For in the first place there +was nothing to see but scrubby little gnarled cedars and drab-looking rocks; +and in the second this Indian pony she rode had discovered she was not an adept +horsewoman and had proceeded to take advantage of the fact. It did not help +Carley’s predicament to remember that Glenn had decidedly advised her +against riding this particular mustang. To be sure, Flo had approved of +Carley’s choice, and Mr. Hutter, with a hearty laugh, had fallen in line: +“Shore. Let her ride one of the broncs, if she wants.” So this +animal she bestrode must have been a bronc, for it did not take him long to +elicit from Carley a muttered, “I don’t know what bronc means, but +it sounds like this pony acts.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley had inquired the animal’s name from the young herder who had +saddled him for her. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, I reckon he ain’t got much of a name,” replied the lad, +with a grin, as he scratched his head. “For us boys always called him +Spillbeans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Humph! What a beautiful cognomen!” ejaculated Carley, “But +according to Shakespeare any name will serve. I’ll ride him +or—or—” +</p> + +<p> +So far there had not really been any necessity for the completion of that +sentence. But five miles of riding up into the cedar forest had convinced +Carley that she might not have much farther to go. Spillbeans had ambled along +well enough until he reached level ground where a long bleached grass waved in +the wind. Here he manifested hunger, then a contrary nature, next +insubordination, and finally direct hostility. Carley had urged, pulled, and +commanded in vain. Then when she gave Spillbeans a kick in the flank he jumped +stiff legged, propelling her up out of the saddle, and while she was descending +he made the queer jump again, coming up to meet her. The jolt she got seemed to +dislocate every bone in her body. Likewise it hurt. Moreover, along with her +idea of what a spectacle she must have presented, it quickly decided Carley +that Spillbeans was a horse that was not to be opposed. Whenever he wanted a +mouthful of grass he stopped to get it. Therefore Carley was always in the +rear, a fact which in itself did not displease her. Despite his contrariness, +however, Spillbeans had apparently no intention of allowing the other horses to +get completely out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Several times Flo waited for Carley to catch up. “He’s loafing on +you, Carley. You ought to have on a spur. Break off a switch and beat him +some.” Then she whipped the mustang across the flank with her bridle +rein, which punishment caused Spillbeans meekly to trot on with alacrity. +Carley had a positive belief that he would not do it for her. And after +Flo’s repeated efforts, assisted by chastisement from Glenn, had kept +Spillbeans in a trot for a couple of miles Carley began to discover that the +trotting of a horse was the most uncomfortable motion possible to imagine. It +grew worse. It became painful. It gradually got unendurable. But pride made +Carley endure it until suddenly she thought she had been stabbed in the side. +This strange piercing pain must be what Glenn had called a “stitch” +in the side, something common to novices on horseback. Carley could have +screamed. She pulled the mustang to a walk and sagged in her saddle until the +pain subsided. What a blessed relief! Carley had keen sense of the difference +between riding in Central Park and in Arizona. She regretted her choice of +horses. Spillbeans was attractive to look at, but the pleasure of riding him +was a delusion. Flo had said his gait resembled the motion of a rocking chair. +This Western girl, according to Charley, the sheep herder, was not above +playing Arizona jokes. Be that as it might, Spillbeans now manifested a desire +to remain with the other horses, and he broke out of a walk into a trot. Carley +could not keep him from trotting. Hence her state soon wore into acute +distress. +</p> + +<p> +Her left ankle seemed broken. The stirrup was heavy, and as soon as she was +tired she could no longer keep its weight from drawing her foot in. The inside +of her right knee was as sore as a boil. Besides, she had other pains, just as +severe, and she stood momentarily in mortal dread of that terrible stitch in +her side. If it returned she knew she would fall off. But, fortunately, just +when she was growing weak and dizzy, the horses ahead slowed to a walk on a +descent. The road wound down into a wide deep canyon. Carley had a respite from +her severest pains. Never before had she known what it meant to be so grateful +for relief from anything. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon grew far advanced and the sunset was hazily shrouded in gray. +Hutter did not like the looks of those clouds. “Reckon we’re in for +weather,” he said. Carley did not care what happened. Weather or anything +else that might make it possible to get off her horse! Glenn rode beside her, +inquiring solicitously as to her pleasure. “Ride of my life!” she +lied heroically. And it helped some to see that she both fooled and pleased +him. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the canyon the cedared desert heaved higher and changed its aspect. The +trees grew larger, bushier, greener, and closer together, with patches of +bleached grass between, and russet-lichened rocks everywhere. Small cactus +plants bristled sparsely in open places; and here and there bright red +flowers—Indian paintbrush, Flo called them—added a touch of color +to the gray. Glenn pointed to where dark banks of cloud had massed around the +mountain peaks. The scene to the west was somber and compelling. +</p> + +<p> +At last the men and the pack-horses ahead came to a halt in a level green +forestland with no high trees. Far ahead a chain of soft gray round hills led +up to the dark heaved mass of mountains. Carley saw the gleam of water through +the trees. Probably her mustang saw or scented it, because he started to trot. +Carley had reached a limit of strength, endurance, and patience. She hauled him +up short. When Spillbeans evinced a stubborn intention to go on Carley gave him +a kick. Then it happened. +</p> + +<p> +She felt the reins jerked out of her hands and the saddle propel her upward. +When she descended it was to meet that before-experienced jolt. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” cried Flo. “That bronc is going to pitch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on, Carley!” yelled Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +Desperately Carley essayed to do just that. But Spillbeans jolted her out of +the saddle. She came down on his rump and began to slide back and down. +Frightened and furious, Carley tried to hang to the saddle with her hands and +to squeeze the mustang with her knees. But another jolt broke her hold, and +then, helpless and bewildered, with her heart in her throat and a terrible +sensation of weakness, she slid back at each upheave of the muscular rump until +she slid off and to the ground in a heap. Whereupon Spillbeans trotted off +toward the water. +</p> + +<p> +Carley sat up before Glenn and Flo reached her. Manifestly they were concerned +about her, but both were ready to burst with laughter. Carley knew she was not +hurt and she was so glad to be off the mustang that, on the moment, she could +almost have laughed herself. +</p> + +<p> +“That beast is well named,” she said. “He spilled me, all +right. And I presume I resembled a sack of beans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley—you’re—not hurt?” asked Glenn, choking, +as he helped her up. +</p> + +<p> +“Not physically. But my feelings are.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Glenn let out a hearty howl of mirth, which was seconded by a loud guffaw +from Hutter. Flo, however, appeared to be able to restrain whatever she felt. +To Carley she looked queer. +</p> + +<p> +“Pitch! You called it that,” said Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he didn’t really pitch. He just humped up a few times,” +replied Flo, and then when she saw how Carley was going to take it she burst +into a merry peal of laughter. Charley, the sheep herder was grinning, and some +of the other men turned away with shaking shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Laugh, you wild and woolly Westerners!” ejaculated Carley. +“It must have been funny. I hope I can be a good sport.... But I bet you +I ride him tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shore you will,” replied Flo. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently the little incident drew the party closer together. Carley felt a +warmth of good nature that overcame her first feeling of humiliation. They +expected such things from her, and she should expect them, too, and take them, +if not fearlessly or painlessly, at least without resentment. +</p> + +<p> +Carley walked about to ease her swollen and sore joints, and while doing so she +took stock of the camp ground and what was going on. At second glance the place +had a certain attraction difficult for her to define. She could see far, and +the view north toward those strange gray-colored symmetrical hills was one that +fascinated while it repelled her. Near at hand the ground sloped down to a +large rock-bound lake, perhaps a mile in circumference. In the distance, along +the shore she saw a white conical tent, and blue smoke, and moving gray objects +she took for sheep. +</p> + +<p> +The men unpacked and unsaddled the horses, and, hobbling their forefeet +together, turned them loose. Twilight had fallen and each man appeared to be +briskly set upon his own task. Glenn was cutting around the foot of a thickly +branched cedar where, he told Carley, he would make a bed for her and Flo. All +that Carley could see that could be used for such purpose was a canvas-covered +roll. Presently Glenn untied a rope from round this, unrolled it, and dragged +it under the cedar. Then he spread down the outer layer of canvas, disclosing a +considerable thickness of blankets. From under the top of these he pulled out +two flat little pillows. These he placed in position, and turned back some of +the blankets. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you crawl in here, pile the blankets up, and the tarp over +them,” directed Glenn. “If it rains pull the tarp up over your +head—and let it rain.” +</p> + +<p> +This direction sounded in Glenn’s cheery voice a good deal more +pleasurable than the possibilities suggested. Surely that cedar tree could not +keep off rain or snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, how about—about animals—and crawling things, you +know?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there are a few tarantulas and centipedes, and sometimes a scorpion. +But these don’t crawl around much at night. The only thing to worry about +are the hydrophobia skunks.” +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth are they?” asked Carley, quite aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“Skunks are polecats, you know,” replied Glenn, cheerfully. +“Sometimes one gets bitten by a coyote that has rabies, and then +he’s a dangerous customer. He has no fear and he may run across you and +bite you in the face. Queer how they generally bite your nose. Two men have +been bitten since I’ve been here. One of them died, and the other had to +go to the Pasteur Institute with a well-developed case of hydrophobia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” cried Carley, horrified. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t be afraid,” said Glenn. “I’ll tie +one of the dogs near your bed.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley wondered whether Glenn’s casual, easy tone had been adopted for +her benefit or was merely an assimilation from this Western life. Not +improbably Glenn himself might be capable of playing a trick on her. Carley +endeavored to fortify herself against disaster, so that when it befell she +might not be wholly ludicrous. +</p> + +<p> +With the coming of twilight a cold, keen wind moaned through the cedars. Carley +would have hovered close to the fire even if she had not been too tired to +exert herself. Despite her aches, she did justice to the supper. It amazed her +that appetite consumed her to the extent of overcoming a distaste for this +strong, coarse cooking. Before the meal ended darkness had fallen, a windy raw +darkness that enveloped heavily like a blanket. Presently Carley edged closer +to the fire, and there she stayed, alternately turning back and front to the +welcome heat. She seemingly roasted hands, face, and knees while her back +froze. The wind blew the smoke in all directions. When she groped around with +blurred, smarting eyes to escape the hot smoke, it followed her. The other +members of the party sat comfortably on sacks or rocks, without much notice of +the smoke that so exasperated Carley. Twice Glenn insisted that she take a seat +he had fixed for her, but she preferred to stand and move around a little. +</p> + +<p> +By and by the camp tasks of the men appeared to be ended, and all gathered near +the fire to lounge and smoke and talk. Glenn and Hutter engaged in interested +conversation with two Mexicans, evidently sheep herders. If the wind and cold +had not made Carley so uncomfortable she might have found the scene +picturesque. How black the night! She could scarcely distinguish the sky at +all. The cedar branches swished in the wind, and from the gloom came a low +sound of waves lapping a rocky shore. Presently Glenn held up a hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Carley!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then she heard strange wild yelps, staccato, piercing, somehow infinitely +lonely. They made her shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“Coyotes,” said Glenn. “You’ll come to love that +chorus. Hear the dogs bark back.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley listened with interest, but she was inclined to doubt that she would +ever become enamoured of such wild cries. +</p> + +<p> +“Do coyotes come near camp?” she queried. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore. Sometimes they pull your pillow out from under your head,” +replied Flo, laconically. +</p> + +<p> +Carley did not ask any more questions. Natural history was not her favorite +study and she was sure she could dispense with any first-hand knowledge of +desert beasts. She thought, however, she heard one of the men say, “Big +varmint prowlin’ round the sheep.” To which Hutter replied, +“Reckon it was a bear.” And Glenn said, “I saw his fresh +track by the lake. Some bear!” +</p> + +<p> +The heat from the fire made Carley so drowsy that she could scarcely hold up +her head. She longed for bed even if it was out there in the open. Presently +Flo called her: “Come. Let’s walk a little before turning +in.” +</p> + +<p> +So Carley permitted herself to be led to and fro down an open aisle between +some cedars. The far end of that aisle, dark, gloomy, with the bushy secretive +cedars all around, caused Carley apprehension she was ashamed to admit. Flo +talked eloquently about the joys of camp life, and how the harder any outdoor +task was and the more endurance and pain it required, the more pride and +pleasure one had in remembering it. Carley was weighing the import of these +words when suddenly Flo clutched her arm. “What’s that?” she +whispered, tensely. +</p> + +<p> +Carley stood stockstill. They had reached the furthermost end of that aisle, +but had turned to go back. The flare of the camp fire threw a wan light into +the shadows before them. There came a rustling in the brush, a snapping of +twigs. Cold tremors chased up and down Carley’s back. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore it’s a varmint, all right. Let’s hurry,” +whispered Flo. +</p> + +<p> +Carley needed no urging. It appeared that Flo was not going to run. She walked +fast, peering back over her shoulder, and, hanging to Carley’s arm, she +rounded a large cedar that had obstructed some of the firelight. The gloom was +not so thick here. And on the instant Carley espied a low, moving object, +somehow furry, and gray in color. She gasped. She could not speak. Her heart +gave a mighty throb and seemed to stop. +</p> + +<p> +“What—do you see?” cried Flo, sharply, peering ahead. +“Oh!... Come, Carley. <i>Run!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Flo’s cry showed she must nearly be strangled with terror. But Carley was +frozen in her tracks. Her eyes were riveted upon the gray furry object. It +stopped. Then it came faster. It magnified. It was a huge beast. Carley had no +control over mind, heart, voice, or muscle. Her legs gave way. She was sinking. +A terrible panic, icy, sickening, rending, possessed her whole body. +</p> + +<p> +The huge gray thing came at her. Into the rushing of her ears broke thudding +sounds. The thing leaped up. A horrible petrifaction suddenly made stone of +Carley. Then she saw a gray mantlelike object cast aside to disclose the dark +form of a man. Glenn! +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, dog-gone it! You don’t scare worth a cent,” he +laughingly complained. +</p> + +<p> +She collapsed into his arms. The liberating shock was as great as had been her +terror. She began to tremble violently. Her hands got back a sense of strength +to clutch. Heart and blood seemed released from that ice-banded vise. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, I believe you were scared,” went on Glenn, bending over her. +</p> + +<p> +“Scar-ed!” she gasped. “Oh—there’s no +word—to tell—what I was!” +</p> + +<p> +Flo came running back, giggling with joy. “Glenn, she shore took you for +a bear. Why, I felt her go stiff as a post!... Ha! Ha! Ha! Carley, now how do +you like the wild and woolly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! You put up a trick on me!” ejaculated Carley. “Glenn, +how could you? ... Such a terrible trick! I wouldn’t have minded +something reasonable. But that! Oh, I’ll never forgive you!” +</p> + +<p> +Glenn showed remorse, and kissed her before Flo in a way that made some little +amends. “Maybe I overdid it,” he said. “But I thought +you’d have a momentary start, you know, enough to make you yell, and then +you’d see through it. I only had a sheepskin over my shoulders as I +crawled on hands and knees.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, for me you were a prehistoric monster—a dinosaur, or +something,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +It developed, upon their return to the campfire circle, that everybody had been +in the joke; and they all derived hearty enjoyment from it. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon that makes you one of us,” said Hutter, genially. +“We’ve all had our scares.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley wondered if she were not so constituted that such trickery alienated +her. Deep in her heart she resented being made to show her cowardice. But then +she realized that no one had really seen any evidence of her state. It was fun +to them. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after this incident Hutter sounded what he called the roll-call for bed. +Following Flo’s instructions, Carley sat on their bed, pulled off her +boots, folded coat and sweater at her head, and slid down under the blankets. +How strange and hard a bed! Yet Carley had the most delicious sense of relief +and rest she had ever experienced. She straightened out on her back with a +feeling that she had never before appreciated the luxury of lying down. +</p> + +<p> +Flo cuddled up to her in quite sisterly fashion, saying: “Now don’t +cover your head. If it rains I’ll wake and pull up the tarp. Good night, +Carley.” And almost immediately she seemed to fall asleep. +</p> + +<p> +For Carley, however, sleep did not soon come. She had too many aches; the +aftermath of her shock of fright abided with her; and the blackness of night, +the cold whip of wind over her face, and the unprotected helplessness she felt +in this novel bed, were too entirely new and disturbing to be overcome at once. +So she lay wide eyed, staring at the dense gray shadow, at the flickering +lights upon the cedar. At length her mind formed a conclusion that this sort of +thing might be worth the hardship once in a lifetime, anyway. What a concession +to Glenn’s West! In the secret seclusion of her mind she had to confess +that if her vanity had not been so assaulted and humiliated she might have +enjoyed herself more. It seemed impossible, however, to have thrills and +pleasures and exaltations in the face of discomfort, privation, and an uneasy +half-acknowledged fear. No woman could have either a good or a profitable time +when she was at her worst. Carley thought she would not be averse to getting +Flo Hutter to New York, into an atmosphere wholly strange and difficult, and +see how she met situation after situation unfamiliar to her. And so +Carley’s mind drifted on until at last she succumbed to drowsiness. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +A voice pierced her dreams of home, of warmth and comfort. Something sharp, +cold, and fragrant was scratching her eyes. She opened them. Glenn stood over +her, pushing a sprig of cedar into her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, the day is far spent,” he said, gayly. “We want to +roll up your bedding. Will you get out of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Glenn! What time is it?” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nearly six.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!... Do you expect me to get up at that ungodly hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re all up. Flo’s eating breakfast. It’s going to be +a bad day, I’m afraid. And we want to get packed and moving before it +starts to rain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do girls leave home?” she asked, tragically. +</p> + +<p> +“To make poor devils happy, of course,” he replied, smiling down +upon her. +</p> + +<p> +That smile made up to Carley for all the clamoring sensations of stiff, sore +muscles. It made her ashamed that she could not fling herself into this +adventure with all her heart. Carley essayed to sit up. “Oh, I’m +afraid my anatomy has become disconnected!... Glenn, do I look a sight?” +She never would have asked him that if she had not known she could bear +inspection at such an inopportune moment. +</p> + +<p> +“You look great,” he asserted, heartily. “You’ve got +color. And as for your hair—I like to see it mussed that way. You were +always one to have it dressed—just so.... Come, Carley, rustle +now.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, Carley did her best under adverse circumstances. And she was +gritting her teeth and complimenting herself when she arrived at the task of +pulling on her boots. They were damp and her feet appeared to have swollen. +Moreover, her ankles were sore. But she accomplished getting into them at the +expense of much pain and sundry utterances more forcible than elegant. Glenn +brought her warm water, a mitigating circumstance. The morning was cold and +thought of that biting desert water had been trying. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore you’re doing fine,” was Flo’s greeting. +“Come and get it before we throw it out.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley made haste to comply with the Western mandate, and was once again +confronted with the singular fact that appetite did not wait upon the troubles +of a tenderfoot. Glenn remarked that at least she would not starve to death on +the trip. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, climb the ridge with me,” he invited. “I want you to +take a look to the north and east.” +</p> + +<p> +He led her off through the cedars, up a slow red-earth slope, away from the +lake. A green moundlike eminence topped with flat red rock appeared near at +hand and not at all a hard climb. Nevertheless, her eyes deceived her, as she +found to the cost of her breath. It was both far away and high. +</p> + +<p> +“I like this location,” said Glenn. “If I had the money +I’d buy this section of land—six hundred and forty acres—and +make a ranch of it. Just under this bluff is a fine open flat bench for a +cabin. You could see away across the desert clear to Sunset Peak. There’s +a good spring of granite water. I’d run water from the lake down into the +lower flats, and I’d sure raise some stock.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call this place?” asked Carley, curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Deep Lake. It’s only a watering place for sheep and cattle. But +there’s fine grazing, and it’s a wonder to me no one has ever +settled here.” +</p> + +<p> +Looking down, Carley appreciated his wish to own the place; and immediately +there followed in her a desire to get possession of this tract of land before +anyone else discovered its advantages, and to hold it for Glenn. But this would +surely conflict with her intention of persuading Glenn to go back East. As +quickly as her impulse had been born it died. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the scene gripped Carley. She looked from near to far, trying to grasp +the illusive something. Wild lonely Arizona land! She saw ragged dumpy cedars +of gray and green, lines of red earth, and a round space of water, gleaming +pale under the lowering clouds; and in the distance isolated hills, strangely +curved, wandering away to a black uplift of earth obscured in the sky. +</p> + +<p> +These appeared to be mere steps leading her sight farther and higher to the +cloud-navigated sky, where rosy and golden effulgence betokened the sun and the +east. Carley held her breath. A transformation was going on before her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, it’s a stormy sunrise,” said Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +His words explained, but they did not convince. Was this sudden-bursting glory +only the sun rising behind storm clouds? She could see the clouds moving while +they were being colored. The universal gray surrendered under some magic paint +brush. The rifts widened, and the gloom of the pale-gray world seemed to +vanish. Beyond the billowy, rolling, creamy edges of clouds, white and pink, +shone the soft exquisite fresh blue sky. And a blaze of fire, a burst of molten +gold, sheered up from behind the rim of cloud and suddenly poured a sea of +sunlight from east to west. It transfigured the round foothills. They seemed +bathed in ethereal light, and the silver mists that overhung them faded while +Carley gazed, and a rosy flush crowned the symmetrical domes. Southward along +the horizon line, down-dropping veils of rain, just touched with the sunrise +tint, streamed in drifting slow movement from cloud to earth. To the north the +range of foothills lifted toward the majestic dome of Sunset Peak, a volcanic +upheaval of red and purple cinders, bare as rock, round as the lower hills, and +wonderful in its color. Full in the blaze of the rising sun it flaunted an +unchangeable front. Carley understood now what had been told her about this +peak. Volcanic fires had thrown up a colossal mound of cinders burned forever +to the hues of the setting sun. In every light and shade of day it held true to +its name. Farther north rose the bold bulk of the San Francisco Peaks, that, +half lost in the clouds, still dominated the desert scene. Then as Carley gazed +the rifts began to close. Another transformation began, the reverse of what she +watched. The golden radiance of sunrise vanished, and under a gray, lowering, +coalescing pall of cloud the round hills returned to their bleak somberness, +and the green desert took again its cold sheen. +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t it fine, Carley?” asked Glenn. “But nothing to +what you will experience. I hope you stay till the weather gets warm. I want +you to see a summer dawn on the Painted Desert, and a noon with the great white +clouds rolling up from the horizon, and a sunset of massed purple and gold. If +<i>they</i> do not get you then I’ll give up.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley murmured something of her appreciation of what she had just seen. Part +of his remark hung on her ear, thought-provoking and disturbing. He hoped she +would stay until summer! That was kind of him. But her visit must be short and +she now intended it to end with his return East with her. If she did not +persuade him to go he might not want to go for a while, as he had +written—“just yet.” Carley grew troubled in mind. Such mental +disturbance, however, lasted no longer than her return with Glenn to camp, +where the mustang Spillbeans stood ready for her to mount. He appeared to put +one ear up, the other down, and to look at her with mild surprise, as if to +say: “What—hello—tenderfoot! Are you going to ride me +again?” +</p> + +<p> +Carley recalled that she had avowed she would ride him. There was no +alternative, and her misgivings only made matters worse. Nevertheless, once in +the saddle, she imagined she had the hallucination that to ride off so, with +the long open miles ahead, was really thrilling. This remarkable state of mind +lasted until Spillbeans began to trot, and then another day of misery beckoned +to Carley with gray stretches of distance. +</p> + +<p> +She was to learn that misery, as well as bliss, can swallow up the hours. She +saw the monotony of cedar trees, but with blurred eyes; she saw the ground +clearly enough, for she was always looking down, hoping for sandy places or +rocky places where her mustang could not trot. +</p> + +<p> +At noon the cavalcade ahead halted near a cabin and corral, which turned out to +be a sheep ranch belonging to Hutter. Here Glenn was so busy that he had no +time to devote to Carley. And Flo, who was more at home on a horse than on the +ground, rode around everywhere with the men. Most assuredly Carley could not +pass by the chance to get off Spillbeans and to walk a little. She found, +however, that what she wanted most was to rest. The cabin was deserted, a dark, +damp place with a rank odor. She did not stay long inside. +</p> + +<p> +Rain and snow began to fall, adding to what Carley felt to be a disagreeable +prospect. The immediate present, however, was cheered by a cup of hot soup and +some bread and butter which the herder Charley brought her. By and by Glenn and +Hutter returned with Flo, and all partook of some lunch. +</p> + +<p> +All too soon Carley found herself astride the mustang again. Glenn helped her +don the slicker, an abominable sticky rubber coat that bundled her up and +tangled her feet round the stirrups. She was glad to find, though, that it +served well indeed to protect her from raw wind and rain. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do we go from here?” Carley inquired, ironically. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn laughed in a way which proved to Carley that he knew perfectly well how +she felt. Again his smile caused her self-reproach. Plain indeed was it that he +had really expected more of her in the way of complaint and less of fortitude. +Carley bit her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Thus began the afternoon ride. As it advanced the sky grew more threatening, +the wind rawer, the cold keener, and the rain cut like little bits of sharp +ice. It blew in Carley’s face. Enough snow fell to whiten the open +patches of ground. In an hour Carley realized that she had the hardest task of +her life to ride to the end of the day’s journey. No one could have +guessed her plight. Glenn complimented her upon her adaptation to such +unpleasant conditions. Flo evidently was on the lookout for the +tenderfoot’s troubles. But as Spillbeans, had taken to lagging at a walk, +Carley was enabled to conceal all outward sign of her woes. It rained, hailed, +sleeted, snowed, and grew colder all the time. Carley’s feet became lumps +of ice. Every step the mustang took sent acute pains ramifying from bruised and +raw places all over her body. +</p> + +<p> +Once, finding herself behind the others and out of sight in the cedars, she got +off to walk awhile, leading the mustang. This would not do, however, because +she fell too far in the rear. Mounting again, she rode on, beginning to feel +that nothing mattered, that this trip would be the end of Carley Burch. How she +hated that dreary, cold, flat land the road bisected without end. It felt as if +she rode hours to cover a mile. In open stretches she saw the whole party +straggling along, separated from one another, and each for himself. They +certainly could not be enjoying themselves. Carley shut her eyes, clutched the +pommel of the saddle, trying to support her weight. How could she endure +another mile? Alas! there might be many miles. Suddenly a terrible shock seemed +to rack her. But it was only that Spillbeans had once again taken to a trot. +Frantically she pulled on the bridle. He was not to be thwarted. Opening her +eyes, she saw a cabin far ahead which probably was the destination for the +night. Carley knew she would never reach it, yet she clung on desperately. What +she dreaded was the return of that stablike pain in her side. It came, and life +seemed something abject and monstrous. She rode stiff legged, with her hands +propping her stiffly above the pommel, but the stabbing pain went right on, and +in deeper. When the mustang halted his trot beside the other horses Carley was +in the last extremity. Yet as Glenn came to her, offering a hand, she still hid +her agony. Then Flo called out gayly: “Carley, you’ve done +twenty-five miles on as rotten a day as I remember. Shore we all hand it to +you. And I’m confessing I didn’t think you’d ever stay the +ride out. Spillbeans is the meanest nag we’ve got and he has the hardest +gait.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +Later Carley leaned back in a comfortable seat, before a blazing fire that +happily sent its acrid smoke up the chimney, pondering ideas in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +There could be a relation to familiar things that was astounding in its +revelation. To get off a horse that had tortured her, to discover an almost +insatiable appetite, to rest weary, aching body before the genial warmth of a +beautiful fire—these were experiences which Carley found to have been +hitherto unknown delights. It struck her suddenly and strangely that to know +the real truth about anything in life might require infinite experience and +understanding. How could one feel immense gratitude and relief, or the delight +of satisfying acute hunger, or the sweet comfort of rest, unless there had been +circumstances of extreme contrast? She had been compelled to suffer cruelly on +horseback in order to make her appreciate how good it was to get down on the +ground. Otherwise she never would have known. She wondered, then, how true that +principle might be in all experience. It gave strong food for thought. There +were things in the world never before dreamed of in her philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +Carley was wondering if she were narrow and dense to circumstances of life +differing from her own when a remark of Flo’s gave pause to her +reflections. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore the worst is yet to come.” Flo had drawled. +</p> + +<p> +Carley wondered if this distressing statement had to do in some way with the +rest of the trip. She stifled her curiosity. Painful knowledge of that sort +would come quickly enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, are you girls going to sleep here in the cabin?” inquired +Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore. It’s cold and wet outside,” replied Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Felix, the Mexican herder, told me some Navajos had been bunking +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Navajos? You mean Indians?” interposed Carley, with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore do,” said Flo. “I knew that. But don’t mind +Glenn. He’s full of tricks, Carley. He’d give us a hunch to lie out +in the wet.” +</p> + +<p> +Hutter burst into his hearty laugh. “Wal, I’d rather get some +things any day than a bad cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I’ve had both,” replied Flo, in her easy drawl, +“and I’d prefer the cold. But for Carley’s sake—” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray don’t consider me,” said Carley. The rather crude drift +of the conversation affronted her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear,” put in Glenn, “it’s a bad night +outside. We’ll all make our beds here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, you shore are a nervy fellow,” drawled Flo. +</p> + +<p> +Long after everybody was in bed Carley lay awake in the blackness of the cabin, +sensitively fidgeting and quivering over imaginative contact with creeping +things. The fire had died out. A cold air passed through the room. On the roof +pattered gusts of rain. Carley heard a rustling of mice. It did not seem +possible that she could keep awake, yet she strove to do so. But her pangs of +body, her extreme fatigue soon yielded to the quiet and rest of her bed, +engendering a drowsiness that proved irresistible. +</p> + +<p> +Morning brought fair weather and sunshine, which helped to sustain Carley in +her effort to brave out her pains and woes. Another disagreeable day would have +forced her to humiliating defeat. Fortunately for her, the business of the men +was concerned with the immediate neighborhood, in which they expected to stay +all morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, after a while persuade Carley to ride with you to the top of this +first foothill,” said Glenn. “It’s not far, and it’s +worth a good deal to see the Painted Desert from there. The day is clear and +the air free from dust.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shore. Leave it to me. I want to get out of camp, anyhow. That conceited +<i>hombre</i>, Lee Stanton, will be riding in here,” answered Flo, +laconically. +</p> + +<p> +The slight knowing smile on Glenn’s face and the grinning disbelief on +Mr. Hutter’s were facts not lost upon Carley. And when Charley, the +herder, deliberately winked at Carley, she conceived the idea that Flo, like +many women, only ran off to be pursued. In some manner Carley did not seek to +analyze, the purported advent of this Lee Stanton pleased her. But she did +admit to her consciousness that women, herself included, were both as deep and +mysterious as the sea, yet as transparent as an inch of crystal water. +</p> + +<p> +It happened that the expected newcomer rode into camp before anyone left. +Before he dismounted he made a good impression on Carley, and as he stepped +down in lazy, graceful action, a tall lithe figure, she thought him singularly +handsome. He wore black sombrero, flannel shirt, blue jeans stuffed into high +boots, and long, big-roweled spurs. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you-all?” was his greeting. +</p> + +<p> +From the talk that ensued between him and the men, Carley concluded that he +must be overseer of the sheep hands. Carley knew that Hutter and Glenn were not +interested in cattle raising. And in fact they were, especially Hutter, +somewhat inimical to the dominance of the range land by cattle barons of +Flagstaff. +</p> + +<p> +“When’s Ryan goin’ to dip?” asked Hutter. +</p> + +<p> +“Today or tomorrow,” replied Stanton. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon we ought to ride over,” went on Hutter. “Say, Glenn, +do you reckon Miss Carley could stand a sheep-dip?” +</p> + +<p> +This was spoken in a low tone, scarcely intended for Carley, but she had keen +ears and heard distinctly. Not improbably this sheep-dip was what Flo meant as +the worst to come. Carley adopted a listless posture to hide her keen desire to +hear what Glenn would reply to Hutter. +</p> + +<p> +“I should say not!” whispered Glenn, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Cut out that talk. She’ll hear you and want to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Carley felt mount in her breast an intense and rebellious +determination to see a sheep-dip. She would astonish Glenn. What did he want, +anyway? Had she not withstood the torturing trot of the hardest-gaited horse on +the range? Carley realized she was going to place considerable store upon that +feat. It grew on her. +</p> + +<p> +When the consultation of the men ended, Lee Stanton turned to Flo. And Carley +did not need to see the young man look twice to divine what ailed him. He was +caught in the toils of love. But seeing through Flo Hutter was entirely another +matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Howdy, Lee!” she said, coolly, with her clear eyes on him. A tiny +frown knitted her brow. She did not, at the moment, entirely approve of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore am glad to see you, Flo,” he said, with rather a heavy +expulsion of breath. He wore a cheerful grin that in no wise deceived Flo, or +Carley either. The young man had a furtive expression of eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Ahuh!” returned Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“I was shore sorry about—about that—” he floundered, in +low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“About what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aw, you know, Flo.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley strolled out of hearing, sure of two things—that she felt rather +sorry for Stanton, and that his course of love did not augur well for smooth +running. What queer creatures were women! Carley had seen several million +coquettes, she believed; and assuredly Flo Hutter belonged to the species. +</p> + +<p> +Upon Carley’s return to the cabin she found Stanton and Flo waiting for +her to accompany them on a ride up the foothill. She was so stiff and sore that +she could hardly mount into the saddle; and the first mile of riding was +something like a nightmare. She lagged behind Flo and Stanton, who apparently +forgot her in their quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +The riders soon struck the base of a long incline of rocky ground that led up +to the slope of the foothill. Here rocks and gravel gave place to black cinders +out of which grew a scant bleached grass. This desert verdure was what lent the +soft gray shade to the foothill when seen from a distance. The slope was +gentle, so that the ascent did not entail any hardship. Carley was amazed at +the length of the slope, and also to see how high over the desert she was +getting. She felt lifted out of a monotonous level. A green-gray league-long +cedar forest extended down toward Oak Creek. Behind her the magnificent bulk of +the mountains reached up into the stormy clouds, showing white slopes of snow +under the gray pall. +</p> + +<p> +The hoofs of the horses sank in the cinders. A fine choking dust assailed +Carley’s nostrils. Presently, when there appeared at least a third of the +ascent still to be accomplished and Flo dismounted to walk, leading their +horses. Carley had no choice but to do likewise. At first walking was a relief. +Soon, however, the soft yielding cinders began to drag at her feet. At every +step she slipped back a few inches, a very annoying feature of climbing. When +her legs seemed to grow dead Carley paused for a little rest. The last of the +ascent, over a few hundred yards of looser cinders, taxed her remaining +strength to the limit. She grew hot and wet and out of breath. Her heart +labored. An unreasonable antipathy seemed to attend her efforts. Only her +ridiculous vanity held her to this task. She wanted to please Glenn, but not so +earnestly that she would have kept on plodding up this ghastly bare mound of +cinders. Carley did not mind being a tenderfoot, but she hated the thought of +these Westerners considering her a weakling. So she bore the pain of raw +blisters and the miserable sensation of staggering on under a leaden weight. +</p> + +<p> +Several times she noted that Flo and Stanton halted to face each other in +rather heated argument. At least Stanton’s red face and forceful gestures +attested to heat on his part. Flo evidently was weary of argument, and in +answer to a sharp reproach she retorted, “Shore I was different after he +came.” To which Stanton responded by a quick passionate shrinking as if +he had been stung. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had her own reaction to this speech she could not help hearing; and +inwardly, at least, her feeling must have been similar to Stanton’s. She +forgot the object of this climb and looked off to her right at the green level +without really seeing it. A vague sadness weighed upon her soul. Was there to +be a tangle of fates here, a conflict of wills, a crossing of loves? +Flo’s terse confession could not be taken lightly. Did she mean that she +loved Glenn? Carley began to fear it. Only another reason why she must persuade +Glenn to go back East! But the closer Carley came to what she divined must be +an ordeal the more she dreaded it. This raw, crude West might have confronted +her with a situation beyond her control. And as she dragged her weighted feet +through the cinders, kicking, up little puffs of black dust, she felt what she +admitted to be an unreasonable resentment toward these Westerners and their +barren, isolated, and boundless world. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley,” called Flo, “come—looksee, as the Indians +say. Here is Glenn’s Painted Desert, and I reckon it’s shore worth +seeing.” +</p> + +<p> +To Carley’s surprise, she found herself upon the knob of the foothill. +And when she looked out across a suddenly distinguishable void she seemed +struck by the immensity of something she was unable to grasp. She dropped her +bridle; she gazed slowly, as if drawn, hearing Flo’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“That thin green line of cottonwoods down there is the Little Colorado +River,” Flo was saying. “Reckon it’s sixty miles, all down +hill. The Painted Desert begins there and also the Navajo Reservation. You see +the white strips, the red veins, the yellow bars, the black lines. They are all +desert steps leading up and up for miles. That sharp black peak is called +Wildcat. It’s about a hundred miles. You see the desert stretching away +to the right, growing dim—lost in distance? We don’t know that +country. But that north country we know as landmarks, anyway. Look at that +saw-tooth range. The Indians call it Echo Cliffs. At the far end it drops off +into the Colorado River. Lee’s Ferry is there—about one hundred and +sixty miles. That ragged black rent is the Grand Canyon. Looks like a thread, +doesn’t it? But Carley, it’s some hole, believe me. Away to the +left you see the tremendous wall rising and turning to come this way. +That’s the north wall of the Canyon. It ends at the great +bluff—Greenland Point. See the black fringe above the bar of gold. +That’s a belt of pine trees. It’s about eighty miles across this +ragged old stone washboard of a desert. ... Now turn and look straight and +strain your sight over Wildcat. See the rim purple dome. You must look hard. +I’m glad it’s clear and the sun is shining. We don’t often +get this view.... That purple dome is Navajo Mountain, two hundred miles and +more away!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley yielded to some strange drawing power and slowly walked forward until +she stood at the extreme edge of the summit. +</p> + +<p> +What was it that confounded her sight? Desert slope—down and +down—color—distance—space! The wind that blew in her face +seemed to have the openness of the whole world back of it. Cold, sweet, dry, +exhilarating, it breathed of untainted vastness. Carley’s memory pictures +of the Adirondacks faded into pastorals; her vaunted images of European scenery +changed to operetta settings. She had nothing with which to compare this +illimitable space. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!—America!” was her unconscious tribute. +</p> + +<p> +Stanton and Flo had come on to places beside her. The young man laughed. +“Wal, now Miss Carley, you couldn’t say more. When I was in camp +trainin’ for service overseas I used to remember how this looked. +An’ it seemed one of the things I was goin’ to fight for. Reckon I +didn’t the idea of the Germans havin’ my Painted Desert. I +didn’t get across to fight for it, but I shore was willin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Carley, this is our America,” said Flo, softly. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had never understood the meaning of the word. The immensity of the West +seemed flung at her. What her vision beheld, so far-reaching and boundless, was +only a dot on the map. +</p> + +<p> +“Does any one live—out there?” she asked, with slow sweep of +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“A few white traders and some Indian tribes,” replied Stanton. +“But you can ride all day an’ next day an’ never see a +livin’ soul.” +</p> + +<p> +What was the meaning of the gratification in his voice? Did Westerners court +loneliness? Carley wrenched her gaze from the desert void to look at her +companions. Stanton’s eyes were narrowed; his expression had changed; +lean and hard and still, his face resembled bronze. The careless humor was +gone, as was the heated flush of his quarrel with Flo. The girl, too, had +subtly changed, had responded to an influence that had subdued and softened +her. She was mute; her eyes held a light, comprehensive and all-embracing; she +was beautiful then. For Carley, quick to read emotion, caught a glimpse of a +strong, steadfast soul that spiritualized the brown freckled face. +</p> + +<p> +Carley wheeled to gaze out and down into this incomprehensible abyss, and on to +the far up-flung heights, white and red and yellow, and so on to the wonderful +mystic haze of distance. The significance of Flo’s designation of miles +could not be grasped by Carley. She could not estimate distance. But she did +not need that to realize her perceptions were swallowed up by magnitude. +Hitherto the power of her eyes had been unknown. How splendid to see afar! She +could see—yes—but what did she see? Space first, annihilating +space, dwarfing her preconceived images, and then wondrous colors! What had she +known of color? No wonder artists failed adequately and truly to paint +mountains, let alone the desert space. The toiling millions of the crowded +cities were ignorant of this terrible beauty and sublimity. Would it have +helped them to see? But just to breathe that untainted air, just to see once +the boundless open of colored sand and rock—to realize what the freedom +of eagles meant would not that have helped anyone? +</p> + +<p> +And with the thought there came to Carley’s quickened and struggling mind +a conception of freedom. She had not yet watched eagles, but she now gazed out +into their domain. What then must be the effect of such environment on people +whom it encompassed? The idea stunned Carley. Would such people grow in +proportion to the nature with which they were in conflict? Hereditary influence +could not be comparable to such environment in the shaping of character. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I could stand here all day,” said Flo. “But it’s +beginning to cloud over and this high wind is cold. So we’d better go, +Carley.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what I am, but it’s not cold,” replied +Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, Miss Carley, I reckon you’ll have to come again an’ +again before you get a comfortable feelin’ here,” said Stanton. +</p> + +<p> +It surprised Carley to see that this young Westerner had hit upon the truth. He +understood her. Indeed she was uncomfortable. She was oppressed, vaguely +unhappy. But why? The thing there—the infinitude of open sand and +rock—was beautiful, wonderful, even glorious. She looked again. +</p> + +<p> +Steep black-cindered slope, with its soft gray patches of grass, sheered down +and down, and out in rolling slope to merge upon a cedar-dotted level. Nothing +moved below, but a red-tailed hawk sailed across her vision. How +still—how gray the desert floor as it reached away, losing its black +dots, and gaining bronze spots of stone! By plain and prairie it fell away, +each inch of gray in her sight magnifying into its league-long roll. On and on, +and down across dark lines that were steppes, and at last blocked and changed +by the meandering green thread which was the verdure of a desert river. Beyond +stretched the white sand, where whirlwinds of dust sent aloft their +funnel-shaped spouts; and it led up to the horizon-wide ribs and ridges of red +and walls of yellow and mountains of black, to the dim mound of purple so +ethereal and mystic against the deep-blue cloud-curtained band of sky. +</p> + +<p> +And on the moment the sun was obscured and that world of colorful flame went +out, as if a blaze had died. +</p> + +<p> +Deprived of its fire, the desert seemed to retreat, to fade coldly and +gloomily, to lose its great landmarks in dim obscurity. Closer, around to the +north, the canyon country yawned with innumerable gray jaws, ragged and hard, +and the riven earth took on a different character. It had no shadows. It grew +flat and, like the sea, seemed to mirror the vast gray cloud expanse. The +sublime vanished, but the desolate remained. No warmth—no +movement—no life! Dead stone it was, cut into a million ruts by ruthless +ages. Carley felt that she was gazing down into chaos. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, as before, a hawk had crossed her vision, so now a raven sailed +by, black as coal, uttering a hoarse croak. +</p> + +<p> +“Quoth the raven—” murmured Carley, with a half-bitter laugh, +as she turned away shuddering in spite of an effort of self-control. +“Maybe he meant this wonderful and terrible West is never for such as +I.... Come, let us go.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Carley rode all that afternoon in the rear of the caravan, gradually succumbing +to the cold raw wind and the aches and pains to which she had subjected her +flesh. Nevertheless, she finished the day’s journey, and, sorely as she +needed Glenn’s kindly hand, she got off her horse without aid. +</p> + +<p> +Camp was made at the edge of the devastated timber zone that Carley had found +so dispiriting. A few melancholy pines were standing, and everywhere, as far as +she could see southward, were blackened fallen trees and stumps. It was a +dreary scene. The few cattle grazing on the bleached grass appeared as +melancholy as the pines. The sun shone fitfully at sunset, and then sank, +leaving the land to twilight and shadows. +</p> + +<p> +Once in a comfortable seat beside the camp fire, Carley had no further desire +to move. She was so far exhausted and weary that she could no longer appreciate +the blessing of rest. Appetite, too, failed her this meal time. Darkness soon +settled down. The wind moaned through the pines. She was indeed glad to crawl +into bed, and not even the thought of skunks could keep her awake. +</p> + +<p> +Morning disclosed the fact that gray clouds had been blown away. The sun shone +bright upon a white-frosted land. The air was still. Carley labored at her task +of rising, and brushing her hair, and pulling on her boots; and it appeared her +former sufferings were as naught compared with the pangs of this morning. How +she hated the cold, the bleak, denuded forest land, the emptiness, the +roughness, the crudeness! If this sort of feeling grew any worse she thought +she would hate Glenn. Yet she was nonetheless set upon going on, and seeing the +sheep-dip, and riding that fiendish mustang until the trip was ended. +</p> + +<p> +Getting in the saddle and on the way this morning was an ordeal that made +Carley actually sick. Glenn and Flo both saw how it was with her, and they left +her to herself. Carley was grateful for this understanding. It seemed to +proclaim their respect. She found further matter for satisfaction in the +astonishing circumstance that after the first dreadful quarter of an hour in +the saddle she began to feel easier. And at the end of several hours of riding +she was not suffering any particular pain, though she was weaker. +</p> + +<p> +At length the cut-over land ended in a forest of straggling pines, through +which the road wound southward, and eventually down into a wide shallow canyon. +Through the trees Carley saw a stream of water, open fields of green, log +fences and cabins, and blue smoke. She heard the chug of a gasoline engine and +the baa-baa of sheep. Glenn waited for her to catch up with him, and he said: +“Carley, this is one of Hutter’s sheep camps. It’s not +a—a very pleasant place. You won’t care to see the sheep-dip. So +I’m suggesting you wait here—” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing doing, Glenn,” she interrupted. “I’m going to +see what there is to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, dear—the men—the way they handle +sheep—they’ll—really it’s no sight for you,” he +floundered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” she inquired, eying him. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Carley—you know how you hate the—the seamy side of +things. And the stench—why, it’ll make you sick!” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, be on the level,” she said. “Suppose it does. +Wouldn’t you think more of me if I could stand it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” he replied, reluctantly, smiling at her, “I +would. But I wanted to spare you. This trip has been hard. I’m sure proud +of you. And, Carley—you can overdo it. Spunk is not everything. You +simply couldn’t stand this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, how little you know a woman!” she exclaimed. “Come +along and show me your old sheep-dip.” +</p> + +<p> +They rode out of the woods into an open valley that might have been picturesque +if it had not been despoiled by the work of man. A log fence ran along the edge +of open ground and a mud dam held back a pool of stagnant water, slimy and +green. As Carley rode on the baa-baa of sheep became so loud that she could +scarcely hear Glenn talking. +</p> + +<p> +Several log cabins, rough hewn and gray with age, stood down inside the +inclosure; and beyond there were large corrals. From the other side of these +corrals came sounds of rough voices of men, a trampling of hoofs, heavy +splashes, the beat of an engine, and the incessant baaing of the sheep. +</p> + +<p> +At this point the members of Hutter’s party dismounted and tied their +horses to the top log of the fence. When Carley essayed to get off Glenn tried +to stop her, saying she could see well enough from there. But Carley got down +and followed Flo. She heard Hutter call to Glenn: “Say, Ryan is short of +men. We’ll lend a hand for a couple of hours.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently Carley reached Flo’s side and the first corral that contained +sheep. They formed a compact woolly mass, rather white in color, with a tinge +of pink. When Flo climbed up on the fence the flock plunged as one animal and +with a trampling roar ran to the far side of the corral. Several old rams with +wide curling horns faced around; and some of the ewes climbed up on the densely +packed mass. Carley rather enjoyed watching them. She surely could not see +anything amiss in this sight. +</p> + +<p> +The next corral held a like number of sheep, and also several Mexicans who were +evidently driving them into a narrow lane that led farther down. Carley saw the +heads of men above other corral fences, and there was also a thick yellowish +smoke rising from somewhere. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, are you game to see the dip?” asked Flo, with good nature +that yet had a touch of taunt in it. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my middle name,” retorted Carley, flippantly. +</p> + +<p> +Both Glenn and this girl seemed to be bent upon bringing out Carley’s +worst side, and they were succeeding. Flo laughed. The ready slang pleased her. +</p> + +<p> +She led Carley along that log fence, through a huge open gate, and across a +wide pen to another fence, which she scaled. Carley followed her, not +particularly overanxious to look ahead. Some thick odor had begun to reach +Carley’s delicate nostrils. Flo led down a short lane and climbed another +fence, and sat astride the top log. Carley hurried along to clamber up to her +side, but stood erect with her feet on the second log of the fence. +</p> + +<p> +Then a horrible stench struck Carley almost like a blow in the face, and before +her confused sight there appeared to be drifting smoke and active men and +running sheep, all against a background of mud. But at first it was the odor +that caused Carley to close her eyes and press her knees hard against the upper +log to keep from reeling. Never in her life had such a sickening nausea +assailed her. It appeared to attack her whole body. The forerunning qualm of +seasickness was as nothing to this. Carley gave a gasp, pinched her nose +between her fingers so she could not smell, and opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Directly beneath her was a small pen open at one end into which sheep were +being driven from the larger corral. The drivers were yelling. The sheep in the +rear plunged into those ahead of them, forcing them on. Two men worked in this +small pen. One was a brawny giant in undershirt and overalls that appeared +filthy. He held a cloth in his hand and strode toward the nearest sheep. +Folding the cloth round the neck of the sheep, he dragged it forward, with an +ease which showed great strength, and threw it into a pit that yawned at the +side. Souse went the sheep into a murky, muddy pool and disappeared. But +suddenly its head came up and then its shoulders. And it began half to walk and +half swim down what appeared to be a narrow boxlike ditch that contained other +floundering sheep. Then Carley saw men on each side of this ditch bending over +with poles that had crooks at the end, and their work was to press and pull the +sheep along to the end of the ditch, and drive them up a boarded incline into +another corral where many other sheep huddled, now a dirty muddy color like the +liquid into which they had been emersed. Souse! Splash! In went sheep after +sheep. Occasionally one did not go under. And then a man would press it under +with the crook and quickly lift its head. The work went on with precision and +speed, in spite of the yells and trampling and baa-baas, and the incessant +action that gave an effect of confusion. +</p> + +<p> +Carley saw a pipe leading from a huge boiler to the ditch. The dark fluid was +running out of it. From a rusty old engine with big smokestack poured the +strangling smoke. A man broke open a sack of yellow powder and dumped it into +the ditch. Then he poured an acid-like liquid after it. +</p> + +<p> +“Sulphur and nicotine,” yelled Flo up at Carley. “The +dip’s poison. If a sheep opens his mouth he’s usually a goner. But +sometimes they save one.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley wanted to tear herself away from this disgusting spectacle. But it held +her by some fascination. She saw Glenn and Hutter fall in line with the other +men, and work like beavers. These two pacemakers in the small pen kept the +sheep coming so fast that every worker below had a task cut out for him. +Suddenly Flo squealed and pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“There! that sheep didn’t come up,” she cried. “Shore +he opened his mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Carley saw Glenn energetically plunge his hooked pole in and out and +around until he had located the submerged sheep. He lifted its head above the +dip. The sheep showed no sign of life. Down on his knees dropped Glenn, to +reach the sheep with strong brown hands, and to haul it up on the ground, where +it flopped inert. Glenn pummeled it and pressed it, and worked on it much as +Carley had seen a life-guard work over a half-drowned man. But the sheep did +not respond to Glenn’s active administrations. +</p> + +<p> +“No use, Glenn,” yelled Hutter, hoarsely. “That one’s a +goner.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley did not fail to note the state of Glenn’s hands and arms and +overalls when he returned to the ditch work. Then back and forth Carley’s +gaze went from one end to the other of that scene. And suddenly it was arrested +and held by the huge fellow who handled the sheep so brutally. Every time he +dragged one and threw it into the pit he yelled: “Ho! Ho!” Carley +was impelled to look at his face, and she was amazed to meet the rawest and +boldest stare from evil eyes that had ever been her misfortune to incite. She +felt herself stiffen with a shock that was unfamiliar. This man was scarcely +many years older than Glenn, yet he had grizzled hair, a seamed and scarred +visage, coarse, thick lips, and beetling brows, from under which peered +gleaming light eyes. At every turn he flashed them upon Carley’s face, +her neck, the swell of her bosom. It was instinct that caused her hastily to +close her riding coat. She felt as if her flesh had been burned. Like a snake +he fascinated her. The intelligence in his bold gaze made the beastliness of it +all the harder to endure, all the stronger to arouse. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Carley, let’s rustle out of this stinkin’ mess,” +cried Flo. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, Carley needed Flo’s assistance in clambering down out of the +choking smoke and horrid odor. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Adios</i>, pretty eyes,” called the big man from the pen. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” ejaculated Flo, when they got out, “I’ll bet I +call Glenn good and hard for letting you go down there.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was—my—fault,” panted Carley. “I said +I’d stand it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re game, all right. I didn’t mean the dip.... That +sheep-slinger is Haze Ruff, the toughest <i>hombre</i> on this range. Shore, +now, wouldn’t I like to take a shot at him?... I’m going to tell +dad and Glenn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t,” returned Carley, appealingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I shore am. Dad needs hands these days. That’s why he’s +lenient. But Glenn will cowhide Ruff and I want to see him do it.” +</p> + +<p> +In Flo Hutter then Carley saw another and a different spirit of the West, a +violence unrestrained and fierce that showed in the girl’s even voice and +in the piercing light of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +They went back to the horses, got their lunches from the saddlebags, and, +finding comfortable seats in a sunny, protected place, they ate and talked. +Carley had to force herself to swallow. It seemed that the horrid odor of dip +and sheep had permeated everything. Glenn had known her better than she had +known herself, and he had wished to spare her an unnecessary and disgusting +experience. Yet so stubborn was Carley that she did not regret going through +with it. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I don’t mind telling you that you’ve stuck it out +better than any tenderfoot we ever had here,” said Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. That from a Western girl is a compliment I’ll not soon +forget,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“I shore mean it. We’ve had rotten weather. And to end the little +trip at this sheep-dip hole! Why, Glenn certainly wanted you to stack up +against the real thing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, he did not want me to come on the trip, and especially here,” +protested Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I know. But he <i>let</i> you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither Glenn nor any other man could prevent me from doing what I +wanted to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” drawled Flo, “I’ll +differ with you. I reckon Glenn Kilbourne is not the man you knew before the +war.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he is not. But that does not alter the case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, we’re not well acquainted,” went on Flo, more +carefully feeling her way, “and I’m not your kind. I don’t +know your Eastern ways. But I know what the West does to a man. The war ruined +your friend—both his body and mind.... How sorry mother and I were for +Glenn, those days when it looked he’d sure ‘go west,’ for +good!... Did you know he’d been gassed and that he had five +hemorrhages?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I knew his lungs had been weakened by gas. But he never told me +about having hemorrhages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he shore had them. The last one I’ll never forget. Every +time he’d cough it would fetch the blood. I could tell!... Oh, it was +awful. I begged him <i>not</i> to cough. He smiled—like a ghost +smiling—and he whispered, ‘I’ll quit.’... And he did. +The doctor came from Flagstaff and packed him in ice. Glenn sat propped up all +night and never moved a muscle. Never coughed again! And the bleeding stopped. +After that we put him out on the porch where he could breathe fresh air all the +time. There’s something wonderfully healing in Arizona air. It’s +from the dry desert and here it’s full of cedar and pine. Anyway Glenn +got well. And I think the West has cured his mind, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what?” queried Carley, in an intense curiosity she could +scarcely hide. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God only knows!” exclaimed Flo, throwing up her gloved hands. +“I never could understand. But I <i>hated</i> what the war did to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley leaned back against the log, quite spent. Flo was unwittingly torturing +her. Carley wanted passionately to give in to jealousy of this Western girl, +but she could not do it. Flo Hutter deserved better than that. And +Carley’s baser nature seemed in conflict with all that was noble in her. +The victory did not yet go to either side. This was a bad hour for Carley. Her +strength had about played out, and her spirit was at low ebb. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you’re all in,” declared Flo. “You +needn’t deny it. I’m shore you’ve made good with me as a +tenderfoot who stayed the limit. But there’s no sense in your killing +yourself, nor in me letting you. So I’m going to tell dad we want to go +home.” +</p> + +<p> +She left Carley there. The word home had struck strangely into Carley’s +mind and remained there. Suddenly she realized what it was to be homesick. The +comfort, the ease, the luxury, the rest, the sweetness, the pleasure, the +cleanliness, the gratification to eye and ear—to all the senses—how +these thoughts came to haunt her! All of Carley’s will power had been +needed to sustain her on this trip to keep her from miserably failing. She had +not failed. But contact with the West had affronted, disgusted, shocked, and +alienated her. In that moment she could not be fair minded; she knew it; she +did not care. +</p> + +<p> +Carley gazed around her. Only one of the cabins was in sight from this +position. Evidently it was a home for some of these men. On one side the peaked +rough roof had been built out beyond the wall, evidently to serve as a kind of +porch. On that wall hung the motliest assortment of things Carley had ever +seen—utensils, sheep and cow hides, saddles, harness, leather clothes, +ropes, old sombreros, shovels, stove pipe, and many other articles for which +she could find no name. The most striking characteristic manifest in this +collection was that of service. How they had been used! They had enabled people +to live under primitive conditions. Somehow this fact inhibited Carley’s +sense of repulsion at their rude and uncouth appearance. Had any of her +forefathers ever been pioneers? Carley did not know, but the thought was +disturbing. It was thought-provoking. Many times at home, when she was dressing +for dinner, she had gazed into the mirror at the graceful lines of her throat +and arms, at the proud poise of her head, at the alabaster whiteness of her +skin, and wonderingly she had asked of her image: “Can it be possible +that I am a descendant of cavemen?” She had never been able to realize +it, yet she knew it was true. Perhaps somewhere not far back along her line +there had been a great-great-grandmother who had lived some kind of a primitive +life, using such implements and necessaries as hung on this cabin wall, and +thereby helped some man to conquer the wilderness, to live in it, and reproduce +his kind. Like flashes Glenn’s words came back to +Carley—“Work and children!” +</p> + +<p> +Some interpretation of his meaning and how it related to this hour held aloof +from Carley. If she would ever be big enough to understand it and broad enough +to accept it the time was far distant. Just now she was sore and sick +physically, and therefore certainly not in a receptive state of mind. Yet how +could she have keener impressions than these she was receiving? It was all a +problem. She grew tired of thinking. But even then her mind pondered on, a +stream of consciousness over which she had no control. This dreary woods was +deserted. No birds, no squirrels, no creatures such as fancy anticipated! In +another direction, across the canyon, she saw cattle, gaunt, ragged, lumbering, +and stolid. And on the moment the scent of sheep came on the breeze. Time +seemed to stand still here, and what Carley wanted most was for the hours and +days to fly, so that she would be home again. +</p> + +<p> +At last Flo returned with the men. One quick glance at Glenn convinced Carley +that Flo had not yet told him about the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you’re a real sport,” declared Glenn, with the rare +smile she loved. “It’s a dreadful mess. And to think you stood +it!... Why, old Fifth Avenue, if you needed to make another hit with me +you’ve done it!” +</p> + +<p> +His warmth amazed and pleased Carley. She could not quite understand why it +would have made any difference to him whether she had stood the ordeal or not. +But then every day she seemed to drift a little farther from a real +understanding of her lover. His praise gladdened her, and fortified her to face +the rest of this ride back to Oak Creek. +</p> + +<p> +Four hours later, in a twilight so shadowy that no one saw her distress, Carley +half slipped and half fell from her horse and managed somehow to mount the +steps and enter the bright living room. A cheerful red fire blazed on the +hearth; Glenn’s hound, Moze, trembled eagerly at sight of her and looked +up with humble dark eyes; the white-clothed dinner table steamed with savory +dishes. Flo stood before the blaze, warming her hands. Lee Stanton leaned +against the mantel, with eyes on her, and every line of his lean, hard face +expressed his devotion to her. Hutter was taking his seat at the head of the +table. “Come an’ get it—you-all,” he called, heartily. +Mrs. Hutter’s face beamed with the spirit of that home. And lastly, +Carley saw Glenn waiting for her, watching her come, true in this very moment +to his stern hope for her and pride in her, as she dragged her weary, spent +body toward him and the bright fire. +</p> + +<p> +By these signs, or the effect of them, Carley vaguely realized that she was +incalculably changing, that this Carley Burch had become a vastly bigger person +in the sight of her friends, and strangely in her own a lesser creature. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +If spring came at all to Oak Creek Canyon it warmed into summer before Carley +had time to languish with the fever characteristic of early June in the East. +</p> + +<p> +As if by magic it seemed the green grass sprang up, the green buds opened into +leaves, the bluebells and primroses bloomed, the apple and peach blossoms burst +exquisitely white and pink against the blue sky. Oak Creek fell to a +transparent, beautiful brook, leisurely eddying in the stone walled nooks, +hurrying with murmur and babble over the little falls. The mornings broke clear +and fragrantly cool, the noon hours seemed to lag under a hot sun, the nights +fell like dark mantles from the melancholy star-sown sky. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had stubbornly kept on riding and climbing until she killed her secret +doubt that she was really a thoroughbred, until she satisfied her own insistent +vanity that she could train to a point where this outdoor life was not too much +for her strength. She lost flesh despite increase of appetite; she lost her +pallor for a complexion of gold-brown she knew her Eastern friends would +admire; she wore out the blisters and aches and pains; she found herself +growing firmer of muscle, lither of line, deeper of chest. And in addition to +these physical manifestations there were subtle intimations of a delight in a +freedom of body she had never before known, of an exhilaration in action that +made her hot and made her breathe, of a sloughing off of numberless petty and +fussy and luxurious little superficialities which she had supposed were +necessary to her happiness. What she had undertaken in vain conquest of +Glenn’s pride and Flo Hutter’s Western tolerance she had found to +be a boomerang. She had won Glenn’s admiration; she had won the Western +girl’s recognition. But her passionate, stubborn desire had been ignoble, +and was proved so by the rebound of her achievement, coming home to her with a +sweetness she had not the courage to accept. She forced it from her. This West +with its rawness, its ruggedness, she hated. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the June days passed, growing dreamily swift, growing more +incomprehensibly full; and still she had not broached to Glenn the main object +of her visit—to take him back East. Yet a little while longer! She hated +his work and had not talked of that. Yet an honest consciousness told her that +as time flew by she feared more and more to tell him that he was wasting his +life there and that she could not bear it. Still was he wasting it? Once in a +while a timid and unfamiliar Carley Burch voiced a pregnant query. Perhaps what +held Carley back most was the happiness she achieved in her walks and rides +with Glenn. She lingered because of them. Every day she loved him more, and +yet—there was something. Was it in her or in him? She had a woman’s +assurance of his love and sometimes she caught her breath—so sweet and +strong was the tumultuous emotion it stirred. She preferred to enjoy while she +could, to dream instead of think. But it was not possible to hold a blank, +dreamy, lulled consciousness all the time. Thought would return. And not always +could she drive away a feeling that Glenn would never be her slave. She divined +something in his mind that kept him gentle and kindly, restrained always, +sometimes melancholy and aloof, as if he were an impassive destiny waiting for +the iron consequences he knew inevitably must fall. What was this that he knew +which she did not know? The idea haunted her. Perhaps it was that which +compelled her to use all her woman’s wiles and charms on Glenn. Still, +though it thrilled her to see she made him love her more as the days passed, +she could not blind herself to the truth that no softness or allurement of hers +changed this strange restraint in him. How that baffled her! Was it resistance +or knowledge or nobility or doubt? +</p> + +<p> +Flo Hutter’s twentieth birthday came along the middle of June, and all +the neighbors and range hands for miles around were invited to celebrate it. +</p> + +<p> +For the second time during her visit Carley put on the white gown that had made +Flo gasp with delight, and had stunned Mrs. Hutter, and had brought a reluctant +compliment from Glenn. Carley liked to create a sensation. What were exquisite +and expensive gowns for, if not that? +</p> + +<p> +It was twilight on this particular June night when she was ready to go +downstairs, and she tarried a while on the long porch. The evening star, so +lonely and radiant, so cold and passionless in the dusky blue, had become an +object she waited for and watched, the same as she had come to love the +dreaming, murmuring melody of the waterfall. She lingered there. What had the +sights and sounds and smells of this wild canyon come to mean to her? She could +not say. But they had changed her immeasurably. +</p> + +<p> +Her soft slippers made no sound on the porch, and as she turned the corner of +the house, where shadows hovered thick, she heard Lee Stanton’s voice: +</p> + +<p> +“But, Flo, you loved me before Kilbourne came.” +</p> + +<p> +The content, the pathos, of his voice chained Carley to the spot. Some +situations, like fate, were beyond resisting. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I did,” replied Flo, dreamily. This was the voice of a girl +who was being confronted by happy and sad thoughts on her birthday. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you—love me—still?” he asked, huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course, Lee! <i>I</i> don’t change,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But then, why—” There for the moment his utterance or +courage failed. +</p> + +<p> +“Lee, do you want the honest to God’s truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“I reckon—I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I love you just as I always did,” replied Flo, earnestly. +“But, Lee, I love—<i>him</i> more than you or anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Heaven! Flo—you’ll ruin us all!” he exclaimed, +hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t either. You can’t say I’m not level +headed. I hated to tell you this, Lee, but you made me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, you love me an’ him—two men?” queried Stanton, +incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“I shore do,” she drawled, with a soft laugh. “And it’s +no fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon I don’t cut much of a figure alongside Kilbourne,” +said Stanton, disconsolately. +</p> + +<p> +“Lee, you could stand alongside any man,” replied Flo, eloquently. +“You’re Western, and you’re steady and loyal, and +you’ll—well, some day you’ll be like dad. Could I say +more?... But, Lee, this man is <i>different</i>. He is wonderful. I can’t +explain it, but I feel it. He has been through hell’s fire. Oh! will I +ever forget his ravings when he lay so ill? He means more to me than just +<i>one</i> man. He’s American. You’re American, too, Lee, and you +trained to be a soldier, and you would have made a grand one—if I know +old Arizona. But you were not called to France.... Glenn Kilbourne went. God +only knows what that means. But he <i>went</i>. And there’s the +difference. I saw the wreck of him. I did a little to save his life and his +mind. I wouldn’t be an American girl if I <i>didn’t</i> love +him.... Oh, Lee, can’t you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I reckon so. I’m not begrudging Glenn what—what you care. +I’m only afraid I’ll lose you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never promised to marry you, did I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in words. But kisses ought to—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, kisses mean a lot,” she replied. “And so far I stand +committed. I suppose I’ll marry you some day and be blamed lucky. +I’ll be happy, too—don’t you overlook that hunch.... You +needn’t worry. Glenn is in love with Carley. She’s beautiful, +rich—and of his class. How could he ever see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, you can never tell,” replied Stanton, thoughtfully. “I +didn’t like her at first. But I’m comin’ round. The thing is, +Flo, does she love him as you love him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I think so—I hope so,” answered Flo, as if in distress. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not so shore. But then I can’t savvy her. Lord knows I +hope so, too. If she doesn’t—if she goes back East an’ leaves +him here—I reckon my case—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! I know she’s out here to take him back. Let’s go +downstairs now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aw, wait—Flo,” he begged. “What’s your hurry?... +Come-give me—” +</p> + +<p> +“There! That’s all you get, birthday or no birthday,” replied +Flo, gayly. +</p> + +<p> +Carley heard the soft kiss and Stanton’s deep breath, and then footsteps +as they walked away in the gloom toward the stairway. Carley leaned against the +log wall. She felt the rough wood—smelled the rusty pine rosin. Her other +hand pressed her bosom where her heart beat with unwonted vigor. Footsteps and +voices sounded beneath her. Twilight had deepened into night. The low murmur of +the waterfall and the babble of the brook floated to her strained ears. +</p> + +<p> +Listeners never heard good of themselves. But Stanton’s subtle doubt of +any depth to her, though it hurt, was not so conflicting as the ringing truth +of Flo Hutter’s love for Glenn. This unsought knowledge powerfully +affected Carley. She was forewarned and forearmed now. It saddened her, yet did +not lessen her confidence in her hold on Glenn. But it stirred to perplexing +pitch her curiosity in regard to the mystery that seemed to cling round +Glenn’s transformation of character. This Western girl really knew more +about Glenn than his fiancée knew. Carley suffered a humiliating shock when she +realized that she had been thinking of herself, of her love, her life, her +needs, her wants instead of Glenn’s. It took no keen intelligence or +insight into human nature to see that Glenn needed her more than she needed +him. +</p> + +<p> +Thus unwontedly stirred and upset and flung back upon pride of herself, Carley +went downstairs to meet the assembled company. And never had she shown to +greater contrast, never had circumstance and state of mind contrived to make +her so radiant and gay and unbending. She heard many remarks not intended for +her far-reaching ears. An old grizzled Westerner remarked to Hutter: +“Wall, she’s shore an unbroke filly.” Another of the +company—a woman—remarked: “Sweet an’ pretty as a +columbine. But I’d like her better if she was dressed decent.” And +a gaunt range rider, who stood with others at the porch door, looking on, asked +a comrade: “Do you reckon that’s style back East?” To which +the other replied: “Mebbe, but I’d gamble they’re short on +silk back East an’ likewise sheriffs.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley received some meed of gratification out of the sensation she created, +but she did not carry her craving for it to the point of overshadowing Flo. On +the contrary, she contrived to have Flo share the attention she received. She +taught Flo to dance the fox-trot and got Glenn to dance with her. Then she +taught it to Lee Stanton. And when Lee danced with Flo, to the infinite wonder +and delight of the onlookers, Carley experienced her first sincere enjoyment of +the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Her moment came when she danced with Glenn. It reminded her of days long past +and which she wanted to return again. Despite war tramping and Western labors +Glenn retained something of his old grace and lightness. But just to dance with +him was enough to swell her heart, and for once she grew oblivious to the +spectators. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, would you like to go to the Plaza with me again, and dance +between dinner courses, as we used to?” she whispered up to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure I would—unless Morrison knew you were to be there,” he +replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn!... I would not even see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any old time you wouldn’t see Morrison!” he exclaimed, half +mockingly. +</p> + +<p> +His doubt, his tone grated upon her. Pressing closer to him, she said, +“Come back and I’ll prove it.” +</p> + +<p> +But he laughed and had no answer for her. At her own daring words +Carley’s heart had leaped to her lips. If he had responded, even +teasingly, she could have burst out with her longing to take him back. But +silence inhibited her, and the moment passed. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of that dance Hutter claimed Glenn in the interest of neighboring +sheep men. And Carley, crossing the big living room alone, passed close to one +of the porch doors. Some one, indistinct in the shadow, spoke to her in low +voice: “Hello, pretty eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley felt a little cold shock go tingling through her. But she gave no sign +that she had heard. She recognized the voice and also the epithet. Passing to +the other side of the room and joining the company there, Carley presently took +a casual glance at the door. Several men were lounging there. One of them was +the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. His bold eyes were on her now, and his coarse face +wore a slight, meaning smile, as if he understood something about her that was +a secret to others. Carley dropped her eyes. But she could not shake off the +feeling that wherever she moved this man’s gaze followed her. The +unpleasantness of this incident would have been nothing to Carley had she at +once forgotten it. Most unaccountably, however, she could not make herself +unaware of this ruffian’s attention. It did no good for her to argue that +she was merely the cynosure of all eyes. This Ruff’s tone and look +possessed something heretofore unknown to Carley. Once she was tempted to tell +Glenn. But that would only cause a fight, so she kept her counsel. She danced +again, and helped Flo entertain her guests, and passed that door often; and +once stood before it, deliberately, with all the strange and contrary impulse +so inscrutable in a woman, and never for a moment wholly lost the sense of the +man’s boldness. It dawned upon her, at length, that the singular thing +about this boldness was its difference from any, which had ever before +affronted her. The fool’s smile meant that he thought she saw his +attention, and, understanding it perfectly, had secret delight in it. Many and +various had been the masculine egotisms which had come under her observation. +But quite beyond Carley was this brawny sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. Once the party +broke up and the guests had departed, she instantly forgot both man and +incident. +</p> + +<p> +Next day, late in the afternoon, when Carley came out on the porch, she was +hailed by Flo, who had just ridden in from down the canyon. +</p> + +<p> +“Hey Carley, come down. I shore have something to tell you,” she +called. +</p> + +<p> +Carley did not use any time pattering down that rude porch stairway. Flo was +dusty and hot, and her chaps carried the unmistakable scent of sheep-dip. +</p> + +<p> +“Been over to Ryan’s camp an’ shore rode hard to beat Glenn +home,” drawled Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” queried Carley, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon I wanted to tell you something Glenn swore he wouldn’t let +me tell. ... He makes me tired. He thinks you can’t stand things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Has he been—hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s skinned an’ bruised up some, but I reckon he’s +not hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flo—what happened?” demanded Carley, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, do you know Glenn can fight like the devil?” asked Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t. But I remember he used to be athletic. Flo, you make +me nervous. Did Glenn fight?” +</p> + +<p> +“I reckon he did,” drawled Flo. +</p> + +<p> +“With whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody else but that big <i>hombre</i>, Haze Ruff.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” gasped Carley, with a violent start. “That—that +ruffian! Flo, did you see—were you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shore was, an’ next to a horse race I like a fight,” +replied the Western girl. “Carley, why didn’t you tell me Haze Ruff +insulted you last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Flo—he only said, ‘Hello, pretty eyes,’ and I let +it pass!” said Carley, lamely. +</p> + +<p> +“You never want to let anything pass, out West. Because next time +you’ll get worse. This turn your other cheek doesn’t go in Arizona. +But we shore thought Ruff said worse than that. Though from him that’s +aplenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Charley told it. He was standing out here by the door last night +an’ he heard Ruff speak to you. Charley thinks a heap of you an’ I +reckon he hates Ruff. Besides, Charley stretches things. He shore riled Glenn, +an’ I want to say, my dear, you missed the best thing that’s +happened since you got here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry—tell me,” begged Carley, feeling the blood come to her +face. +</p> + +<p> +“I rode over to Ryan’s place for dad, an’ when I got there I +knew nothing about what Ruff said to you,” began Flo, and she took hold +of Carley’s hand. “Neither did dad. You see, Glenn hadn’t got +there yet. Well, just as the men had finished dipping a bunch of sheep Glenn +came riding down, lickety cut.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now what the hell’s wrong with Glenn?’ said dad, +getting up from where we sat. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I knew Glenn was mad, though I never before saw him that way. He +looked sort of grim an’ black.... Well, he rode right down on us +an’ piled off. Dad yelled at him an’ so did I. But Glenn made for +the sheep pen. You know where we watched Haze Ruff an’ Lorenzo slinging +the sheep into the dip. Ruff was just about to climb out over the fence when +Glenn leaped up on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Say, Ruff,’ he said, sort of hard, ‘Charley an’ +Ben tell me they heard you speak disrespectfully to Miss Burch last +night.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Dad an’ I ran to the fence, but before we could catch hold of +Glenn he’d jumped down into the pen.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’m not carin’ much for what them herders say,’ +replied Ruff. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Do you deny it?’ demanded Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I ain’t denyin’ nothin’, Kilbourne,’ +growled Ruff. ‘I might argue against me bein’ disrespectful. +That’s a matter of opinion.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’ll apologize for speaking to Miss Burch or I’ll +beat you up an’ have Hutter fire you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wal, Kilbourne, I never eat my words,’ replied Ruff. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Glenn knocked him flat. You ought to have heard that crack. Sounded +like Charley hitting a steer with a club. Dad yelled: ‘Look out, Glenn. +He packs a gun!’—Ruff got up mad clear through I reckon. Then they +mixed it. Ruff got in some swings, but he couldn’t reach Glenn’s +face. An’ Glenn batted him right an’ left, every time in his ugly +mug. Ruff got all bloody an’ he cussed something awful. Glenn beat him +against the fence an’ then we all saw Ruff reach for a gun or knife. All +the men yelled. An’ shore I screamed. But Glenn saw as much as we saw. He +got fiercer. He beat Ruff down to his knees an’ swung on him hard. +Deliberately knocked Ruff into the dip ditch. What a splash! It wet all of us. +Ruff went out of sight. Then he rolled up like a huge hog. We were all scared +now. That dip’s rank poison, you know. Reckon Ruff knew that. He +floundered along an’ crawled up at the end. Anyone could see that he had +mouth an’ eyes tight shut. He began to grope an’ feel around, +trying to find the way to the pond. One of the men led him out. It was great to +see him wade in the water an’ wallow an’ souse his head under. When +he came out the men got in front of him any stopped him. He shore looked +bad.... An’ Glenn called to him, ‘Ruff, that sheep-dip won’t +go through your tough hide, but a bullet will!” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Not long after this incident Carley started out on her usual afternoon ride, +having arranged with Glenn to meet her on his return from work. +</p> + +<p> +Toward the end of June Carley had advanced in her horsemanship to a point where +Flo lent her one of her own mustangs. This change might not have had all to do +with a wonderful difference in riding, but it seemed so to Carley. There was as +much difference in horses as in people. This mustang she had ridden of late was +of Navajo stock, but he had been born and raised and broken at Oak Creek. +Carley had not yet discovered any objection on his part to do as she wanted him +to. He liked what she liked, and most of all he liked to go. His color +resembled a pattern of calico, and in accordance with Western ways his name was +therefore Calico. Left to choose his own gait, Calico always dropped into a +gentle pace which was so easy and comfortable and swinging that Carley never +tired of it. Moreover, he did not shy at things lying in the road or rabbits +darting from bushes or at the upwhirring of birds. Carley had grown attached to +Calico before she realized she was drifting into it; and for Carley to care for +anything or anybody was a serious matter, because it did not happen often and +it lasted. She was exceedingly tenacious of affection. +</p> + +<p> +June had almost passed and summer lay upon the lonely land. Such perfect and +wonderful weather had never before been Carley’s experience. The dawns +broke cool, fresh, fragrant, sweet, and rosy, with a breeze that seemed of +heaven rather than earth, and the air seemed tremulously full of the murmur of +falling water and the melody of mocking birds. At the solemn noontides the +great white sun glared down hot—so hot that it burned the skin, yet +strangely was a pleasant burn. The waning afternoons were Carley’s +especial torment, when it seemed the sounds and winds of the day were tiring, +and all things were seeking repose, and life must soften to an unthinking +happiness. These hours troubled Carley because she wanted them to last, and +because she knew for her this changing and transforming time could not last. So +long as she did not think she was satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Maples and sycamores and oaks were in full foliage, and their bright greens +contrasted softly with the dark shine of the pines. Through the spaces between +brown tree trunks and the white-spotted holes of the sycamores gleamed the +amber water of the creek. Always there was murmur of little rills and the +musical dash of little rapids. On the surface of still, shady pools trout broke +to make ever-widening ripples. Indian paintbrush, so brightly carmine in color, +lent touch of fire to the green banks, and under the oaks, in cool dark nooks +where mossy bowlders lined the stream, there were stately nodding yellow +columbines. And high on the rock ledges shot up the wonderful mescal stalks, +beginning to blossom, some with tints of gold and others with tones of red. +</p> + +<p> +Riding along down the canyon, under its looming walls, Carley wondered that if +unawares to her these physical aspects of Arizona could have become more +significant than she realized. The thought had confronted her before. Here, as +always, she fought it and denied it by the simple defense of elimination. Yet +refusing to think of a thing when it seemed ever present was not going to do +forever. Insensibly and subtly it might get a hold on her, never to be broken. +Yet it was infinitely easier to dream than to think. +</p> + +<p> +But the thought encroached upon her that it was not a dreamful habit of mind +she had fallen into of late. When she dreamed or mused she lived vaguely and +sweetly over past happy hours or dwelt in enchanted fancy upon a possible +future. Carley had been told by a Columbia professor that she was a type of the +present age—a modern young woman of materialistic mind. Be that as it +might, she knew many things seemed loosening from the narrowness and tightness +of her character, sloughing away like scales, exposing a new and strange and +susceptible softness of fiber. And this blank habit of mind, when she did not +think, and now realized that she was not dreaming, seemed to be the body of +Carley Burch, and her heart and soul stripped of a shell. Nerve and emotion and +spirit received something from her surroundings. She absorbed her environment. +She felt. It was a delightful state. But when her own consciousness caused it +to elude her, then she both resented and regretted. Anything that approached +permanent attachment to this crude and untenanted West Carley would not +tolerate for a moment. Reluctantly she admitted it had bettered her health, +quickened her blood, and quite relegated Florida and the Adirondacks, to little +consideration. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as I told Glenn,” soliloquized Carley, “every time +I’m almost won over a little to Arizona she gives me a hard jolt. +I’m getting near being mushy today. Now let’s see what I’ll +get. I suppose that’s my pessimism or materialism. Funny how Glenn keeps +saying its the jolts, the hard knocks, the fights that are best to remember +afterward. I don’t get that at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Five miles below West Fork a road branched off and climbed the left side of the +canyon. It was a rather steep road, long and zigzaging, and full of rocks and +ruts. Carley did not enjoy ascending it, but she preferred the going up to +coming down. It took half an hour to climb. +</p> + +<p> +Once up on the flat cedar-dotted desert she was met, full in the face, by a hot +dusty wind coming from the south. Carley searched her pockets for her goggles, +only to ascertain that she had forgotten them. Nothing, except a freezing +sleety wind, annoyed and punished Carley so much as a hard puffy wind, full of +sand and dust. Somewhere along the first few miles of this road she was to meet +Glenn. If she turned back for any cause he would be worried, and, what +concerned her more vitally, he would think she had not the courage to face a +little dust. So Carley rode on. +</p> + +<p> +The wind appeared to be gusty. It would blow hard awhile, then lull for a few +moments. On the whole, however, it increased in volume and persistence until +she was riding against a gale. She had now come to a bare, flat, gravelly +region, scant of cedars and brush, and far ahead she could see a dull yellow +pall rising high into the sky. It was a duststorm and it was sweeping down on +the wings of that gale. Carley remembered that somewhere along this flat there +was a log cabin which had before provided shelter for her and Flo when they +were caught in a rainstorm. It seemed unlikely that she had passed by this +cabin. +</p> + +<p> +Resolutely she faced the gale and knew she had a task to find that refuge. If +there had been a big rock or bushy cedar to offer shelter she would have +welcomed it. But there was nothing. When the hard dusty gusts hit her, she +found it absolutely necessary to shut her eyes. At intervals less windy she +opened them, and rode on, peering through the yellow gloom for the cabin. Thus +she got her eyes full of dust—an alkali dust that made them sting and +smart. The fiercer puffs of wind carried pebbles large enough to hurt severely. +Then the dust clogged her nose and sand got between her teeth. Added to these +annoyances was a heat like a blast from a furnace. Carley perspired freely and +that caked the dust on her face. She rode on, gradually growing more +uncomfortable and miserable. Yet even then she did not utterly lose a sort of +thrilling zest in being thrown upon her own responsibility. She could hate an +obstacle, yet feel something of pride in holding her own against it. +</p> + +<p> +Another mile of buffeting this increasing gale so exhausted Carley and wrought +upon her nerves that she became nearly panic-stricken. It grew harder and +harder not to turn back. At last she was about to give up when right at hand +through the flying dust she espied the cabin. Riding behind it, she dismounted +and tied the mustang to a post. Then she ran around to the door and entered. +</p> + +<p> +What a welcome refuge! She was all right now, and when Glenn came along she +would have added to her already considerable list another feat for which he +would commend her. With aid of her handkerchief, and the tears that flowed so +copiously, Carley presently freed her eyes of the blinding dust. But when she +essayed to remove it from her face she discovered she would need a towel and +soap and hot water. +</p> + +<p> +The cabin appeared to be enveloped in a soft, swishing, hollow sound. It seeped +and rustled. Then the sound lulled, only to rise again. Carley went to the +door, relieved and glad to see that the duststorm was blowing by. The great +sky-high pall of yellow had moved on to the north. Puffs of dust were whipping +along the road, but no longer in one continuous cloud. In the west, low down +the sun was sinking, a dull magenta in hue, quite weird and remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew I’d get the jolt all right,” soliloquized Carley, +wearily, as she walked to a rude couch of poles and sat down upon it. She had +begun to cool off. And there, feeling dirty and tired, and slowly wearing to +the old depression, she composed herself to wait. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she heard the clip-clop of hoofs. “There! that’s +Glenn,” she cried, gladly, and rising, she ran to the door. +</p> + +<p> +She saw a big bay horse bearing a burly rider. He discovered her at the same +instant, and pulled his horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho! Ho! if it ain’t Pretty Eyes!” he called out, in gay, +coarse voice. +</p> + +<p> +Carley recognized the voice, and then the epithet, before her sight established +the man as Haze Ruff. A singular stultifying shock passed over her. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, by all thet’s lucky!” he said, dismounting. “I +knowed we’d meet some day. I can’t say I just laid fer you, but I +kept my eyes open.” +</p> + +<p> +Manifestly he knew she was alone, for he did not glance into the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m waiting for—Glenn,” she said, with lips she tried +to make stiff. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore I reckoned thet,” he replied, genially. “But he +won’t be along yet awhile.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke with a cheerful inflection of tone, as if the fact designated was one +that would please her; and his swarthy, seamy face expanded into a +good-humored, meaning smile. Then without any particular rudeness he pushed her +back from the door, into the cabin, and stepped across the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare—you!” cried Carley. A hot anger that stirred in her +seemed to be beaten down and smothered by a cold shaking internal commotion, +threatening collapse. This man loomed over her, huge, somehow monstrous in his +brawny uncouth presence. And his knowing smile, and the hard, glinting twinkle +of his light eyes, devilishly intelligent and keen, in no wise lessened the +sheer brutal force of him physically. Sight of his bulk was enough to terrorize +Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Me! Aw, I’m a darin’ <i>hombre</i> an’ a devil with +the wimmin,” he said, with a guffaw. +</p> + +<p> +Carley could not collect her wits. The instant of his pushing her back into the +cabin and following her had shocked her and almost paralyzed her will. If she +saw him now any the less fearful she could not so quickly rally her reason to +any advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me out of here,” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Nope. I’m a-goin’ to make a little love to you,” he +said, and he reached for her with great hairy hands. +</p> + +<p> +Carley saw in them the strength that had so easily swung the sheep. She saw, +too, that they were dirty, greasy hands. And they made her flesh creep. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn will kill—you,” she panted. +</p> + +<p> +“What fer?” he queried, in real or pretended surprise. “Aw, I +know wimmin. You’ll never tell him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, mebbe. I reckon you’re lyin’, Pretty Eyes,” he +replied, with a grin. “Anyhow, I’ll take a chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you—he’ll kill you,” repeated Carley, backing +away until her weak knees came against the couch. +</p> + +<p> +“What fer, I ask you?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“For this—this insult.” +</p> + +<p> +“Huh! I’d like to know who’s insulted you. Can’t a man +take an invitation to kiss an’ hug a girl—without insultin’ +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Invitation!... Are you crazy?” queried Carley, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“Nope, I’m not crazy, an’ I shore said invitation.... I meant +thet white shimmy dress you wore the night of Flo’s party. Thet’s +my invitation to get a little fresh with you, Pretty Eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley could only stare at him. His words seemed to have some peculiar, +unanswerable power. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, if it wasn’t an invitation, what was it?” he asked, +with another step that brought him within reach of her. He waited for her +answer, which was not forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, you’re gettin’ kinda pale around the gills,” he +went on, derisively. “I reckoned you was a real sport.... Come +here.” +</p> + +<p> +He fastened one of his great hands in the front of her coat and gave her a +pull. So powerful was it that Carley came hard against him, almost knocking her +breathless. There he held her a moment and then put his other arm round her. It +seemed to crush both breath and sense out of her. Suddenly limp, she sank +strengthless. She seemed reeling in darkness. Then she felt herself thrust away +from him with violence. She sank on the couch and her head and shoulders struck +the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, if you’re a-goin’ to keel over like thet I pass,” +declared Ruff, in disgust. “Can’t you Eastern wimmin stand +nothin?” +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s eyes opened and beheld this man in an attitude of supremely +derisive protest. +</p> + +<p> +“You look like a sick kitten,” he added. “When I get me a +sweetheart or wife I want her to be a wild cat.” +</p> + +<p> +His scorn and repudiation of her gave Carley intense relief. She sat up and +endeavored to collect her shattered nerves. Ruff gazed down at her with great +disapproval and even disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, did you have some fool idee I was a-goin’ to kill you?” +he queried, gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid—I did,” faltered Carley. Her relief was a +release; it was so strange that it was gratefulness. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, I reckon I wouldn’t have hurt you. None of these flop-over +Janes for me!... An’ I’ll give you a hunch, Pretty Eyes. You might +have run acrost a fellar thet was no gentleman!” +</p> + +<p> +Of all the amazing statements that had ever been made to Carley, this one +seemed the most remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +“What’d you wear thet onnatural white dress fer?” he +demanded, as if he had a right to be her judge. +</p> + +<p> +“Unnatural?” echoed Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Shore. Thet’s what I said. Any woman’s dress without top or +bottom is onnatural. It’s not right. Why, you looked +like—like”—here he floundered for adequate +expression—“like one of the devil’s angels. An’ I want +to hear why you wore it.” +</p> + +<p> +“For the same reason I’d wear any dress,” she felt forced to +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty Eyes, thet’s a lie. An’ you know it’s a lie. +You wore thet white dress to knock the daylights out of men. Only you +ain’t honest enough to say so.... Even me or my kind! Even us, +who’re dirt under your little feet. But all the same we’re men, +an’ mebbe better men than you think. If you had to put that dress on, why +didn’t you stay in your room? Naw, you had to come down an’ strut +around an’ show off your beauty. An’ I ask you—if +you’re a nice girl like Flo Hutter—what’d you wear it +fer?” +</p> + +<p> +Carley not only was mute; she felt rise and burn in her a singular shame and +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only a sheep dipper,” went on Ruff, “but I +ain’t no fool. A fellar doesn’t have to live East an’ wear +swell clothes to have sense. Mebbe you’ll learn thet the West is +bigger’n you think. A man’s a man East or West. But if your Eastern +men stand for such dresses as thet white one they’d do well to come out +West awhile, like your lover, Glenn Kilbourne. I’ve been rustlin’ +round here ten years, an’ I never before seen a dress like +yours—an’ I never heerd of a girl bein’ insulted, either. +Mebbe you think I insulted you. Wal, I didn’t. Fer I reckon +<i>nothin</i>’ could insult you in thet dress.... An’ my last hunch +is this, Pretty Eyes. You’re not what a <i>hombre</i> like me calls +either square or game. <i>Adios</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +His bulky figure darkened the doorway, passed out, and the light of the sky +streamed into the cabin again. Carley sat staring. She heard Ruff’s spurs +tinkle, then the ring of steel on stirrup, a sodden leathery sound as he +mounted, and after that a rapid pound of hoofs, quickly dying away. +</p> + +<p> +He was gone. She had escaped something raw and violent. Dazedly she realized +it, with unutterable relief. And she sat there slowly gathering the nervous +force that had been shattered. Every word that he had uttered was stamped in +startling characters upon her consciousness. But she was still under the +deadening influence of shock. This raw experience was the worst the West had +yet dealt her. It brought back former states of revulsion and formed them in +one whole irrefutable and damning judgment that seemed to blot out the vaguely +dawning and growing happy susceptibilities. It was, perhaps, just as well to +have her mind reverted to realistic fact. The presence of Haze Ruff, the +astounding truth of the contact with his huge sheep-defiled hands, had been +profanation and degradation under which she sickened with fear and shame. Yet +hovering back of her shame and rising anger seemed to be a pale, monstrous, and +indefinable thought, insistent and accusing, with which she must sooner or +later reckon. It might have been the voice of the new side of her nature, but +at that moment of outraged womanhood, and of revolt against the West, she would +not listen. It might, too, have been the still small voice of conscience. But +decision of mind and energy coming to her then, she threw off the burden of +emotion and perplexity, and forced herself into composure before the arrival of +Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +The dust had ceased to blow, although the wind had by no means died away. +Sunset marked the west in old rose and gold, a vast flare. Carley espied a +horseman far down the road, and presently recognized both rider and steed. He +was coming fast. She went out and, mounting her mustang, she rode out to meet +Glenn. It did not appeal to her to wait for him at the cabin; besides hoof +tracks other than those made by her mustang might have been noticed by Glenn. +Presently he came up to her and pulled his loping horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello! I sure was worried,” was his greeting, as his gloved hand +went out to her. “Did you run into that sandstorm?” +</p> + +<p> +“It ran into me, Glenn, and buried me,” she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +His fine eyes lingered on her face with glad and warm glance, and the keen, +apprehensive penetration of a lover. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, under all that dust you look scared,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Scared! I was worse than that. When I first ran into the flying dirt I +was only afraid I’d lose my way—and my complexion. But when the +worst of the storm hit me—then I feared I’d lose my breath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you face that sand and ride through it all?” he queried. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not all. But enough. I went through the worst of it before I reached +the cabin,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t it great?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—great bother and annoyance,” she said, laconically. +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon he reached with long, arm and wrapped it round her as they rocked +side by side. Demonstrations of this nature were infrequent with Glenn. Despite +losing one foot out of a stirrup and her seat in the saddle Carley rather +encouraged it. He kissed her dusty face, and then set her back. +</p> + +<p> +“By George! Carley, sometimes I think you’ve changed since +you’ve been here,” he said, with warmth. “To go through that +sandstorm without one kick—one knock at my West!” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I always think of what Flo says—the worst is yet to +come,” replied Carley, trying to hide her unreasonable and tumultuous +pleasure at words of praise from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley Burch, you don’t know yourself,” he declared, +enigmatically. +</p> + +<p> +“What woman knows herself? But do you know me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I. Yet sometimes I see depths in you—wonderful +possibilities—submerged under your poise—under your fixed, +complacent idle attitude toward life.” +</p> + +<p> +This seemed for Carley to be dangerously skating near thin ice, but she could +not resist a retort: +</p> + +<p> +“Depths in me? Why I am a shallow, transparent stream like your West +Fork! ... And as for possibilities—may I ask what of them you imagine you +see?” +</p> + +<p> +“As a girl, before you were claimed by the world, you were earnest at +heart. You had big hopes and dreams. And you had intellect, too. But you have +wasted your talents, Carley. Having money, and spending it, living for +pleasure, you have not realized your powers.... Now, don’t look hurt. +I’m not censuring you. It’s just the way of modern life. And most +of your friends have been more careless, thoughtless, useless than you. The aim +of their existence is to be comfortable, free from work, worry, pain. They want +pleasure, luxury. And what a pity it is! The best of you girls regard marriage +as an escape, instead of responsibility. You don’t marry to get your +shoulders square against the old wheel of American progress—to help some +man make good—to bring a troop of healthy American kids into the world. +You bare your shoulders to the gaze of the multitude and like it best if you +are strung with pearls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, you distress me when you talk like this,” replied Carley, +soberly. “You did not use to talk so. It seems to me you are bitter +against women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, Carley! I am only sad,” he said. “I only see where +once I was blind. American women are the finest on earth, but as a race, if +they don’t change, they’re doomed to extinction.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you say such things?” demanded Carley, with spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“I say them because they are true. Carley, on the level now, tell me how +many of your immediate friends have children.” +</p> + +<p> +Put to a test, Carley rapidly went over in mind her circle of friends, with the +result that she was somewhat shocked and amazed to realize how few of them were +even married, and how the babies of her acquaintance were limited to three. It +was not easy to admit this to Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” replied he, “if that does not show you the +handwriting on the wall, nothing ever will.” +</p> + +<p> +“A girl has to find a husband, doesn’t she?” asked Carley, +roused to defense of her sex. “And if she’s anybody she has to find +one in her set. Well, husbands are not plentiful. Marriage certainly is not the +end of existence these days. We have to get along somehow. The high cost of +living is no inconsderable factor today. Do you know that most of the +better-class apartment houses in New York will not take children? Women are not +all to blame. Take the speed mania. Men must have automobiles. I know one girl +who wanted a baby, but her husband wanted a car. They couldn’t afford +both.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I’m not blaming women more than men,” returned +Glenn. “I don’t know that I blame them as a class. But in my own +mind I have worked it all out. Every man or woman who is genuinely American +should read the signs of the times, realize the crisis, and meet it in an +American way. Otherwise we are done as a race. Money is God in the older +countries. But it should never become God in America. If it does we will make +the fall of Rome pale into insignificance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, let’s put off the argument,” appealed Carley. +“I’m not—just up to fighting you today. Oh—you +needn’t smile. I’m not showing a yellow streak, as Flo puts it. +I’ll fight you some other time.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, Carley,” he assented. “Here we are +loafing six or seven miles from home. Let’s rustle along.” +</p> + +<p> +Riding fast with Glenn was something Carley had only of late added to her +achievements. She had greatest pride in it. So she urged her mustang to keep +pace with Glenn’s horse and gave herself up to the thrill of the motion +and feel of wind and sense of flying along. At a good swinging lope Calico +covered ground swiftly and did not tire. Carley rode the two miles to the rim +of the canyon, keeping alongside of Glenn all the way. Indeed, for one long +level stretch she and Glenn held hands. When they arrived at the descent, which +necessitated slow and careful riding, she was hot and tingling and breathless, +worked by the action into an exuberance of pleasure. Glenn complimented her +riding as well as her rosy cheeks. There was indeed a sweetness in working at a +task as she had worked to learn to ride in Western fashion. Every turn of her +mind seemed to confront her with sobering antitheses of thought. Why had she +come to love to ride down a lonely desert road, through ragged cedars where the +wind whipped her face with fragrant wild breath, if at the same time she hated +the West? Could she hate a country, however barren and rough, if it had saved +the health and happiness of her future husband? Verily there were problems for +Carley to solve. +</p> + +<p> +Early twilight purple lay low in the hollows and clefts of the canyon. Over the +western rim a pale ghost of the evening star seemed to smile at Carley, to bid +her look and look. Like a strain of distant music, the dreamy hum of falling +water, the murmur and melody of the stream, came again to Carley’s +sensitive ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you love this?” asked Glenn, when they reached the +green-forested canyon floor, with the yellow road winding away into the purple +shadows. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, both the ride—and you,” flashed Carley, contrarily. She +knew he had meant the deep-walled canyon with its brooding solitude. +</p> + +<p> +“But I want you to love Arizona,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I’m a faithful creature. You should be glad of that. I love +New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then. Arizona to New York,” he said, lightly brushing +her cheek with his lips. And swerving back into his saddle, he spurred his +horse and called back over his shoulder: “That mustang and Flo have +beaten me many a time. Come on.” +</p> + +<p> +It was not so much his words as his tone and look that roused Carley. Had he +resented her loyalty to the city of her nativity? Always there was a little +rift in the lute. Had his tone and look meant that Flo might catch him if +Carley could not? Absurd as the idea was, it spurred her to recklessness. Her +mustang did not need any more than to know she wanted him to run. The road was +of soft yellow earth flanked with green foliage and overspread by pines. In a +moment she was racing at a speed she had never before half attained on a horse. +Down the winding road Glenn’s big steed sped, his head low, his stride +tremendous, his action beautiful. But Carley saw the distance between them +diminishing. Calico was overtaking the bay. She cried out in the thrilling +excitement of the moment. Glenn saw her gaining and pressed his mount to +greater speed. Still he could not draw away from Calico. Slowly the little +mustang gained. It seemed to Carley that riding him required no effort at all. +And at such fast pace, with the wind roaring in her ears, the walls of green +vague and continuous in her sight, the sting of pine tips on cheek and neck, +the yellow road streaming toward her, under her, there rose out of the depths +of her, out of the tumult of her breast, a sense of glorious exultation. She +closed in on Glenn. From the flying hoofs of his horse shot up showers of damp +sand and gravel that covered Carley’s riding habit and spattered in her +face. She had to hold up a hand before her eyes. Perhaps this caused her to +lose something of her confidence, or her swing in the saddle, for suddenly she +realized she was not riding well. The pace was too fast for her inexperience. +But nothing could have stopped her then. No fear or awkwardness of hers should +be allowed to hamper that thoroughbred mustang. Carley felt that Calico +understood the situation; or at least he knew he could catch and pass this big +bay horse, and he intended to do it. Carley was hard put to it to hang on and +keep the flying sand from blinding her. +</p> + +<p> +When Calico drew alongside the bay horse and brought Carley breast to breast +with Glenn, and then inch by inch forged ahead of him, Carley pealed out an +exultant cry. Either it frightened Calico or inspired him, for he shot right +ahead of Glenn’s horse. Then he lost the smooth, wonderful action. He +seemed hurtling through space at the expense of tremendous muscular action. +Carley could feel it. She lost her equilibrium. She seemed rushing through a +blurred green and black aisle of the forest with a gale in her face. Then, with +a sharp jolt, a break, Calico plunged to the sand. Carley felt herself +propelled forward out of the saddle into the air, and down to strike with a +sliding, stunning force that ended in sudden dark oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +Upon recovering consciousness she first felt a sensation of oppression in her +chest and a dull numbness of her whole body. When she opened her eyes she saw +Glenn bending over her, holding her head on his knee. A wet, cold, reviving +sensation evidently came from the handkerchief with which he was mopping her +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you can’t be hurt—really!” he was ejaculating, +in eager hope. “It was some spill. But you lit on the sand and slid. You +can’t be hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +The look of his eyes, the tone of his voice, the feel of his hands were such +that Carley chose for a moment to pretend to be very badly hurt indeed. It was +worth taking a header to get so much from Glenn Kilbourne. But she believed she +had suffered no more than a severe bruising and scraping. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn—dear,” she whispered, very low and very eloquently. +“I think—my back—is broken.... You’ll be +free—soon.” +</p> + +<p> +Glenn gave a terrible start and his face turned a deathly white. He burst out +with quavering, inarticulate speech. +</p> + +<p> +Carley gazed up at him and then closed her eyes. She could not look at him +while carrying on such deceit. Yet the sight of him and the feel of him then +were inexpressibly blissful to her. What she needed most was assurance of his +love. She had it. Beyond doubt, beyond morbid fancy, the truth had proclaimed +itself, filling her heart with joy. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she flung her arms up around his neck. “Oh—Glenn! It was +too good a chance to miss!... I’m not hurt a bit.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +The day came when Carley asked Mrs. Hutter: “Will you please put up a +nice lunch for Glenn and me? I’m going to walk down to his farm where +he’s working, and surprise him.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a downright fine idea,” declared Mrs. Hutter, and +forthwith bustled away to comply with Carley’s request. +</p> + +<p> +So presently Carley found herself carrying a bountiful basket on her arm, +faring forth on an adventure that both thrilled and depressed her. Long before +this hour something about Glenn’s work had quickened her pulse and given +rise to an inexplicable admiration. That he was big and strong enough to do +such labor made her proud; that he might want to go on doing it made her ponder +and brood. +</p> + +<p> +The morning resembled one of the rare Eastern days in June, when the air +appeared flooded by rich thick amber light. Only the sun here was hotter and +the shade cooler. +</p> + +<p> +Carley took to the trail below where West Fork emptied its golden-green waters +into Oak Creek. The red walls seemed to dream and wait under the blaze of the +sun; the heat lay like a blanket over the still foliage; the birds were quiet; +only the murmuring stream broke the silence of the canyon. Never had Carley +felt more the isolation and solitude of Oak Creek Canyon. Far indeed from the +madding crowd! Only Carley’s stubbornness kept her from acknowledging the +sense of peace that enveloped her—that and the consciousness of her own +discontent. What would it be like to come to this canyon—to give up to +its enchantments? That, like many another disturbing thought, had to go +unanswered, to be driven into the closed chambers of Carley’s mind, there +to germinate subconsciously, and stalk forth some day to overwhelm her. +</p> + +<p> +The trail led along the creek, threading a maze of bowlders, passing into the +shade of cottonwoods, and crossing sun-flecked patches of sand. Carley’s +every step seemed to become slower. Regrets were assailing her. Long indeed had +she overstayed her visit to the West. She must not linger there indefinitely. +And mingled with misgiving was a surprise that she had not tired of Oak Creek. +In spite of all, and of the dislike she vaunted to herself, the truth stared at +her—she was not tired. +</p> + +<p> +The long-delayed visit to see Glenn working on his own farm must result in her +talking to him about his work; and in a way not quite clear she regretted the +necessity for it. To disapprove of Glenn! She received faint intimations of +wavering, of uncertainty, of vague doubt. But these were cried down by the +dominant and habitable voice of her personality. +</p> + +<p> +Presently through the shaded and shadowed breadth of the belt of forest she saw +gleams of a sunlit clearing. And crossing this space to the border of trees she +peered forth, hoping to espy Glenn at his labors. She saw an old shack, and +irregular lines of rude fence built of poles of all sizes and shapes, and +several plots of bare yellow ground, leading up toward the west side of the +canyon wall. Could this clearing be Glenn’s farm? Surely she had missed +it or had not gone far enough. This was not a farm, but a slash in the forested +level of the canyon floor, bare and somehow hideous. Dead trees were standing +in the lots. They had been ringed deeply at the base by an ax, to kill them, +and so prevent their foliage from shading the soil. Carley saw a long pile of +rocks that evidently had been carried from the plowed ground. There was no +neatness, no regularity, although there was abundant evidence of toil. To clear +that rugged space, to fence it, and plow it, appeared at once to Carley an +extremely strenuous and useless task. Carley persuaded herself that this must +be the plot of ground belonging to the herder Charley, and she was about to +turn on down the creek when far up under the bluff she espied a man. He was +stalking along and bending down, stalking along and bending down. She +recognized Glenn. He was planting something in the yellow soil. +</p> + +<p> +Curiously Carley watched him, and did not allow her mind to become concerned +with a somewhat painful swell of her heart. What a stride he had! How vigorous +he looked, and earnest! He was as intent upon this job as if he had been a +rustic. He might have been failing to do it well, but he most certainly was +doing it conscientiously. Once he had said to her that a man should never be +judged by the result of his labors, but by the nature of his effort. A man +might strive with all his heart and strength, yet fail. Carley watched him +striding along and bending down, absorbed in his task, unmindful of the glaring +hot sun, and somehow to her singularly detached from the life wherein he had +once moved and to which she yearned to take him back. Suddenly an unaccountable +flashing query assailed her conscience: How dare she want to take him back? She +seemed as shocked as if some stranger had accosted her. What was this dimming +of her eye, this inward tremulousness; this dammed tide beating at an unknown +and riveted gate of her intelligence? She felt more then than she dared to +face. She struggled against something in herself. The old habit of mind +instinctively resisted the new, the strange. But she did not come off wholly +victorious. The Carley Burch whom she recognized as of old, passionately hated +this life and work of Glenn Kilbourne’s, but the rebel self, an +unaccountable and defiant Carley, loved him all the better for them. +</p> + +<p> +Carley drew a long deep breath before she called Glenn. This meeting would be +momentous and she felt no absolute surety of herself. +</p> + +<p> +Manifestly he was surprised to hear her call, and, dropping his sack and +implement, he hurried across the tilled ground, sending up puffs of dust. He +vaulted the rude fence of poles, and upon sight of her called out lustily. How +big and virile he looked! Yet he was gaunt and strained. It struck Carley that +he had not looked so upon her arrival at Oak Creek. Had she worried him? The +query gave her a pang. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Tiller of the Fields,” said Carley, gayly, “see, your +dinner! <i>I</i> brought it and <i>I</i> am going to share it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You old darling!” he replied, and gave her an embrace that left +her cheek moist with the sweat of his. He smelled of dust and earth and his +body was hot. “I wish to God it could be true for always!” +</p> + +<p> +His loving, bearish onslaught and his words quite silenced Carley. How at +critical moments he always said the thing that hurt her or inhibited her! She +essayed a smile as she drew back from him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s sure good of you,” he said, taking the basket. “I +was thinking I’d be through work sooner today, and was sorry I had not +made a date with you. Come, we’ll find a place to sit.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon he led her back under the trees to a half-sunny, half-shady bench of +rock overhanging the stream. Great pines overshadowed a still, eddying pool. A +number of brown butterflies hovered over the water, and small trout floated +like spotted feathers just under the surface. Drowsy summer enfolded the sylvan +scene. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn knelt at the edge of the brook, and, plunging his hands in, he splashed +like a huge dog and bathed his hot face and head, and then turned to Carley +with gay words and laughter, while he wiped himself dry with a large red scarf. +Carley was not proof against the virility of him then, and at the moment, no +matter what it was that had made him the man he looked, she loved it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll sit in the sun,” he said, designating a place. +“When you’re hot you mustn’t rest in the shade, unless +you’ve coat or sweater. But you sit here in the shade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, that’ll put us too far apart,” complained Carley. +“I’ll sit in the sun with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The delightful simplicity and happiness of the ensuing hour was something +Carley believed she would never forget. +</p> + +<p> +“There! we’ve licked the platter clean,” she said. +“What starved bears we were!.... I wonder if I shall enjoy +eating—when I get home. I used to be so finnicky and picky.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, don’t talk about home,” said Glenn, appealingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You dear old farmer, I’d love to stay here and just +dream—forever,” replied Carley, earnestly. “But I came on +purpose to talk seriously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you did! About what?” he returned, with some quick, +indefinable change of tone and expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, first about your work. I know I hurt your feelings when I +wouldn’t listen. But I wasn’t ready. I wanted to—to just be +gay with you for a while. Don’t think I wasn’t interested. I was. +And now, I’m ready to hear all about it—and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseen shock upset +her composure, she would be able to conceal from him anything which might hurt +his feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“You do look serious,” he said, with keen eyes on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Just what are your business relations with Hutter?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m simply working for him,” replied Glenn. “My aim is +to get an interest in his sheep, and I expect to, some day. We have some plans. +And one of them is the development of that Deep Lake section. You +remember—you were with us. The day Spillbeans spilled you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember. It was a pretty place,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +Carley did not tell him that for a month past she had owned the Deep Lake +section of six hundred and forty acres. She had, in fact, instructed Hutter to +purchase it, and to keep the transaction a secret for the present. Carley had +never been able to understand the impulse that prompted her to do it. But as +Hutter had assured her it was a remarkably good investment on very little +capital, she had tried to persuade herself of its advantages. Back of it all +had been an irresistible desire to be able some day to present to Glenn this +ranch site he loved. She had concluded he would never wholly dissociate himself +from this West; and as he would visit it now and then, she had already begun +forming plans of her own. She could stand a month in Arizona at long intervals. +</p> + +<p> +“Hutter and I will go into cattle raising some day,” went on Glenn. +“And that Deep Lake place is what I want for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What work are you doing for Hutter?” asked Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything from building fence to cutting timber,” laughed Glenn. +“I’ve not yet the experience to be a foreman like Lee Stanton. +Besides, I have a little business all my own. I put all my money in +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean here—this—this farm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And the stock I’m raisin’. You see I have to feed corn. +And believe me, Carley, those cornfields represent some job.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can well believe that,” replied Carley. “You—you +looked it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the hard work is over. All I have to do now it to plant and keep the +weeds out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, do sheep eat corn?” +</p> + +<p> +“I plant corn to feed my hogs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hogs?” she echoed, vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, hogs,” he said, with quiet gravity. “The first day you +visited my cabin I told you I raised hogs, and I fried my own ham for your +dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that what you—put your money in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And Hutter says I’ve done well.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Hogs!</i>” ejaculated Carley, aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, are you growin’ dull of comprehension?” retorted +Glenn. “H-o-g-s.” He spelled the word out. “I’m in the +hog-raising business, and pretty blamed well pleased over my success so +far.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley caught herself in time to quell outwardly a shock of amaze and +revulsion. She laughed, and exclaimed against her stupidity. The look of Glenn +was no less astounding than the content of his words. He was actually proud of +his work. Moreover, he showed not the least sign that he had any idea such +information might be startlingly obnoxious to his fiancée. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn! It’s so—so queer,” she ejaculated. “That +you—Glenn Kilbourne-should ever go in for—for hogs!... It’s +unbelievable. How’d you ever—ever happen to do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Heaven! you’re hard on me!” he burst out, in sudden dark, +fierce passion. “How’d I ever happen to do it?... <i>What</i> was +there left for me? I gave my soul and heart and body to the government—to +fight for my country. I came home a wreck. <i>What</i> did my government do for +me? <i>What</i> did my employers do for me? <i>What</i> did the people I fought +for do for me?... Nothing—so help me God—<i>nothing!</i>... I got a +ribbon and a bouquet—a little applause for an hour—and then the +sight of me sickened my countrymen. I was broken and used. I was absolutely +forgotten.... But my body, my life, my soul meant <i>all</i> to me. My future +was ruined, but I wanted to live. I had killed men who never harmed me—I +was not fit to die.... I <i>tried</i> to live. So I fought out my battle alone. +Alone!... No one understood. No one cared. I came West to keep from dying of +consumption in sight of the indifferent mob for whom I had sacrificed myself. I +chose to die on my feet away off alone somewhere.... But I got well. And what +<i>made</i> me well—and <i>saved</i> my soul—was the first work +that offered. <i>Raising and tending hogs!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The dead whiteness of Glenn’s face, the lightning scorn of his eyes, the +grim, stark strangeness of him then had for Carley a terrible harmony with this +passionate denunciation of her, of her kind, of the America for whom he had +lost all. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Glenn!—forgive—me!” she faltered. “I was +only—talking. What do I know? Oh, I am blind—blind and +little!” +</p> + +<p> +She could not bear to face him for a moment, and she hung her head. Her +intelligence seemed concentrating swift, wild thoughts round the shock to her +consciousness. By that terrible expression of his face, by those thundering +words of scorn, would she come to realize the mighty truth of his descent into +the abyss and his rise to the heights. Vaguely she began to see. An awful sense +of her deadness, of her soul-blighting selfishness, began to dawn upon her as +something monstrous out of dim, gray obscurity. She trembled under the reality +of thoughts that were not new. How she had babbled about Glenn and the crippled +soldiers! How she had imagined she sympathized! But she had only been a vain, +worldly, complacent, effusive little fool. She had here the shock of her life, +and she sensed a greater one, impossible to grasp. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, that was coming to you,” said Glenn, presently, with deep, +heavy expulsion of breath. +</p> + +<p> +“I only know I love you—more—more,” she cried, wildly, +looking up and wanting desperately to throw herself in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you do—a little,” he replied. “Sometimes I +feel you are a kid. Then again you represent the world—your world with +its age-old custom—its unalterable.... But, Carley, let’s get back +to my work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—yes,” exclaimed Carley, gladly. “I’m ready +to—to go pet your hogs—anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“By George! I’ll take you up,” he declared. “I’ll +bet you won’t go near one of my hogpens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lead me to it!” she replied, with a hilarity that was only a +nervous reversion of her state. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, maybe I’d better hedge on the bet,” he said, laughing +again. “You have more in you than I suspect. You sure fooled me when you +stood for the sheep-dip. But, come on, I’ll take you anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +So that was how Carley found herself walking arm in arm with Glenn down the +canyon trail. A few moments of action gave her at least an appearance of +outward composure. And the state of her emotion was so strained and intense +that her slightest show of interest must deceive Glenn into thinking her eager, +responsive, enthusiastic. It certainly appeared to loosen his tongue. But +Carley knew she was farther from normal than ever before in her life, and that +the subtle, inscrutable woman’s intuition of her presaged another shock. +Just as she had seemed to change, so had the aspects of the canyon undergone +some illusive transformation. The beauty of green foliage and amber stream and +brown tree trunks and gray rocks and red walls was there; and the summer +drowsiness and languor lay as deep; and the loneliness and solitude brooded +with its same eternal significance. But some nameless enchantment, perhaps of +hope, seemed no longer to encompass her. A blow had fallen upon her, the nature +of which only time could divulge. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn led her around the clearing and up to the base of the west wall, where +against a shelving portion of the cliff had been constructed a rude fence of +poles. It formed three sides of a pen, and the fourth side was solid rock. A +bushy cedar tree stood in the center. Water flowed from under the cliff, which +accounted for the boggy condition of the red earth. This pen was occupied by a +huge sow and a litter of pigs. +</p> + +<p> +Carley climbed on the fence and sat there while Glenn leaned over the top pole +and began to wax eloquent on a subject evidently dear to his heart. Today of +all days Carley made an inspiring listener. Even the shiny, muddy, suspicious +old sow in no wise daunted her fictitious courage. That filthy pen of mud a +foot deep, and of odor rancid, had no terrors for her. With an arm round +Glenn’s shoulder she watched the rooting and squealing little pigs, and +was amused and interested, as if they were far removed from the vital issue of +the hour. But all the time as she looked and laughed, and encouraged Glenn to +talk, there seemed to be a strange, solemn, oppressive knocking at her heart. +Was it only the beat-beat-beat of blood? +</p> + +<p> +“There were twelve pigs in that litter,” Glenn was saying, +“and now you see there are only nine. I’ve lost three. Mountain +lions, bears, coyotes, wild cats are all likely to steal a pig. And at first I +was sure one of these varmints had been robbing me. But as I could not find any +tracks, I knew I had to lay the blame on something else. So I kept watch pretty +closely in daytime, and at night I shut the pigs up in the corner there, where +you see I’ve built a pen. Yesterday I heard squealing—and, by +George! I saw an eagle flying off with one of my pigs. Say, I was mad. A great +old bald-headed eagle—the regal bird you see with America’s stars +and stripes had degraded himself to the level of a coyote. I ran for my rifle, +and I took some quick shots at him as he flew up. Tried to hit him, too, but I +failed. And the old rascal hung on to my pig. I watched him carry it to that +sharp crag way up there on the rim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little piggy!” exclaimed Carley. “To think of our +American emblem—our stately bird of noble warlike mien—our symbol +of lonely grandeur and freedom of the heights—think of him being a robber +of pigpens!—Glenn, I begin to appreciate the many-sidedness of things. +Even my hide-bound narrowness is susceptible to change. It’s never too +late to learn. This should apply to the Society for the Preservation of the +American Eagle.” +</p> + +<p> +Glenn led her along the base of the wall to three other pens, in each of which +was a fat old sow with a litter. And at the last enclosure, that owing to dry +soil was not so dirty, Glenn picked up a little pig and held it squealing out +to Carley as she leaned over the fence. It was fairly white and clean, a little +pink and fuzzy, and certainly cute with its curled tall. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley Burch, take it in your hands,” commanded Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +The feat seemed monstrous and impossible of accomplishment for Carley. Yet such +was her temper at the moment that she would have undertaken anything. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, shore I will, as Flo says,” replied Carley, extending her +ungloved hands. “Come here, piggy. I christen you Pinky.” And +hiding an almost insupportable squeamishness from Glenn, she took the pig in +her hands and fondled it. +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” exclaimed Glenn, in huge delight. “I +wouldn’t have believed it. Carley, I hope you tell your fastidious and +immaculate Morrison that you held one of my pigs in your beautiful +hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t it please you more to tell him yourself?” asked +Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it would,” declared Glenn, grimly. +</p> + +<p> +This incident inspired Glenn to a Homeric narration of his hog-raising +experience. In spite of herself the content of his talk interested her. And as +for the effect upon her of his singular enthusiasm, it was deep and compelling. +The little-boned Berkshire razorback hogs grew so large and fat and heavy that +their bones broke under their weight. The Duroc jerseys were the best breed in +that latitude, owing to their larger and stronger bones, that enabled them to +stand up under the greatest accumulation of fat. +</p> + +<p> +Glenn told of his droves of pigs running wild in the canyon below. In +summertime they fed upon vegetation, and at other seasons on acorns, roots, +bugs, and grubs. Acorns, particularly, were good and fattening feed. They ate +cedar and juniper berries, and pinyon nuts. And therefore they lived off the +land, at little or no expense to the owner. The only loss was from beasts and +birds of prey. Glenn showed Carley how a profitable business could soon be +established. He meant to fence off side canyons and to segregate droves of his +hogs, and to raise abundance of corn for winter feed. At that time there was a +splendid market for hogs, a condition Hutter claimed would continue +indefinitely in a growing country. In conclusion Glenn eloquently told how in +his necessity he had accepted gratefully the humblest of labors, to find in the +hard pursuit of it a rejuvenation of body and mind, and a promise of +independence and prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +When he had finished, and excused himself to go repair a weak place in the +corral fence, Carley sat silent, wrapped in strange meditation. +</p> + +<p> +Whither had faded the vulgarity and ignominy she had attached to Glenn’s +raising of hogs? Gone—like other miasmas of her narrow mind! Partly she +understood him now. She shirked consideration of his sacrifice to his country. +That must wait. But she thought of his work, and the more she thought the less +she wondered. +</p> + +<p> +First he had labored with his hands. What infinite meaning lay unfolding to her +vision! Somewhere out of it all came the conception that man was intended to +earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. But there was more to it than that. By +that toil and sweat, by the friction of horny palms, by the expansion and +contraction of muscle, by the acceleration of blood, something great and +enduring, something physical and spiritual, came to a man. She understood then +why she would have wanted to surrender herself to a man made manly by toil; she +understood how a woman instinctively leaned toward the protection of a man who +had used his hands—who had strength and red blood and virility who could +fight like the progenitors of the race. Any toil was splendid that served this +end for any man. It all went back to the survival of the fittest. And suddenly +Carley thought of Morrison. He could dance and dangle attendance upon her, and +amuse her—but how would he have acquitted himself in a moment of peril? +She had her doubts. Most assuredly he could not have beaten down for her a +ruffian like Haze Ruff. What then should be the significance of a man for a +woman? +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s querying and answering mind reverted to Glenn. He had found a +secret in this seeking for something through the labor of hands. All +development of body must come through exercise of muscles. The virility of cell +in tissue and bone depended upon that. Thus he had found in toil the pleasure +and reward athletes had in their desultory training. But when a man learned +this secret the need of work must become permanent. Did this explain the law of +the Persians that every man was required to sweat every day? +</p> + +<p> +Carley tried to picture to herself Glenn’s attitude of mind when he had +first gone to work here in the West. Resolutely she now denied her shrinking, +cowardly sensitiveness. She would go to the root of this matter, if she had +intelligence enough. Crippled, ruined in health, wrecked and broken by an +inexplicable war, soul-blighted by the heartless, callous neglect of government +and public, on the verge of madness at the insupportable facts, he had yet been +wonderful enough, true enough to himself and God, to fight for life with the +instinct of a man, to fight for his mind with a noble and unquenchable faith. +Alone indeed he had been alone! And by some miracle beyond the power of +understanding he had found day by day in his painful efforts some hope and +strength to go on. He could not have had any illusions. For Glenn Kilbourne the +health and happiness and success most men held so dear must have seemed +impossible. His slow, daily, tragic, and terrible task must have been something +he owed himself. Not for Carley Burch! She like all the others had failed him. +How Carley shuddered in confession of that! Not for the country which had used +him and cast him off! Carley divined now, as if by a flash of lightning, the +meaning of Glenn’s strange, cold, scornful, and aloof manner when he had +encountered young men of his station, as capable and as strong as he, who had +escaped the service of the army. For him these men did not exist. They were +less than nothing. They had waxed fat on lucrative jobs; they had basked in the +presence of girls whose brothers and lovers were in the trenches or on the +turbulent sea, exposed to the ceaseless dread and almost ceaseless toil of war. +If Glenn’s spirit had lifted him to endurance of war for the sake of +others, how then could it fail him in a precious duty of fidelity to himself? +Carley could see him day by day toiling in his lonely canyon—plodding to +his lonely cabin. He had been playing the game—fighting it out alone as +surely he knew his brothers of like misfortune were fighting. +</p> + +<p> +So Glenn Kilbourne loomed heroically in Carley’s transfigured sight. He +was one of Carlyle’s battle-scarred warriors. Out of his travail he had +climbed on stepping-stones of his dead self. <i>Resurgam!</i> That had been his +unquenchable cry. Who had heard it? Only the solitude of his lonely canyon, +only the waiting, dreaming, watching walls, only the silent midnight shadows, +only the white, blinking, passionless stars, only the wild creatures of his +haunts, only the moaning wind in the pines—only these had been with him +in his agony. How near were these things to God? +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s heart seemed full to bursting. Not another single moment could +her mounting love abide in a heart that held a double purpose. How bitter the +assurance that she had not come West to help him! It was self, self, all self +that had actuated her. Unworthy indeed was she of the love of this man. Only a +lifetime of devotion to him could acquit her in the eyes of her better self. +Sweetly and madly raced the thrill and tumult of her blood. There must be only +one outcome to her romance. Yet the next instant there came a dull +throbbing—an oppression which was pain—an impondering vague thought +of catastrophe. Only the fearfulness of love perhaps! +</p> + +<p> +She saw him complete his task and wipe his brown moist face and stride toward +her, coming nearer, tall and erect with something added to his soldierly +bearing, with a light in his eyes she could no longer bear. +</p> + +<p> +The moment for which she had waited more than two months had come at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn—when will you go back East?” she asked, tensely and +low. +</p> + +<p> +The instant the words were spent upon her lips she realized that he had always +been waiting and prepared for this question that had been so terrible for her +to ask. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley,” he replied gently, though his voice rang, “I am +never going back East.” +</p> + +<p> +An inward quivering hindered her articulation. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Never?</i>” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Never to live, or stay any while,” he went on. “I might go +some time for a little visit.... But never to live.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—Glenn!” she gasped, and her hands fluttered out to him. +The shock was driving home. No amaze, no incredulity succeeded her reception of +the fact. It was a slow stab. Carley felt the cold blanch of her skin. +“Then—this is it—the something I felt strange between +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I knew—and you never asked me,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“That was it? All the time you knew,” she whispered, huskily. +“You knew. ... <i>I’d never—marry you—never live out +here?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Carley, I knew you’d never be woman enough—<i>American +enough</i>—to help me reconstruct my broken life out here in the +West,” he replied, with a sad and bitter smile. +</p> + +<p> +That flayed her. An insupportable shame and wounded vanity and clamoring love +contended for dominance of her emotions. Love beat down all else. +</p> + +<p> +“Dearest—I beg of you—don’t break my heart,” she +implored. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, Carley,” he answered, steadily, with piercing eyes on +hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Then come back—home—home with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. If you love me you will be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love you! Glenn, I worship you,” she broke out, passionately. +“But I could not live here—<i>I could not</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, did you ever read of the woman who said, ‘Whither thou +goest, there will I go’...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t be ruthless! Don’t judge me.... I never dreamed of +this. I came West to take you back.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, it was a mistake,” he said, gently, softening to her +distress. “I’m sorry I did not write you more plainly. But, Carley, +I could not ask you to share this—this wilderness home with me. I +don’t ask it now. I always knew you couldn’t do it. Yet +you’ve changed so—that I hoped against hope. Love makes us blind +even to what we see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t try to spare me. I’m slight and miserable. I stand +abased in my own eyes. I thought I loved you. But I must love best the +crowd—people—luxury—fashion—the damned round of things +I was born to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you will realize their insufficiency too late,” he +replied, earnestly. “The things you were born to are love, work, +children, happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t! don’t!... they are hollow mockery for me,” she +cried, passionately. “Glenn, it is the end. It must +come—quickly.... You are free.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not ask to be free. Wait. Go home and look at it again with +different eyes. Think things over. Remember what came to me out of the West. I +will always love you—and I will be here—hoping—” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I cannot listen,” she returned, brokenly, and she clenched +her hands tightly to keep from wringing them. “I—I cannot face +you.... Here is—your ring.... You—are—free.... Don’t +stop me—don’t come.... Oh, Glenn, good-by!” +</p> + +<p> +With breaking heart she whirled away from him and hurried down the slope toward +the trail. The shade of the forest enveloped her. Peering back through the +trees, she saw Glenn standing where she had left him, as if already stricken by +the loneliness that must be his lot. A sob broke from Carley’s throat. +She hated herself. She was in a terrible state of conflict. Decision had been +wrenched from her, but she sensed unending strife. She dared not look back +again. Stumbling and breathless, she hurried on. How changed the atmosphere and +sunlight and shadow of the canyon! The looming walls had pitiless eyes for her +flight. When she crossed the mouth of West Fork an almost irresistible force +breathed to her from under the stately pines. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later she had bidden farewell to the weeping Mrs. Hutter, and to the +white-faced Flo, and Lolomi Lodge, and the murmuring waterfall, and the +haunting loneliness of Oak Creek Canyon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +At Flagstaff, where Carley arrived a few minutes before train time, she was too +busily engaged with tickets and baggage to think of herself or of the +significance of leaving Arizona. But as she walked into the Pullman she +overheard a passenger remark, “Regular old Arizona sunset,” and +that shook her heart. Suddenly she realized she had come to love the colorful +sunsets, to watch and wait for them. And bitterly she thought how that was her +way to learn the value of something when it was gone. +</p> + +<p> +The jerk and start of the train affected her with singular depressing shock. +She had burned her last bridge behind her. Had she unconsciously hoped for some +incredible reversion of Glenn’s mind or of her own? A sense of +irreparable loss flooded over her—the first check to shame and +humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +From her window she looked out to the southwest. Somewhere across the cedar and +pine-greened uplands lay Oak Creek Canyon, going to sleep in its purple and +gold shadows of sunset. Banks of broken clouds hung to the horizon, like +continents and islands and reefs set in a turquoise sea. Shafts of sunlight +streaked down through creamy-edged and purple-centered clouds. Vast flare of +gold dominated the sunset background. +</p> + +<p> +When the train rounded a curve Carley’s strained vision became filled +with the upheaved bulk of the San Francisco Mountains. Ragged gray grass slopes +and green forests on end, and black fringed sky lines, all pointed to the sharp +clear peaks spearing the sky. And as she watched, the peaks slowly flushed with +sunset hues, and the sky flared golden, and the strength of the eternal +mountains stood out in sculptured sublimity. Every day for two months and more +Carley had watched these peaks, at all hours, in every mood; and they had +unconsciously become a part of her thought. The train was relentlessly whirling +her eastward. Soon they must become a memory. Tears blurred her sight. Poignant +regret seemed added to the anguish she was suffering. Why had she not learned +sooner to see the glory of the mountains, to appreciate the beauty and +solitude? Why had she not understood herself? +</p> + +<p> +The next day through New Mexico she followed magnificent ranges and +valleys—so different from the country she had seen coming West—so +supremely beautiful that she wondered if she had only acquired the harvest of a +seeing eye. +</p> + +<p> +But it was at sunset of the following day, when the train was speeding down the +continental slope of prairie land beyond the Rockies, that the West took its +ruthless revenge. +</p> + +<p> +Masses of strange cloud and singular light upon the green prairie, and a +luminosity in the sky, drew Carley to the platform of her car, which was the +last of the train. There she stood, gripping the iron gate, feeling the wind +whip her hair and the iron-tracked ground speed from under her, spellbound and +stricken at the sheer wonder and glory of the firmament, and the mountain range +that it canopied so exquisitely. +</p> + +<p> +A rich and mellow light, singularly clear, seemed to flood out of some unknown +source. For the sun was hidden. The clouds just above Carley hung low, and they +were like thick, heavy smoke, mushrooming, coalescing, forming and massing, of +strange yellow cast of nature. It shaded westward into heliotrope and this into +a purple so royal, so matchless and rare that Carley understood why the purple +of the heavens could never be reproduced in paint. Here the cloud mass thinned +and paled, and a tint of rose began to flush the billowy, flowery, creamy +white. Then came the surpassing splendor of this cloud pageant—a vast +canopy of shell pink, a sun-fired surface like an opal sea, rippled and webbed, +with the exquisite texture of an Oriental fabric, pure, delicate, +lovely—as no work of human hands could be. It mirrored all the warm, +pearly tints of the inside whorl of the tropic nautilus. And it ended abruptly, +a rounded depth of bank, on a broad stream of clear sky, intensely blue, +transparently blue, as if through the lambent depths shone the infinite +firmament. The lower edge of this stream took the golden lightning of the +sunset and was notched for all its horizon-long length by the wondrous white +glistening-peaked range of the Rockies. Far to the north, standing aloof from +the range, loomed up the grand black bulk and noble white dome of Pikes Peak. +</p> + +<p> +Carley watched the sunset transfiguration of cloud and sky and mountain until +all were cold and gray. And then she returned to her seat, thoughtful and sad, +feeling that the West had mockingly flung at her one of its transient moments +of loveliness. +</p> + +<p> +Nor had the West wholly finished with her. Next day the mellow gold of the +Kansas wheat fields, endless and boundless as a sunny sea, rich, waving in the +wind, stretched away before her aching eyes for hours and hours. Here was the +promise fulfilled, the bountiful harvest of the land, the strength of the West. +The great middle state had a heart of gold. +</p> + +<p> +East of Chicago Carley began to feel that the long days and nights of riding, +the ceaseless turning of the wheels, the constant and wearing stress of +emotion, had removed her an immeasurable distance of miles and time and feeling +from the scene of her catastrophe. Many days seemed to have passed. Many had +been the hours of her bitter regret and anguish. +</p> + +<p> +Indiana and Ohio, with their green pastoral farms, and numberless villages, and +thriving cities, denoted a country far removed and different from the West, and +an approach to the populous East. Carley felt like a wanderer coming home. She +was restlessly and impatiently glad. But her weariness of body and mind, and +the close atmosphere of the car, rendered her extreme discomfort. Summer had +laid its hot hand on the low country east of the Mississippi. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had wired her aunt and two of her intimate friends to meet her at the +Grand Central Station. This reunion soon to come affected Carley in recurrent +emotions of relief, gladness, and shame. She did not sleep well, and arose +early, and when the train reached Albany she felt that she could hardly endure +the tedious hours. The majestic Hudson and the palatial mansions on the wooded +bluffs proclaimed to Carley that she was back in the East. How long a time +seemed to have passed! Either she was not the same or the aspect of everything +had changed. But she believed that as soon as she got over the ordeal of +meeting her friends, and was home again, she would soon see things rationally. +</p> + +<p> +At last the train sheered away from the broad Hudson and entered the environs +of New York. Carley sat perfectly still, to all outward appearances a calm, +superbly-poised New York woman returning home, but inwardly raging with +contending tides. In her own sight she was a disgraceful failure, a prodigal +sneaking back to the ease and protection of loyal friends who did not know her +truly. Every familiar landmark in the approach to the city gave her a thrill, +yet a vague unsatisfied something lingered after each sensation. +</p> + +<p> +Then the train with rush and roar crossed the Harlem River to enter New York +City. As one waking from a dream Carley saw the blocks and squares of gray +apartment houses and red buildings, the miles of roofs and chimneys, the long +hot glaring streets full of playing children and cars. Then above the roar of +the train sounded the high notes of a hurdy-gurdy. Indeed she was home. Next to +startle her was the dark tunnel, and then the slowing of the train to a stop. +As she walked behind a porter up the long incline toward the station gate her +legs seemed to be dead. +</p> + +<p> +In the circle of expectant faces beyond the gate she saw her aunt’s, +eager and agitated, then the handsome pale face of Eleanor Harmon, and beside +her the sweet thin one of Beatrice Lovell. As they saw her how quick the change +from expectancy to joy! It seemed they all rushed upon her, and embraced her, +and exclaimed over her together. Carley never recalled what she said. But her +heart was full. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how perfectly stunning you look!” cried Eleanor, backing away +from Carley and gazing with glad, surprised eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley!” gasped Beatrice. “You wonderful golden-skinned +goddess!... You’re <i>young</i> again, like you were in our school +days.” +</p> + +<p> +It was before Aunt Mary’s shrewd, penetrating, loving gaze that Carley +quailed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Carley, you look well—better than I ever saw you, +but—but—” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t look happy,” interrupted Carley. “I am +happy to get home—to see you all... But—my—my heart is +broken!” +</p> + +<p> +A little shocked silence ensued, then Carley found herself being led across the +lower level and up the wide stairway. As she mounted to the vast-domed +cathedral-like chamber of the station a strange sensation pierced her with a +pang. Not the old thrill of leaving New York or returning! Nor was it the +welcome sight of the hurrying, well-dressed throng of travelers and commuters, +nor the stately beauty of the station. Carley shut her eyes, and then she knew. +The dim light of vast space above, the looming gray walls, shadowy with tracery +of figures, the lofty dome like the blue sky, brought back to her the walls of +Oak Creek Canyon and the great caverns under the ramparts. As suddenly as she +had shut her eyes Carley opened them to face her friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me get it over—quickly,” she burst out, with hot blood +surging to her face. “I—I hated the West. It was so raw—so +violent—so big. I think I hate it more—now.... But it changed +me—made me over physically—and did something to my soul—God +knows what.... And it has saved Glenn. Oh! he is wonderful! You would never +know him.... For long I had not the courage to tell him I came to bring him +back East. I kept putting it off. And I rode, I climbed, I camped, I lived +outdoors. At first it nearly killed me. Then it grew bearable, and easier, +until I forgot. I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit now that +somehow I had a wonderful time, in spite of all.... Glenn’s business is +raising hogs. He has a hog ranch. Doesn’t it sound sordid? But things are +not always what they sound—or seem. Glenn is absorbed in his work. I +hated it—I expected to ridicule it. But I ended by infinitely respecting +him. I learned through his hog-raising the real nobility of work.... Well, at +last I found courage to ask him when he was coming back to New York. He said +‘<i>never!</i>’... I realized then my blindness, my selfishness. I +could not be his wife and live there. I could not. I was too small, too +miserable, too comfort-loving—too spoiled. And all the time he knew +this—<i>knew</i> I’d never be big enough to marry him.... That +broke my heart. I left him free—and here I am.... I beg +you—don’t ask me any more—and never to mention it to +me—so I can forget.” +</p> + +<p> +The tender unspoken sympathy of women who loved her proved comforting in that +trying hour. With the confession ruthlessly made the hard compression in +Carley’s breast subsided, and her eyes cleared of a hateful dimness. When +they reached the taxi stand outside the station Carley felt a rush of hot +devitalized air from the street. She seemed not to be able to get air into her +lungs. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it dreadfully hot?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a cool spell to what we had last week,” replied Eleanor. +</p> + +<p> +“Cool!” exclaimed Carley, as she wiped her moist face. “I +wonder if you Easterners know the real significance of words.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they entered a taxi, to be whisked away apparently through a labyrinthine +maze of cars and streets, where pedestrians had to run and jump for their +lives. A congestion of traffic at Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street halted +their taxi for a few moments, and here in the thick of it Carley had full +assurance that she was back in the metropolis. Her sore heart eased somewhat at +sight of the streams of people passing to and fro. How they rushed! Where were +they going? What was their story? And all the while her aunt held her hand, and +Beatrice and Eleanor talked as fast as their tongues could wag. Then the taxi +clattered on up the Avenue, to turn down a side street and presently stop at +Carley’s home. It was a modest three-story brown-stone house. Carley had +been so benumbed by sensations that she did not imagine she could experience a +new one. But peering out of the taxi, she gazed dubiously at the brownish-red +stone steps and front of her home. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to have it painted,” she muttered, as if to +herself. +</p> + +<p> +Her aunt and her friends laughed, glad and relieved to hear such a practical +remark from Carley. How were they to divine that this brownish-red stone was +the color of desert rocks and canyon walls? +</p> + +<p> +In a few more moments Carley was inside the house, feeling a sense of +protection in the familiar rooms that had been her home for seventeen years. +Once in the sanctity of her room, which was exactly as she had left it, her +first action was to look in the mirror at her weary, dusty, heated face. +Neither the brownness of it nor the shadow appeared to harmonize with the image +of her that haunted the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +“Now!” she whispered low. “It’s done. I’m home. +The old life—or a new life? How to meet either. Now!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus she challenged her spirit. And her intelligence rang at her the imperative +necessity for action, for excitement, for effort that left no time for rest or +memory or wakefulness. She accepted the issue. She was glad of the stern fight +ahead of her. She set her will and steeled her heart with all the pride and +vanity and fury of a woman who had been defeated but who scorned defeat. She +was what birth and breeding and circumstance had made her. She would seek what +the old life held. +</p> + +<p> +What with unpacking and chatting and telephoning and lunching, the day soon +passed. Carley went to dinner with friends and later to a roof garden. The +color and light, the gayety and music, the news of acquaintances, the humor of +the actors—all, in fact, except the unaccustomed heat and noise, were +most welcome and diverting. That night she slept the sleep of weariness. +</p> + +<p> +Awakening early, she inaugurated a habit of getting up at once, instead of +lolling in bed, and breakfasting there, and reading her mail, as had been her +wont before going West. Then she went over business matters with her aunt, +called on her lawyer and banker, took lunch with Rose Maynard, and spent the +afternoon shopping. Strong as she was, the unaccustomed heat and the hard +pavements and the jostle of shoppers and the continual rush of sensations wore +her out so completely that she did not want any dinner. She talked to her aunt +a while, then went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Next day Carley motored through Central Park, and out of town into Westchester +County, finding some relief from the stiffing heat. But she seemed to look at +the dusty trees and the worn greens without really seeing them. In the +afternoon she called on friends, and had dinner at home with her aunt, and then +went to a theatre. The musical comedy was good, but the almost unbearable heat +and the vitiated air spoiled her enjoyment. That night upon arriving home at +midnight she stepped out of the taxi, and involuntarily, without thought, +looked up to see the stars. But there were no stars. A murky yellow-tinged +blackness hung low over the city. Carley recollected that stars, and sunrises +and sunsets, and untainted air, and silence were not for city dwellers. She +checked any continuation of the thought. +</p> + +<p> +A few days sufficed to swing her into the old life. Many of Carley’s +friends had neither the leisure nor the means to go away from the city during +the summer. Some there were who might have afforded that if they had seen fit +to live in less showy apartments, or to dispense with cars. Other of her best +friends were on their summer outings in the Adirondacks. Carley decided to go +with her aunt to Lake Placid about the first of August. Meanwhile she would +keep going and doing. +</p> + +<p> +She had been a week in town before Morrison telephoned her and added his +welcome. Despite the gay gladness of his voice, it irritated her. Really, she +scarcely wanted to see him. But a meeting was inevitable, and besides, going +out with him was in accordance with the plan she had adopted. So she made an +engagement to meet him at the Plaza for dinner. When with slow and pondering +action she hung up the receiver it occurred to her that she resented the idea +of going to the Plaza. She did not dwell on the reason why. +</p> + +<p> +When Carley went into the reception room of the Plaza that night Morrison was +waiting for her—the same slim, fastidious, elegant, sallow-faced Morrison +whose image she had in mind, yet somehow different. He had what Carley called +the New York masculine face, blasé and lined, with eyes that gleamed, yet had +no fire. But at sight of her his face lighted up. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove! but you’ve come back a peach!” he exclaimed, +clasping her extended hand. “Eleanor told me you looked great. It’s +worth missing you to see you like this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Larry,” she replied. “I must look pretty well to win +that compliment from you. And how are you feeling? You don’t seem robust +for a golfer and horseman. But then I’m used to husky Westerners.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m fagged with the daily grind,” he said. +“I’ll be glad to get up in the mountains next month. Let’s go +down to dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +They descended the spiral stairway to the grillroom, where an orchestra was +playing jazz, and dancers gyrated on a polished floor, and diners in evening +dress looked on over their cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Carley, are you still finicky about the eats?” he queried, +consulting the menu. +</p> + +<p> +“No. But I prefer plain food,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a cigarette,” he said, holding out his silver monogrammed +case. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Larry. I—I guess I’ll not take up smoking again. You +see, while I was West I got out of the habit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they told me you had changed,” he returned. “How about +drinking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I thought New York had gone dry!” she said, forcing a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Only on the surface. Underneath it’s wetter than ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll obey the law.” +</p> + +<p> +He ordered a rather elaborate dinner, and then turning his attention to Carley, +gave her closer scrutiny. Carley knew then that he had become acquainted with +the fact of her broken engagement. It was a relief not to need to tell him. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s that big stiff, Kilbourne?” asked Morrison, suddenly. +“Is it true he got well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—yes! He’s fine,” replied Carley with eyes cast +down. A hot knot seemed to form deep within her and threatened to break and +steal along her veins. “But if you please—I do not care to talk of +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally. But I must tell you that one man’s loss is +another’s gain.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley had rather expected renewed courtship from Morrison. She had not, +however, been prepared for the beat of her pulse, the quiver of her nerves, the +uprising of hot resentment at the mere mention of Kilbourne. It was only +natural that Glenn’s former rivals should speak of him, and perhaps +disparagingly. But from this man Carley could not bear even a casual reference. +Morrison had escaped the army service. He had been given a high-salaried post +at the ship-yards—the duties of which, if there had been any, he +performed wherever he happened to be. Morrison’s father had made a +fortune in leather during the war. And Carley remembered Glenn telling her he +had seen two whole blocks in Paris piled twenty feet deep with leather army +goods that were never used and probably had never been intended to be used. +Morrison represented the not inconsiderable number of young men in New York who +had gained at the expense of the valiant legion who had lost. But what had +Morrison gained? Carley raised her eyes to gaze steadily at him. He looked +well-fed, indolent, rich, effete, and supremely self-satisfied. She could not +see that he had gained anything. She would rather have been a crippled ruined +soldier. +</p> + +<p> +“Larry, I fear gain and loss are mere words,” she said. “The +thing that counts with me is what you <i>are</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared in well-bred surprise, and presently talked of a new dance which had +lately come into vogue. And from that he passed on to gossip of the theatres. +Once between courses of the dinner he asked Carley to dance, and she complied. +The music would have stimulated an Egyptian mummy, Carley thought, and the +subdued rose lights, the murmur of gay voices, the glide and grace and +distortion of the dancers, were exciting and pleasurable. Morrison had the +suppleness and skill of a dancing-master. But he held Carley too tightly, and +so she told him, and added, “I imbibed some fresh pure air while I was +out West—something you haven’t here—and I don’t want it +all squeezed out of me.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +The latter days of July Carley made busy—so busy that she lost her tan +and appetite, and something of her splendid resistance to the dragging heat and +late hours. Seldom was she without some of her friends. She accepted almost any +kind of an invitation, and went even to Coney Island, to baseball games, to the +motion pictures, which were three forms of amusement not customary with her. At +Coney Island, which she visited with two of her younger girl friends, she had +the best time since her arrival home. What had put her in accord with ordinary +people? The baseball games, likewise pleased her. The running of the players +and the screaming of the spectators amused and excited her. But she hated the +motion pictures with their salacious and absurd misrepresentations of life, in +some cases capably acted by skillful actors, and in others a silly series of +scenes featuring some doll-faced girl. +</p> + +<p> +But she refused to go horseback riding in Central Park. She refused to go to +the Plaza. And these refusals she made deliberately, without asking herself +why. +</p> + +<p> +On August 1st she accompanied her aunt and several friends to Lake Placid, +where they established themselves at a hotel. How welcome to Carley’s +strained eyes were the green of mountains, the soft gleam of amber water! How +sweet and refreshing a breath of cool pure air! The change from New +York’s glare and heat and dirt, and iron-red insulating walls, and +thronging millions of people, and ceaseless roar and rush, was tremendously +relieving to Carley. She had burned the candle at both ends. But the beauty of +the hills and vales, the quiet of the forest, the sight of the stars, made it +harder to forget. She had to rest. And when she rested she could not always +converse, or read, or write. +</p> + +<p> +For the most part her days held variety and pleasure. The place was beautiful, +the weather pleasant, the people congenial. She motored over the forest roads, +she canoed along the margin of the lake, she played golf and tennis. She wore +exquisite gowns to dinner and danced during the evenings. But she seldom walked +anywhere on the trails and, never alone, and she never climbed the mountains +and never rode a horse. +</p> + +<p> +Morrison arrived and added his attentions to those of other men. Carley neither +accepted nor repelled them. She favored the association with married couples +and older people, and rather shunned the pairing off peculiar to vacationists +at summer hotels. She had always loved to play and romp with children, but here +she found herself growing to avoid them, somehow hurt by sound of pattering +feet and joyous laughter. She filled the days as best she could, and usually +earned quick slumber at night. She staked all on present occupation and the +truth of flying time. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +The latter part of September Carley returned to New York. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after her arrival she received by letter a formal proposal of marriage +from Elbert Harrington, who had been quietly attentive to her during her +sojourn at Lake Placid. He was a lawyer of distinction, somewhat older than +most of her friends, and a man of means and fine family. Carley was quite +surprised. Harrington was really one of the few of her acquaintances whom she +regarded as somewhat behind the times, and liked him the better for that. But +she could not marry him, and replied to his letter in as kindly a manner as +possible. Then he called personally. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I’ve come to ask you to reconsider,” he said, with a +smile in his gray eyes. He was not a tall or handsome man, but he had what +women called a nice strong face. +</p> + +<p> +“Elbert, you embarrass me,” she replied, trying to laugh it out. +“Indeed I feel honored, and I thank you. But I can’t marry +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” he asked, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I don’t love you,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not expect you to,” he said. “I hoped in time you +might come to care. I’ve known you a good many years, Carley. Forgive me +if I tell you I see you are breaking—wearing yourself down. Maybe it is +not a husband you need so much now, but you do need a home and children. You +are wasting your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“All you say may be true, my friend,” replied Carley, with a +helpless little upflinging of hands. “Yet it does not alter my +feelings.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will marry sooner or later?” he queried, persistently. +</p> + +<p> +This straightforward question struck Carley as singularly as if it was one she +might never have encountered. It forced her to think of things she had buried. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe I ever will,” she answered, thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“That is nonsense, Carley,” he went on. “You’ll have to +marry. What else can you do? With all due respect to your feelings—that +affair with Kilbourne is ended—and you’re not the wishy-washy +heartbreak kind of a girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can never tell what a woman will do,” she said, somewhat +coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not. That’s why I refuse to take no. Carley, be +reasonable. You like me—respect me, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course I do!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only thirty-five, and I could give you all any sensible woman +wants,” he said. “Let’s make a real American home. Have you +thought at all about that, Carley? Something is wrong today. Men are not +marrying. Wives are not having children. Of all the friends I have, not one has +a real American home. Why, it is a terrible fact! But, Carley, you are not a +sentimentalist, or a melancholiac. Nor are you a waster. You have fine +qualities. You need something to do, some one to care for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray do not think me ungrateful, Elbert,” she replied, “nor +insensible to the truth of what you say. But my answer is no!” +</p> + +<p> +When Harrington had gone Carley went to her room, and precisely as upon her +return from Arizona she faced her mirror skeptically and relentlessly. “I +am such a liar that I’ll do well to look at myself,” she meditated. +“Here I am again. Now! The world expects me to marry. But <i>what</i> do +I expect?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a raw unheated wound in Carley’s heart. Seldom had she +permitted herself to think about it, let alone to probe it with hard +materialistic queries. But custom to her was as inexorable as life. If she +chose to live in the world she must conform to its customs. For a woman +marriage was the aim and the end and the all of existence. Nevertheless, for +Carley it could not be without love. Before she had gone West she might have +had many of the conventional modern ideas about women and marriage. But because +out there in the wilds her love and perception had broadened, now her +arraignment of herself and her sex was bigger, sterner, more exacting. The +months she had been home seemed fuller than all the months of her life. She had +tried to forget and enjoy; she had not succeeded; but she had looked with +far-seeing eyes at her world. Glenn Kilbourne’s tragic fate had opened +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Either the world was all wrong or the people in it were. But if that were an +extravagant and erroneous supposition, there certainly was proof positive that +her own small individual world was wrong. The women did not do any real work; +they did not bear children; they lived on excitement and luxury. They had no +ideals. How greatly were men to blame? Carley doubted her judgment here. But as +men could not live without the smiles and comradeship and love of women, it was +only natural that they should give the women what they wanted. Indeed, they had +no choice. It was give or go without. How much of real love entered into the +marriages among her acquaintances? Before marriage Carley wanted a girl to be +sweet, proud, aloof, with a heart of golden fire. Not attainable except through +love! It would be better that no children be born at all unless born of such +beautiful love. Perhaps that was why so few children were born. Nature’s +balance and revenge! In Arizona Carley had learned something of the +ruthlessness and inevitableness of nature. She was finding out she had learned +this with many other staggering facts. +</p> + +<p> +“I love Glenn still,” she whispered, passionately, with trembling +lips, as she faced the tragic-eyed image of herself in the mirror. “I +love him more—more. Oh, my God! If I were honest I’d cry out the +truth! It is terrible. ... I will always love him. How then could I marry any +other man? I would be a lie, a cheat. If I could only forget him—only +kill that love. Then I might love another man—and if I did love +him—no matter what I had felt or done before, I would be worthy. I could +feel worthy. I could give him just as much. But without such love I’d +give only a husk—a body without soul.” +</p> + +<p> +Love, then, was the sacred and holy flame of life that sanctioned the begetting +of children. Marriage might be a necessity of modern time, but it was not the +vital issue. Carley’s anguish revealed strange and hidden truths. In some +inexplicable way Nature struck a terrible balance—revenged herself upon a +people who had no children, or who brought into the world children not created +by the divinity of love, unyearned for, and therefore somehow doomed to carry +on the blunders and burdens of life. +</p> + +<p> +Carley realized how right and true it might be for her to throw herself away +upon an inferior man, even a fool or a knave, if she loved him with that great +and natural love of woman; likewise it dawned upon her how false and wrong and +sinful it would be to marry the greatest or the richest or the noblest man +unless she had that supreme love to give him, and knew it was reciprocated. +</p> + +<p> +“What am I going to do with my life?” she asked, bitterly and +aghast. “I have been—I am a waster. I’ve lived for nothing +but pleasurable sensation. I’m utterly useless. I do absolutely no good +on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus she saw how Harrington’s words rang true—how they had +precipitated a crisis for which her unconscious brooding had long made +preparation. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not give up ideals and be like the rest of my kind?” she +soliloquized. +</p> + +<p> +That was one of the things which seemed wrong with modern life. She thrust the +thought from her with passionate scorn. If poor, broken, ruined Glenn Kilbourne +could cling to an ideal and fight for it, could not she, who had all the world +esteemed worth while, be woman enough to do the same? The direction of her +thought seemed to have changed. She had been ready for rebellion. Three months +of the old life had shown her that for her it was empty, vain, farcical, +without one redeeming feature. The naked truth was brutal, but it cut clean to +wholesome consciousness. Such so-called social life as she had plunged into +deliberately to forget her unhappiness had failed her utterly. If she had been +shallow and frivolous it might have done otherwise. Stripped of all guise, her +actions must have been construed by a penetrating and impartial judge as a mere +parading of her decorated person before a number of males with the purpose of +ultimate selection. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got to find some work,” she muttered, soberly. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment she heard the postman’s whistle outside; and a little later +the servant brought up her mail. The first letter, large, soiled, thick, bore +the postmark Flagstaff, and her address in Glenn Kilbourne’s writing. +</p> + +<p> +Carley stared at it. Her heart gave a great leap. Her hand shook. She sat down +suddenly as if the strength of her legs was inadequate to uphold her. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn has—written me!” she whispered, in slow, halting +realization. “For what? Oh, why?” +</p> + +<p> +The other letters fell off her lap, to lie unnoticed. This big thick envelope +fascinated her. It was one of the stamped envelopes she had seen in his cabin. +It contained a letter that had been written on his rude table, before the open +fire, in the light of the doorway, in that little log-cabin under the spreading +pines of West Ford Canyon. Dared she read it? The shock to her heart passed; +and with mounting swell, seemingly too full for her breast, it began to beat +and throb a wild gladness through all her being. She tore the envelope apart +and read: +</p> + +<div class="letter"> + +<p> +D<small>EAR</small> C<small>ARLEY</small>: +</p> + +<p> +I’m surely glad for a good excuse to write you. +</p> + +<p> +Once in a blue moon I get a letter, and today Hutter brought me one from a +soldier pard of mine who was with me in the Argonne. His name is Virgil +Rust—queer name, don’t you think?—and he’s from +Wisconsin. Just a rough-diamond sort of chap, but fairly well educated. He and +I were in some pretty hot places, and it was he who pulled me out of a shell +crater. I’d “gone west” sure then if it hadn’t been for +Rust. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he did all sorts of big things during the war. Was down several times +with wounds. He liked to fight and he was a holy terror. We all thought +he’d get medals and promotion. But he didn’t get either. These +much-desired things did not always go where they were best deserved. +</p> + +<p> +Rust is now lying in a hospital in Bedford Park. His letter is pretty blue. All +he says about why he’s there is that he’s knocked out. But he wrote +a heap about his girl. It seems he was in love with a girl in his home +town—a pretty, big-eyed lass whose picture I’ve seen—and +while he was overseas she married one of the chaps who got out of fighting. +Evidently Rust is deeply hurt. He wrote: “I’d not care so... if +she’d thrown me down to marry an old man or a boy who couldn’t have +gone to war.” You see, Carley, service men feel queer about that sort of +thing. It’s something we got over there, and none of us will ever outlive +it. Now, the point of this is that I am asking you to go see Rust, and cheer +him up, and do what you can for the poor devil. It’s a good deal to ask +of you, I know, especially as Rust saw <i>your</i> picture many a time and +knows you were my girl. But you needn’t tell him that you—we +couldn’t make a go of it. +</p> + +<p> +And, as I am writing this to you, I see no reason why I shouldn’t go on +in behalf of myself. +</p> + +<p> +The fact is, Carley, I miss writing to you more than I miss anything of my old +life. I’ll bet you have a trunkful of letters from me—unless +you’ve destroyed them. I’m not going to say how I miss <i>your</i> +letters. But I will say you wrote the most charming and fascinating letters of +anyone I ever knew, quite aside from any sentiment. You knew, of course, that I +had no other girl correspondent. Well, I got along fairly well before you came +West, but I’d be an awful liar if I denied I didn’t get lonely for +you and your letters. It’s different now that you’ve been to Oak +Creek. I’m alone most of the time and I dream a lot, and I’m afraid +I see you here in my cabin, and along the brook, and under the pines, and +riding Calico—which you came to do well—and on my hogpen +fence—and, oh, everywhere! I don’t want you to think I’m down +in the mouth, for I’m not. I’ll take my medicine. But, Carley, you +spoiled me, and I miss hearing from you, and I don’t see why it +wouldn’t be all right for you to send me a friendly letter occasionally. +</p> + +<p> +It is autumn now. I wish you could see Arizona canyons in their gorgeous +colors. We have had frost right along and the mornings are great. There’s +a broad zigzag belt of gold halfway up the San Francisco peaks, and that is the +aspen thickets taking on their fall coat. Here in the canyon you’d think +there was blazing fire everywhere. The vines and the maples are red, scarlet, +carmine, cerise, magenta, all the hues of flame. The oak leaves are turning +russet gold, and the sycamores are yellow green. Up on the desert the other day +I rode across a patch of asters, lilac and lavender, almost purple. I had to +get off and pluck a handful. And then what do you think? I dug up the whole +bunch, roots and all, and planted them on the sunny side of my cabin. I rather +guess your love of flowers engendered this remarkable susceptibility in me. +</p> + +<p> +I’m home early most every afternoon now, and I like the couple of hours +loafing around. Guess it’s bad for me, though. You know I seldom hunt, +and the trout in the pool here are so tame now they’ll almost eat out of +my hand. I haven’t the heart to fish for them. The squirrels, too, have +grown tame and friendly. There’s a red squirrel that climbs up on my +table. And there’s a chipmunk who lives in my cabin and runs over my bed. +I’ve a new pet—the little pig you christened Pinky. After he had +the wonderful good fortune to be caressed and named by you I couldn’t +think of letting him grow up in an ordinary piglike manner. So I fetched him +home. My dog, Moze, was jealous at first and did not like this intrusion, but +now they are good friends and sleep together. Flo has a kitten she’s +going to give me, and then, as Hutter says, I’ll be “Jake.” +</p> + +<p> +My occupation during these leisure hours perhaps would strike my old friends +East as idle, silly, mawkish. But I believe you will understand me. +</p> + +<p> +I have the pleasure of doing nothing, and of catching now and then a glimpse of +supreme joy in the strange state of <i>thinking</i> nothing. Tennyson came +close to this in his “Lotus Eaters.” Only to see—only to feel +is enough! +</p> + +<p> +Sprawled on the warm sweet pine needles, I breathe through them the breath of +the earth and am somehow no longer lonely. I cannot, of course, see the sunset, +but I watch for its coming on the eastern wall of the canyon. I see the shadow +slowly creep up, driving the gold before it, until at last the canyon rim and +pines are turned to golden fire. I watch the sailing eagles as they streak +across the gold, and swoop up into the blue, and pass out of sight. I watch the +golden flush fade to gray, and then, the canyon slowly fills with purple +shadows. This hour of twilight is the silent and melancholy one. Seldom is +there any sound save the soft rush of the water over the stones, and that seems +to die away. For a moment, perhaps, I am Hiawatha alone in his forest home, or +a more primitive savage, feeling the great, silent pulse of nature, happy in +unconsciousness, like a beast of the wild. But only for an instant do I ever +catch this fleeting state. Next I am Glenn Kilbourne of West Fork, doomed and +haunted by memories of the past. The great looming walls then become no longer +blank. They are vast pages of the history of my life, with its past and +present, and, alas! its future. Everything time does is written on the stones. +And my stream seems to murmur the sad and ceaseless flow of human life, with +its music and its misery. +</p> + +<p> +Then, descending from the sublime to the humdrum and necessary, I heave a sigh, +and pull myself together, and go in to make biscuits and fry ham. But I should +not forget to tell you that before I do go in, very often my looming, wonderful +walls and crags weave in strange shadowy characters the beautiful and +unforgettable face of Carley Burch! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +I append what little news Oak Creek affords. +</p> + +<p> +That blamed old bald eagle stole another of my pigs. +</p> + +<p> +I am doing so well with my hog-raising that Hutter wants to come in with me, +giving me an interest in his sheep. +</p> + +<p> +It is rumored some one has bought the Deep Lake section I wanted for a ranch. I +don’t know who. Hutter was rather noncommittal. +</p> + +<p> +Charley, the herder, had one of his queer spells the other day, and swore to me +he had a letter from you. He told the blamed lie with a sincere and placid eye, +and even a smile of pride. Queer guy, that Charley! +</p> + +<p> +Flo and Lee Stanton had another quarrel—the worst yet, Lee tells me. Flo +asked a girl friend out from Flag and threw her in Lee’s way, so to +speak, and when Lee retaliated by making love to the girl Flo got mad. Funny +creatures, you girls! Flo rode with me from High Falls to West Fork, and never +showed the slightest sign of trouble. In fact she was delightfully gay. She +rode Calico, and beat me bad in a race. +</p> +</div> + +<p class="right"> +<i>Adios</i>, Carley. Won’t you write me?<br/> +G<small>LENN</small>. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner had Carley read the letter through to the end than she began it all +over again, and on this second perusal she lingered over passages—only to +reread them. That suggestion of her face sculptured by shadows on the canyon +walls seemed to thrill her very soul. +</p> + +<p> +She leaped up from the reading to cry out something that was unutterable. All +the intervening weeks of shame and anguish and fury and strife and pathos, and +the endless striving to forget, were as if by the magic of a letter made +nothing but vain oblations. +</p> + +<p> +“He loves me still!” she whispered, and pressed her breast with +clenching hands, and laughed in wild exultance, and paced her room like a caged +lioness. It was as if she had just awakened to the assurance she was beloved. +That was the shibboleth—the cry by which she sounded the closed depths of +her love and called to the stricken life of a woman’s insatiate vanity. +</p> + +<p> +Then she snatched up the letter, to scan it again, and, suddenly grasping the +import of Glenn’s request, she hurried to the telephone to find the +number of the hospital in Bedford Park. A nurse informed her that visitors were +received at certain hours and that any attention to disabled soldiers was most +welcome. +</p> + +<p> +Carley motored out there to find the hospital merely a long one-story frame +structure, a barracks hastily thrown up for the care of invalided men of the +service. The chauffeur informed her that it had been used for that purpose +during the training period of the army, and later when injured soldiers began +to arrive from France. +</p> + +<p> +A nurse admitted Carley into a small bare anteroom. Carley made known her +errand. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad it’s Rust you want to see,” replied the +nurse. “Some of these boys are going to die. And some will be worse off +if they live. But Rust may get well if he’ll only behave. You are a +relative—or friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know him,” answered Carley. “But I have a +friend who was with him in France.” +</p> + +<p> +The nurse led Carley into a long narrow room with a line of single beds down +each side, a stove at each end, and a few chairs. Each bed appeared to have an +occupant and those nearest Carley lay singularly quiet. At the far end of the +room were soldiers on crutches, wearing bandages on their beads, carrying their +arms in slings. Their merry voices contrasted discordantly with their sad +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Carley stood beside a bed and looked down upon a gaunt, haggard young +man who lay propped up on pillows. +</p> + +<p> +“Rust—a lady to see you,” announced the nurse. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had difficulty in introducing herself. Had Glenn ever looked like this? +What a face! It’s healed scar only emphasized the pallor and furrows of +pain that assuredly came from present wounds. He had unnaturally bright dark +eyes, and a flush of fever in his hollow cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“How do!” he said, with a wan smile. “Who’re +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Glenn Kilbourne’s fiancée,” she replied, holding +out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, I ought to’ve known you,” he said, eagerly, and a +warmth of light changed the gray shade of his face. “You’re the +girl Carley! You’re almost like my—my own girl. By golly! +You’re some looker! It was good of you to come. Tell me about +Glenn.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley took the chair brought by the nurse, and pulling it close to the bed, +she smiled down upon him and said: “I’ll be glad to tell you all I +know—presently. But first you tell me about yourself. Are you in pain? +What is your trouble? You must let me do everything I can for you, and these +other men.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley spent a poignant and depth-stirring hour at the bedside of Glenn’s +comrade. At last she learned from loyal lips the nature of Glenn +Kilbourne’s service to his country. How Carley clasped to her sore heart +the praise of the man she loved—the simple proofs of his noble disregard +of self! Rust said little about his own service to country or to comrade. But +Carley saw enough in his face. He had been like Glenn. By these two Carley +grasped the compelling truth of the spirit and sacrifice of the legion of boys +who had upheld American traditions. Their children and their children’s +children, as the years rolled by into the future, would hold their heads higher +and prouder. Some things could never die in the hearts and the blood of a race. +These boys, and the girls who had the supreme glory of being loved by them, +must be the ones to revive the Americanism of their forefathers. Nature and God +would take care of the slackers, the cowards who cloaked their shame with bland +excuses of home service, of disability, and of dependence. +</p> + +<p> +Carley saw two forces in life—the destructive and constructive. On the +one side greed, selfishness, materialism: on the other generosity, sacrifice, +and idealism. Which of them builded for the future? She saw men as wolves, +sharks, snakes, vermin, and opposed to them men as lions and eagles. She saw +women who did not inspire men to fare forth to seek, to imagine, to dream, to +hope, to work, to fight. She began to have a glimmering of what a woman might +be. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +That night she wrote swiftly and feverishly, page after page, to Glenn, only to +destroy what she had written. She could not keep her heart out of her words, +nor a hint of what was becoming a sleepless and eternal regret. She wrote until +a late hour, and at last composed a letter she knew did not ring true, so +stilted and restrained was it in all passages save those concerning news of +Glenn’s comrade and of her own friends. “I’ll +never—never write him again,” she averred with stiff lips, and next +moment could have laughed in mockery at the bitter truth. If she had ever had +any courage, Glenn’s letter had destroyed it. But had it not been a kind +of selfish, false courage, roused to hide her hurt, to save her own future? +Courage should have a thought of others. Yet shamed one moment at the +consciousness she would write Glenn again and again, and exultant the next with +the clamouring love, she seemed to have climbed beyond the self that had +striven to forget. She would remember and think though she died of longing. +</p> + +<p> +Carley, like a drowning woman, caught at straws. What a relief and joy to give +up that endless nagging at her mind! For months she had kept ceaselessly +active, by associations which were of no help to her and which did not make her +happy, in her determination to forget. Suddenly then she gave up to +remembrance. She would cease trying to get over her love for Glenn, and think +of him and dream about him as much as memory dictated. This must constitute the +only happiness she could have. +</p> + +<p> +The change from strife to surrender was so novel and sweet that for days she +felt renewed. It was augmented by her visits to the hospital in Bedford Park. +Through her bountiful presence Virgil Rust and his comrades had many dull hours +of pain and weariness alleviated and brightened. Interesting herself in the +condition of the seriously disabled soldiers and possibility of their future +took time and work Carley gave willingly and gladly. At first she endeavored to +get acquaintances with means and leisure to help the boys, but these overtures +met with such little success that she quit wasting valuable time she could +herself devote to their interests. +</p> + +<p> +Thus several weeks swiftly passed by. Several soldiers who had been more +seriously injured than Rust improved to the extent that they were discharged. +But Rust gained little or nothing. The nurse and doctor both informed Carley +that Rust brightened for her, but when she was gone he lapsed into somber +indifference. He did not care whether he ate or not, or whether he got well or +died. +</p> + +<p> +“If I do pull out, where’ll I go and what’ll I do?” he +once asked the nurse. +</p> + +<p> +Carley knew that Rust’s hurt was more than loss of a leg, and she decided +to talk earnestly to him and try to win him to hope and effort. He had come to +have a sort of reverence for her. So, biding her time, she at length found +opportunity to approach his bed while his comrades were asleep or out of +hearing. He endeavored to laugh her off, and then tried subterfuge, and lastly +he cast off his mask and let her see his naked soul. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I don’t want your money or that of your kind +friends—whoever they are—you say will help me to get into +business,” he said. “God knows I thank you and it warms me inside +to find <i>some one</i> who appreciates what I’ve given. But I +don’t want charity.... And I guess I’m pretty sick of the game. +I’m sorry the Boches didn’t do the job right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rust, that is morbid talk,” replied Carley. “You’re +ill and you just can’t see any hope. You must cheer up—fight +<i>yourself;</i> and look at the brighter side. It’s a horrible pity you +must be a cripple, but Rust, indeed life can be worth living if you make it +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could there be a brighter side when a man’s only half a +man—” he queried, bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“You can be just as much a man as ever,” persisted Carley, trying +to smile when she wanted to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you care for a man with only one leg?” he asked, +deliberately. +</p> + +<p> +“What a question! Why, of course I could!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, maybe you are different. Glenn always swore even if he was killed +no slacker or no rich guy left at home could ever get you. Maybe you +haven’t any idea how much it means to us fellows to know there <i>are</i> +true and faithful girls. But I’ll tell you, Carley, we fellows who went +across got to see things strange when we came home. The good old U. S. needs a +lot of faithful girls just now, believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed that’s true,” replied Carley. “It’s a +hard time for everybody, and particularly you boys who have lost so—so +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I lost <i>all</i>, except my life—and I wish to God I’d lost +that,” he replied, gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t talk so!” implored Carley in distress. +“Forgive me, Rust, if I hurt you. But I must tell +you—that—that Glenn wrote me—you’d lost your girl. Oh, +I’m sorry! It is dreadful for you now. But if you got well—and went +to work—and took up life where you left it—why soon your pain would +grow easier. And you’d find some happiness yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never for me in this world.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why, Rust, <i>why?</i> You’re no—no—Oh! I mean you +have intelligence and courage. Why isn’t there anything left for +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because something here’s been killed,” he replied, and put +his hand to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Your faith? Your love of—of everything? Did the war kill +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d gotten over that, maybe,” he said, drearily, with his +somber eyes on space that seemed lettered for him. “But <i>she</i> half +murdered it—and <i>they</i> did the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“They? Whom do you mean, Rust?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Carley, I mean the people I lost my leg for!” he replied, +with terrible softness. +</p> + +<p> +“The British? The French?” she queried, in bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>No!</i>” he cried, and turned his face to the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Carley dared not ask him more. She was shocked. How helplessly impotent all her +earnest sympathy! No longer could she feel an impersonal, however kindly, +interest in this man. His last ringing word had linked her also to his +misfortune and his suffering. Suddenly he turned away from the wall. She saw +him swallow laboriously. How tragic that thin, shadowed face of agony! Carley +saw it differently. But for the beautiful softness of light in his eyes, she +would have been unable to endure gazing longer. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, I’m bitter,” he said, “but I’m not +rancorous and callous, like some of the boys. I know if you’d been my +girl you’d have stuck to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Carley whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“That makes a difference,” he went on, with a sad smile. “You +see, we soldiers all had feelings. And in one thing we all felt alike. That was +we were going to fight for our homes and our women. I should say women first. +No matter what we read or heard about standing by our allies, fighting for +liberty or civilization, the truth was we all felt the same, even if we never +breathed it.... Glenn fought for you. I fought for Nell.... We were not going +to let the Huns treat you as they treated French and Belgian girls.... And +think! Nell was engaged to me—she <i>loved</i> me—and, by God! She +married a slacker when I lay half dead on the battlefield!” +</p> + +<p> +“She was not worth loving or fighting for,” said Carley, with +agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! now you’ve said something,” he declared. “If I can +only hold to that truth! What does one girl amount to? <i>I</i> do not count. +It is the sum that counts. We love America—our homes—our women!... +Carley, I’ve had comfort and strength come to me through you. Glenn will +have his reward in your love. Somehow I seem to share it, a little. Poor Glenn! +He got his, too. Why, Carley, that guy wouldn’t <i>let</i> you do what he +could do <i>for you</i>. He was cut to pieces—” +</p> + +<p> +“Please—Rust—don’t say any more. I am unstrung,” +she pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It’s due you to know how splendid Glenn was.... I tell +you, Carley, all the boys here love you for the way you’ve stuck to +Glenn. Some of them knew him, and I’ve told the rest. We thought +he’d never pull through. But he has, and we know how you helped. Going +West to see him! He didn’t write it to me, but I know.... I’m wise. +I’m happy for him—the lucky dog. Next time you go +West—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” cried Carley. She could endure no more. She could no longer +be a lie. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re white—you’re shaking,” exclaimed Rust, in +concern. “Oh, I—what did I say? Forgive me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Rust, I am no more worth loving and fighting for than your Nell.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” he ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not told you the truth,” she said, swiftly. “I have +let you believe a lie.... I shall never marry Glenn. I broke my engagement to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Rust sank back upon the pillow, his large luminous eyes piercingly fixed +upon her, as if he would read her soul. +</p> + +<p> +“I went West—yes—” continued Carley. “But it was +selfishly. I wanted Glenn to come back here.... He had suffered as you have. He +nearly died. But he fought—he fought—Oh! he went through hell! And +after a long, slow, horrible struggle he began to mend. He worked. He went to +raising hogs. He lived alone. He worked harder and harder.... The West and his +work saved him, body and soul.... He had learned to love both the West and his +work. I did not blame him. But I could not live out there. He needed me. But I +was too little—too selfish. I could not marry him. I gave him up. ... I +left—him—alone!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley shrank under the scorn in Rust’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“And there’s another man,” he said, “a clean, straight, +unscarred fellow who wouldn’t fight!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no—I—I swear there’s not,” whispered Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“You, too,” he replied, thickly. Then slowly he turned that worn +dark face to the wall. His frail breast heaved. And his lean hand made her a +slight gesture of dismissal, significant and imperious. +</p> + +<p> +Carley fled. She could scarcely see to find the car. All her internal being +seemed convulsed, and a deadly faintness made her sick and cold. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +Carley’s edifice of hopes, dreams, aspirations, and struggles fell in +ruins about her. It had been built upon false sands. It had no ideal for +foundation. It had to fall. +</p> + +<p> +Something inevitable had forced her confession to Rust. Dissimulation had been +a habit of her mind; it was more a habit of her class than sincerity. But she +had reached a point in her mental strife where she could not stand before Rust +and let him believe she was noble and faithful when she knew she was neither. +Would not the next step in this painful metamorphosis of her character be a +fierce and passionate repudiation of herself and all she represented? +</p> + +<p> +She went home and locked herself in her room, deaf to telephone and servants. +There she gave up to her shame. Scorned—despised—dismissed by that +poor crippled flame-spirited Virgil Rust! He had reverenced her, and the truth +had earned his hate. Would she ever forget his +look—incredulous—shocked—bitter—and blazing with +unutterable contempt? Carley Burch was only another Nell—a jilt—a +mocker of the manhood of soldiers! Would she ever cease to shudder at memory of +Rust’s slight movement of hand? Go! Get out of my sight! Leave me to my +agony as you left Glenn Kilbourne alone to fight his! Men such as I am do not +want the smile of your face, the touch of your hand! We gave for womanhood! +Pass on to lesser men who loved the fleshpots and who would buy your charms! So +Carley interpreted that slight gesture, and writhed in her abasement. +</p> + +<p> +Rust threw a white, illuminating light upon her desertion of Glenn. She had +betrayed him. She had left him alone. Dwarfed and stunted was her narrow soul! +To a man who had given all for her she had returned nothing. Stone for bread! +Betrayal for love! Cowardice for courage! +</p> + +<p> +The hours of contending passions gave birth to vague, slow-forming revolt. +</p> + +<p> +She became haunted by memory pictures and sounds and smells of Oak Creek +Canyon. As from afar she saw the great sculptured rent in the earth, green and +red and brown, with its shining, flashing ribbons of waterfalls and streams. +The mighty pines stood up magnificent and stately. The walls loomed high, +shadowed under the shelves, gleaming in the sunlight, and they seemed dreaming, +waiting, watching. For what? For her return to their serene fastnesses—to +the little gray log cabin. The thought stormed Carley’s soul. +</p> + +<p> +Vivid and intense shone the images before her shut eyes. She saw the winding +forest floor, green with grass and fern, colorful with flower and rock. A +thousand aisles, glades, nooks, and caverns called her to come. Nature was +every woman’s mother. The populated city was a delusion. Disease and +death and corruption stalked in the shadows of the streets. But her canyon +promised hard work, playful hours, dreaming idleness, beauty, health, +fragrance, loneliness, peace, wisdom, love, children, and long life. In the +hateful shut-in isolation of her room Carley stretched forth her arms as if to +embrace the vision. Pale close walls, gleaming placid stretches of brook, +churning amber and white rapids, mossy banks and pine-matted ledges, the towers +and turrets and ramparts where the eagles wheeled—she saw them all as +beloved images lost to her save in anguished memory. +</p> + +<p> +She heard the murmur of flowing water, soft, low, now loud, and again lulling, +hollow and eager, tinkling over rocks, bellowing into the deep pools, washing +with silky seep of wind-swept waves the hanging willows. Shrill and piercing +and far-aloft pealed the scream of the eagle. And she seemed to listen to a +mocking bird while he mocked her with his melody of many birds. The bees +hummed, the wind moaned, the leaves rustled, the waterfall murmured. Then came +the sharp rare note of a canyon swift, most mysterious of birds, significant of +the heights. +</p> + +<p> +A breath of fragrance seemed to blow with her shifting senses. The dry, sweet, +tangy canyon smells returned to her—of fresh-cut timber, of wood smoke, +of the cabin fire with its steaming pots, of flowers and earth, and of the wet +stones, of the redolent pines and the pungent cedars. +</p> + +<p> +And suddenly, clearly, amazingly, Carley beheld in her mind’s sight the +hard features, the bold eyes, the slight smile, the coarse face of Haze Ruff. +She had forgotten him. But he now returned. And with memory of him flashed a +revelation as to his meaning in her life. He had appeared merely a clout, a +ruffian, an animal with man’s shape and intelligence. But he was the +embodiment of the raw, crude violence of the West. He was the eyes of the +natural primitive man, believing what he saw. He had seen in Carley Burch the +paraded charm, the unashamed and serene front, the woman seeking man. Haze Ruff +had been neither vile nor base nor unnatural. It had been her subjection to the +decadence of feminine dress that had been unnatural. But Ruff had found her a +lie. She invited what she did not want. And his scorn had been commensurate +with the falsehood of her. So might any man have been justified in his insult +to her, in his rejection of her. Haze Ruff had found her unfit for his idea of +dalliance. Virgil Rust had found her false to the ideals of womanhood for which +he had sacrificed all but life itself. What then had Glenn Kilbourne found her? +He possessed the greatness of noble love. He had loved her before the dark and +changeful tide of war had come between them. How had he judged her? That last +sight of him standing alone, leaning with head bowed, a solitary figure +trenchant with suggestion of tragic resignation and strength, returned to flay +Carley. He had loved, trusted, and hoped. She saw now what his hope had +been—that she would have instilled into her blood the subtle, red, and +revivifying essence of calling life in the open, the strength of the wives of +earlier years, an emanation from canyon, desert, mountain, forest, of health, +of spirit, of forward-gazing natural love, of the mysterious saving instinct he +had gotten out of the West. And she had been too little too steeped in the +indulgence of luxurious life too slight-natured and pale-blooded! And suddenly +there pierced into the black storm of Carley’s mind a blazing, +white-streaked thought—she had left Glenn to the Western girl, Flo +Hutter. Humiliated, and abased in her own sight, Carley fell prey to a fury of +jealousy. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +She went back to the old life. But it was in a bitter, restless, critical +spirit, conscious of the fact that she could derive neither forgetfulness nor +pleasure from it, nor see any release from the habit of years. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, late in the fall, she motored out to a Long Island club where +the last of the season’s golf was being enjoyed by some of her most +intimate friends. Carley did not play. Aimlessly she walked around the grounds, +finding the autumn colors subdued and drab, like her mind. The air held a +promise of early winter. She thought that she would go South before the cold +came. Always trying to escape anything rigorous, hard, painful, or +disagreeable! Later she returned to the clubhouse to find her party assembled +on an inclosed porch, chatting and partaking of refreshment. Morrison was +there. He had not taken kindly to her late habit of denying herself to him. +</p> + +<p> +During a lull in the idle conversation Morrison addressed Carley pointedly. +“Well, Carley, how’s your Arizona hog-raiser?” he queried, +with a little gleam in his usually lusterless eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not heard lately,” she replied, coldly. +</p> + +<p> +The assembled company suddenly quieted with a portent inimical to their +leisurely content of the moment. Carley felt them all looking at her, and +underneath the exterior she preserved with extreme difficulty, there burned so +fierce an anger that she seemed to have swelling veins of fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Queer how Kilbourne went into raising hogs,” observed Morrison. +“Such a low-down sort of work, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“He had no choice,” replied Carley. “Glenn didn’t have +a father who made tainted millions out of the war. He had to work. And I must +differ with you about its being low-down. No honest work is that. It is +idleness that is low down.” +</p> + +<p> +“But so foolish of Glenn when he might have married money,” +rejoined Morrison, sarcastcally. +</p> + +<p> +“The honor of soldiers is beyond your ken, Mr. Morrison.” +</p> + +<p> +He flushed darkly and bit his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“You women make a man sick with this rot about soldiers,” he said, +the gleam in his eye growing ugly. “A uniform goes to a woman’s +head no matter what’s inside it. I don’t see where your vaunted +honor of soldiers comes in considering how they accepted the let-down of women +during and after the war.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could you see when you stayed comfortably at home?” retorted +Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“All I could see was women falling into soldiers’ arms,” he +said, sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. Could an American girl desire any greater happiness—or +opportunity to prove her gratitude?” flashed Carley, with proud uplift of +head. +</p> + +<p> +“It didn’t look like gratitude to me,” returned Morrison. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it <i>was</i> gratitude,” declared Carley, ringingly. +“If women of America did throw themselves at soldiers it was not owing to +the moral lapse of the day. It was woman’s instinct to save the race! +Always, in every war, women have sacrificed themselves to the future. Not vile, +but noble!... You insult both soldiers and women, Mr. Morrison. I +wonder—did any American girls throw themselves at <i>you?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Morrison turned a dead white, and his mouth twisted to a distorted checking of +speech, disagreeable to see. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you were a slacker,” went on Carley, with scathing scorn. +“You let the other men go fight for American girls. Do you imagine one of +them will ever <i>marry</i> you?... All your life, Mr. Morrison, you will be a +marked man—outside the pale of friendship with real American men and the +respect of real American girls.” +</p> + +<p> +Morrison leaped up, almost knocking the table over, and he glared at Carley as +he gathered up his hat and cane. She turned her back upon him. From that moment +he ceased to exist for Carley. She never spoke to him again. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Next day Carley called upon her dearest friend, whom she had not seen for some +time. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley dear, you don’t look so very well,” said Eleanor, +after greetings had been exchanged. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what does it matter how I look?” queried Carley, impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“You were so wonderful when you got home from Arizona.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I was wonderful and am now commonplace you can thank your old New +York for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, don’t you care for New York any more?” asked +Eleanor. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, New York is all right, I suppose. It’s I who am wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, you puzzle me these days. You’ve changed. I’m +sorry. I’m afraid you’re unhappy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me? Oh, impossible! I’m in a seventh heaven,” replied +Carley, with a hard little laugh. “What ’re you doing this +afternoon? Let’s go out—riding—or somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m expecting the dressmaker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dinner and theater. It’s a party, or I’d ask you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do yesterday and the day before, and the days before +that?” +</p> + +<p> +Eleanor laughed indulgently, and acquainted Carley with a record of her social +wanderings during the last few days. +</p> + +<p> +“The same old things—over and over again! Eleanor don’t you +get sick of it?” queried Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, to tell the truth,” returned Eleanor, thoughtfully. +“But there’s nothing else to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eleanor, I’m no better than you,” said Carley, with disdain. +“I’m as useless and idle. But I’m beginning to see +myself—and you—and all this rotten crowd of ours. We’re no +good. But you’re married, Eleanor. You’re settled in life. You +ought to <i>do something</i>. I’m single and at loose ends. Oh, I’m +in revolt!... Think, Eleanor, just think. Your husband works hard to keep you +in this expensive apartment. You have a car. He dresses you in silks and +satins. You wear diamonds. You eat your breakfast in bed. You loll around in a +pink dressing gown all morning. You dress for lunch or tea. You ride or golf or +worse than waste your time on some lounge lizard, dancing till time to come +home to dress for dinner. You let other men make love to you. Oh, don’t +get sore. You do.... And so goes the round of your life. What good on earth are +you, anyhow? You’re just a—a gratification to the senses of your +husband. And at that you don’t see much of <i>him</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, how you rave!” exclaimed her friend. “What has +gotten into you lately? Why, everybody tells me you’re—you’re +queer! The way you insulted Morrison—how unlike you, Carley!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad I found the nerve to do it. What do you think, +Eleanor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I despise him. But you can’t say the things you feel.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be bigger and truer if you did. Some day I’ll break +out and flay you and your friends alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Carley, you’re my friend and you’re just exactly like +we are. Or you were, quite recently.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I’m your friend. I’ve always loved you, +Eleanor,” went on Carley, earnestly. “I’m as deep in +this—this damned stagnant muck as you, or anyone. But I’m no longer +<i>blind</i>. There’s something terribly wrong with us women, and +it’s not what Morrison hinted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, the only thing wrong with you is that you jilted poor +Glenn—and are breaking your heart over him still.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t—don’t!” cried Carley, shrinking. +“God knows that is true. But there’s more wrong with me than a +blighted love affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you mean the modern feminine unrest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eleanor, I positively hate that phrase ‘modern feminine +unrest!’ It smacks of ultra—ultra—Oh! I don’t know +what. That phrase ought to be translated by a Western acquaintance of +mine—one Haze Ruff. I’d not like to hurt your sensitive feelings +with what he’d say. But this unrest means speed-mad, excitement-mad, +fad-mad, dress-mad, or I should say <i>un</i>dress-mad, culture-mad, and Heaven +only knows what else. The women of our set are idle, luxurious, selfish, +pleasure-craving, lazy, useless, work-and-children shirking, absolutely no +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if we are, who’s to blame?” rejoined Eleanor, +spiritedly. “Now, Carley Burch, you listen to me. I think the +twentieth-century girl in America is the most wonderful female creation of all +the ages of the universe. I admit it. That is why we are a prey to the evils +attending greatness. Listen. Here is a crying sin—an infernal paradox. +Take this twentieth-century girl, this American girl who is the finest creation +of the ages. A young and healthy girl, the most perfect type of culture +possible to the freest and greatest city on earth—New York! She holds +absolutely an unreal, untrue position in the scheme of existence. Surrounded by +parents, relatives, friends, suitors, and instructive schools of every kind, +colleges, institutions, is she really happy, is she really living?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eleanor,” interrupted Carley, earnestly, “she is +<i>not</i>.... And I’ve been trying to tell you why.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, let me get a word in, will you,” complained Eleanor. +“You don’t know it all. There are as many different points of view +as there are people.... Well, if this girl happened to have a new frock, and a +new beau to show it to, she’d say, ‘I’m the happiest girl in +the world.’ But she is nothing of the kind. Only she doesn’t know +that. She approaches marriage, or, for that matter, a more matured life, having +had too much, having been too well taken care of, <i>knowing too much</i>. Her +masculine satellites—father, brothers, uncles, friends, lovers—all +utterly spoil her. Mind you, I mean, girls like us, of the middle +class—which is to say the largest and best class of Americans. We are +spoiled.... This girl marries. And life goes on smoothly, as if its aim was to +exclude friction and effort. Her husband makes it too easy for her. She is an +ornament, or a toy, to be kept in a luxurious cage. To soil her pretty hands +would be disgraceful! Even if she can’t afford a maid, the modern devices +of science make the care of her four-room apartment a farce. Electric +dish-washer, clothes-washer, vacuum-cleaner, and the near-by delicatessen and +the caterer simply rob a young wife of her housewifely heritage. If she has a +baby—which happens occasionally, Carley, in spite of your +assertion—it very soon goes to the kindergarten. Then what does she find +to do with hours and hours? If she is not married, what on earth <i>can</i> she +find to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“She can work,” replied Carley, bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, she can, but she doesn’t,” went on Eleanor. +“<i>You</i> don’t work. I never did. We both hated the idea. +You’re calling spades spades, Carley, but you seem to be riding a morbid, +impractical thesis. Well, our young American girl or bride goes in for being +rushed or she goes in for fads, the ultra stuff you mentioned. New York City +gets all the great artists, lecturers, and surely the great fakirs. The New +York women support them. The men laugh, but they furnish the money. They take +the women to the theaters, but they cut out the reception to a Polish princess, +a lecture by an Indian magician and mystic, or a benefit luncheon for a Home +for Friendless Cats. The truth is most of our young girls or brides have a +wonderful enthusiasm worthy of a better cause. What is to become of their +surplus energy, the bottled-lightning spirit so characteristic of modern girls? +Where is the outlet for intense feelings? What use can they make of education +or of gifts? They just can’t, that’s all. I’m not taking into +consideration the new-woman species, the faddist or the reformer. I mean normal +girls like you and me. Just think, Carley. A girl’s every wish, every +need, is almost instantly satisfied without the slightest effort on her part to +obtain it. No struggle, let alone work! If women crave to achieve something +outside of the arts, you know, something universal and helpful which will make +men acknowledge her worth, if not the equality, where is the +opportunity?” +</p> + +<p> +“Opportunities should be <i>made</i>,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“There are a million sides to this question of the modern young +woman—the <i>fin-de-siècle</i> girl. I’m for her!” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the extreme of style in dress for this remarkably-to-be-pitied +American girl you champion so eloquently?” queried Carley, sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +“Immoral!” exclaimed Eleanor with frank disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“You admit it?” +</p> + +<p> +“To my shame, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do women wear extreme clothes? Why do you and I wear open-work silk +stockings, skirts to our knees, gowns without sleeves or bodices?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re slaves to fashion,” replied Eleanor, +“That’s the popular excuse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” exclaimed Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Eleanor laughed in spite of being half nettled. “Are you going to stop +wearing what all the other women wear—and be looked at askance? Are you +going to be dowdy and frumpy and old-fashioned?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. But I’ll never wear anything again that can be called immoral. +I want to be able to say <i>why</i> I wear a dress. You haven’t answered +my question yet. Why do you wear what you frankly admit is disgusting?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Carley,” replied Eleanor, helplessly. +“How you harp on things! We must dress to make other women jealous and to +attract men. To be a sensation! Perhaps the word ‘immoral’ is not +what I mean. A woman will be shocking in her obsession to attract, but hardly +more than that, if she knows it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! So few women realize how they actually do look. Haze Ruff could tell +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haze Ruff. Who in the world is he or she?” asked Eleanor. +</p> + +<p> +“Haze Ruff is a he, all right,” replied Carley, grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“A sheep-dipper in Arizona,” answered Carley, dreamily. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph! And what can Mr. Ruff tell us?” +</p> + +<p> +“He told <i>me</i> I looked like one of the devil’s +angels—and that I dressed to knock the daylights out of men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Carley Burch, if that isn’t rich!” exclaimed Eleanor, +with a peal of laughter. “I dare say you appreciate that as an original +compliment.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.... I wonder what Ruff would say about jazz—I just +wonder,” murmured Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I wouldn’t care what he said, and I don’t care what +<i>you</i> say,” returned Eleanor. “The preachers and reformers and +bishops and rabbis make me sick. They rave about jazz. Jazz—the +discordant note of our decadence! Jazz—the harmonious expression of our +musicless, mindless, soulless materialism!—The idiots! If they could be +women for a while they would realize the error of their ways. But they will +never, never abolish jazz—<i>never</i>, for it is the grandest, the most +wonderful, the most absolutely necessary thing for women in this terrible age +of smotheration.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Eleanor, we understand each other, even if we do not +agree,” said Carley. “You leave the future of women to chance, to +life, to materialism, not to their own conscious efforts. I want to leave it to +free will and idealism.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, you are getting a little beyond me,” declared Eleanor, +dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to <i>do?</i> It all comes home to each individual +woman. Her attitude toward life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll drift along with the current, Carley, and be a good +sport,” replied Eleanor, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t care about the women and children of the future? +You’ll not deny yourself now, and think and work, and suffer a little, in +the interest of future humanity?” +</p> + +<p> +“How you put things, Carley!” exclaimed Eleanor, wearily. “Of +course I care—when you make me think of such things. But what have +<i>I</i> to do with the lives of people in the years to come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything. America for Americans! While you dawdle, the life blood is +being sucked out of our great nation. It is a man’s job to fight; it is a +woman’s to save.... I think you’ve made your choice, though you +don’t realize it. I’m praying to God that I’ll rise to +mine.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Carley had a visitor one morning earlier than the usual or conventional time +for calls. +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t give no name,” said the maid. “He wears +soldier clothes, ma’am, and he’s pale, and walks with a +cane.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him I’ll be right down,” replied Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Her hands trembled while she hurriedly dressed. Could this caller be Virgil +Rust? She hoped so, but she doubted. +</p> + +<p> +As she entered the parlor a tall young man in worn khaki rose to meet her. At +first glance she could not name him, though she recognized the pale face and +light-blue eyes, direct and steady. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Miss Burch,” he said. “I hope you’ll +excuse so early a call. You remember me, don’t you? I’m George +Burton, who had the bunk next to Rust’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely I remember you, Mr. Burton, and I’m glad to see you,” +replied Carley, shaking hands with him. “Please sit down. Your being here +must mean you’re discharged from the hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was discharged, all right,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means you’re well again. That is fine. I’m very +glad.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was put out to make room for a fellow in bad shape. I’m still +shaky and weak,” he replied. “But I’m glad to go. I’ve +pulled through pretty good, and it’ll not be long until I’m strong +again. It was the ‘flu’ that kept me down.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be careful. May I ask where you’re going and what you +expect to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s what I came to tell you,” he replied, frankly. +“I want you to help me a little. I’m from Illinois and my people +aren’t so badly off. But I don’t want to go back to my home town +down and out, you know. Besides, the winters are cold there. The doctor advises +me to go to a little milder climate. You see, I was gassed, and got the +‘flu’ afterward. But I know I’ll be all right if I’m +careful.... Well, I’ve always had a leaning toward agriculture, and I +want to go to Kansas. Southern Kansas. I want to travel around till I find a +place I like, and there I’ll get a job. Not too hard a job at +first—that’s why I’ll need a little money. I know what to do. +I want to lose myself in the wheat country and forget the—the war. +I’ll not be afraid of work, presently.... Now, Miss Burch, you’ve +been so kind—I’m going to ask you to lend me a little money. +I’ll pay it back. I can’t promise just when. But some day. Will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly I will,” she replied, heartily. “I’m happy +to have the opportunity to help you. How much will you need for immediate use? +Five hundred dollars?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, not so much as that,” he replied. “Just railroad fare +home, and then to Kansas, and to pay board while I get well, you know, and look +around.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll make it five hundred, anyway,” she replied, and, +rising, she went toward the library. “Excuse me a moment.” She +wrote the check and, returning, gave it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very good,” he said, rather low. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” replied Carley. “You have no idea how much it +means to me to be permitted to help you. Before I forget, I must ask you, can +you cash that check here in New York?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not unless you identify me,” he said, ruefully, “I +don’t know anyone I could ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, when you leave here go at once to my bank—it’s on +Thirty-fourth Street—and I’ll telephone the cashier. So +you’ll not have any difficulty. Will you leave New York at once?” +</p> + +<p> +“I surely will. It’s an awful place. Two years ago when I came here +with my company I thought it was grand. But I guess I lost something over +there. ... I want to be where it’s quiet. Where I won’t see many +people.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I understand,” returned Carley. “Then I suppose +you’re in a hurry to get home? Of course you have a girl you’re +just dying to see?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m sorry to say I haven’t,” he replied, simply. +“I was glad I didn’t have to leave a sweetheart behind, when I went +to France. But it wouldn’t be so bad to have one to go back to +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you worry!” exclaimed Carley. “You can take your +choice presently. You have the open sesame to every real American girl’s +heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that?” he asked, with a blush. +</p> + +<p> +“Your service to your country,” she said, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, with a singular bluntness, “considering I +didn’t get any medals or bonuses, I’d like to draw a nice +girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will,” replied Carley, and made haste to change the subject. +“By the way, did you meet Glenn Kilbourne in France?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I remember,” rejoined Burton, as he got up, rising rather +stiffly by aid of his cane. “I must go, Miss Burch. Really I can’t +thank you enough. And I’ll never forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you write me how you are getting along?” asked Carley, +offering her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley moved with him out into the hall and to the door. There was a question +she wanted to ask, but found it strangely difficult of utterance. At the door +Burton fixed a rather penetrating gaze upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t ask me about Rust,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I—I didn’t think of him—until now, in fact,” +Carley lied. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course then you couldn’t have heard about him. I was +wondering.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was Rust who told me to come to you,” said Burton. “We +were talking one day, and he—well, he thought you were true blue. He said +he knew you’d trust me and lend me money. I couldn’t have asked you +but for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“True blue! He believed that. I’m glad.... Has he spoken of me to +you since I was last at the hospital?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly,” replied Burton, with the straight, strange glance on her +again. +</p> + +<p> +Carley met this glance and suddenly a coldness seemed to envelop her. It did +not seem to come from within though her heart stopped beating. Burton had not +changed—the warmth, the gratitude still lingered about him. But the light +of his eyes! Carley had seen it in Glenn’s, in Rust’s—a +strange, questioning, far-off light, infinitely aloof and unutterably sad. Then +there came a lift of her heart that released a pang. She whispered with dread, +with a tremor, with an instinct of calamity. +</p> + +<p> +“How about—Rust?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dead.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +The winter came, with its bleak sea winds and cold rains and blizzards of snow. +Carley did not go South. She read and brooded, and gradually avoided all save +those true friends who tolerated her. +</p> + +<p> +She went to the theater a good deal, showing preference for the drama of +strife, and she did not go anywhere for amusement. Distraction and amusement +seemed to be dead issues for her. But she could become absorbed in any argument +on the good or evil of the present day. Socialism reached into her mind, to be +rejected. She had never understood it clearly, but it seemed to her a state of +mind where dissatisfied men and women wanted to share what harder working or +more gifted people possessed. There were a few who had too much of the +world’s goods and many who had too little. A readjustment of such +inequality and injustice must come, but Carley did not see the remedy in +Socialism. +</p> + +<p> +She devoured books on the war with a morbid curiosity and hope that she would +find some illuminating truth as to the uselessness of sacrificing young men in +the glory and prime of their lives. To her war appeared a matter of human +nature rather than politics. Hate really was an effect of war. In her judgment +future wars could be avoided only in two ways—by men becoming honest and +just or by women refusing to have children to be sacrificed. As there seemed no +indication whatever of the former, she wondered how soon all women of all races +would meet on a common height, with the mounting spirit that consumed her own +heart. Such time must come. She granted every argument for war and flung +against it one ringing passionate truth—agony of mangled soldiers and +agony of women and children. There was no justification for offensive war. It +was monstrous and hideous. If nature and evolution proved the absolute need of +strife, war, blood, and death in the progress of animal and man toward +perfection, then it would be better to abandon this Christless code and let the +race of man die out. +</p> + +<p> +All through these weeks she longed for a letter from Glenn. But it did not +come. Had he finally roused to the sweetness and worth and love of the western +girl, Flo Hutter? Carley knew absolutely, through both intelligence and +intuition, that Glenn Kilbourne would never love Flo. Yet such was her +intensity and stress at times, especially in the darkness of waking hours, that +jealousy overcame her and insidiously worked its havoc. Peace and a strange +kind of joy came to her in dreams of her walks and rides and climbs in Arizona, +of the lonely canyon where it always seemed afternoon, of the tremendous +colored vastness of that Painted Desert. But she resisted these dreams now +because when she awoke from them she suffered such a yearning that it became +unbearable. Then she knew the feeling of the loneliness and solitude of the +hills. Then she knew the sweetness of the murmur of falling water, the wind in +the pines, the song of birds, the white radiance of the stars, the break of day +and its gold-flushed close. But she had not yet divined their meaning. It was +not all love for Glenn Kilbourne. Had city life palled upon her solely because +of the absence of her lover? So Carley plodded on, like one groping in the +night, fighting shadows. +</p> + +<p> +One day she received a card from an old schoolmate, a girl who had married out +of Carley’s set, and had been ostracized. She was living down on Long +Island, at a little country place named Wading River. Her husband was an +electrician—something of an inventor. He worked hard. A baby boy had just +come to them. Would not Carley run down on the train to see the youngster? +</p> + +<p> +That was a strong and trenchant call. Carley went. She found indeed a country +village, and on the outskirts of it a little cottage that must have been pretty +in summer, when the green was on vines and trees. Her old schoolmate was rosy, +plump, bright-eyed, and happy. She saw in Carley no change—a fact that +somehow rebounded sweetly on Carley’s consciousness. Elsie prattled of +herself and her husband and how they had worked to earn this little home, and +then the baby. +</p> + +<p> +When Carley saw the adorable dark-eyed, pink-toed, curly-fisted baby she +understood Elsie’s happiness and reveled in it. When she felt the soft, +warm, living little body in her arms, against her breast, then she absorbed +some incalculable and mysterious strength. What were the trivial, sordid, and +selfish feelings that kept her in tumult compared to this welling emotion? Had +she the secret in her arms? Babies and Carley had never become closely +acquainted in those infrequent meetings that were usually the result of chance. +But Elsie’s baby nestled to her breast and cooed to her and clung to her +finger. When at length the youngster was laid in his crib it seemed to Carley +that the fragrance and the soul of him remained with her. +</p> + +<p> +“A real American boy!” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“You can just bet he is,” replied Elsie. “Carley, you ought +to see his dad.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to meet him,” said Carley, thoughtfully. +“Elsie, was he in the service?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He was on one of the navy transports that took munitions to France. +Think of me, carrying this baby, with my husband on a boat full of explosives +and with German submarines roaming the ocean! Oh, it was horrible!” +</p> + +<p> +“But he came back, and now all’s well with you,” said Carley, +with a smile of earnestness. “I’m very glad, Elsie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—but I shudder when I think of a possible war in the future. +I’m going to raise boys, and girls, too, I hope—and the thought of +war is torturing.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley found her return train somewhat late, and she took advantage of the +delay to walk out to the wooded headlands above the Sound. +</p> + +<p> +It was a raw March day, with a steely sun going down in a pale-gray sky. +Patches of snow lingered in sheltered brushy places. This bit of woodland had a +floor of soft sand that dragged at Carley’s feet. There were sere and +brown leaves still fluttering on the scrub-oaks. At length Carley came out on +the edge of the bluff with the gray expanse of sea beneath her, and a long +wandering shore line, ragged with wreckage or driftwood. The surge of water +rolled in—a long, low, white, creeping line that softly roared on the +beach and dragged the pebbles gratingly back. There was neither boat nor living +creature in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Carley felt the scene ease a clutching hand within her breast. Here was +loneliness and solitude vastly different from that of Oak Creek Canyon, yet it +held the same intangible power to soothe. The swish of the surf, the moan of +the wind in the evergreens, were voices that called to her. How many more miles +of lonely land than peopled cities! Then the sea—how vast! And over that +the illimitable and infinite sky, and beyond, the endless realms of space. It +helped her somehow to see and hear and feel the eternal presence of nature. In +communion with nature the significance of life might be realized. She +remembered Glenn quoting: “The world is too much with us. ... Getting and +spending, we lay waste our powers.” What were our powers? What did God +intend men to do with hands and bodies and gifts and souls? She gazed back over +the bleak land and then out across the broad sea. Only a millionth part of the +surface of the unsubmerged earth knew the populous abodes of man. And the +lonely sea, inhospitable to stable homes of men, was thrice the area of the +land. Were men intended, then, to congregate in few places, to squabble and to +bicker and breed the discontents that led to injustice, hatred, and war? What a +mystery it all was! But Nature was neither false nor little, however cruel she +might be. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Once again Carley fell under the fury of her ordeal. Wavering now, restless and +sleepless, given to violent starts and slow spells of apathy, she was wearing +to defeat. +</p> + +<p> +That spring day, one year from the day she had left New York for Arizona, she +wished to spend alone. But her thoughts grew unbearable. She summed up the +endless year. Could she live another like it? Something must break within her. +</p> + +<p> +She went out. The air was warm and balmy, carrying that subtle current which +caused the mild madness of spring fever. In the Park the greening of the grass, +the opening of buds, the singing of birds, the gladness of children, the light +on the water, the warm sun—all seemed to reproach her. Carley fled from +the Park to the home of Beatrice Lovell; and there, unhappily, she encountered +those of her acquaintance with whom she had least patience. They forced her to +think too keenly of herself. They appeared carefree while she was miserable. +</p> + +<p> +Over teacups there were waging gossip and argument and criticism. When Carley +entered with Beatrice there was a sudden hush and then a murmur. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Carley! Now say it to our faces,” called out Geralda +Conners, a fair, handsome young woman of thirty, exquisitely gowned in the +latest mode, and whose brilliantly tinted complexion was not the natural one of +health. +</p> + +<p> +“Say what, Geralda?” asked Carley. “I certainly would not say +anything behind your backs that I wouldn’t repeat here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eleanor has been telling us how you simply burned us up.” +</p> + +<p> +“We did have an argument. And I’m not sure I said all I wanted +to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say the rest here,” drawled a lazy, mellow voice. “For +Heaven’s sake, stir us up. If I could get a kick out of <i>anything</i> +I’d bless it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Carley, go on the stage,” advised another. “You’ve got +Elsie Ferguson tied to the mast for looks. And lately you’re surely +tragic enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d go somewhere far off!” observed a third. +“My husband is dippy about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, do you know that you actually have not one sensible idea in your +heads?” retorted Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Sensible? I should hope not. Who wants to be sensible?” +</p> + +<p> +Geralda battered her teacup on a saucer. “Listen,” she called. +“I wasn’t kidding Carley. I am good and sore. She goes around +knocking everybody and saying New York backs Sodom off the boards. I want her +to come out with it right here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say I’ve talked too much,” returned Carley. +“It’s been a rather hard winter on me. Perhaps, indeed, I’ve +tried the patience of my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Carley,” said Geralda, deliberately, “just because +you’ve had life turn to bitter ashes in your mouth you’ve no right +to poison it for us. We all find it pretty sweet. You’re an +<i>un</i>satisfied woman and if you don’t marry somebody you’ll end +by being a reformer or fanatic.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather end that way than rot in a shell,” retorted +Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“I declare, you make me see red, Carley,” flashed Geralda, angrily. +“No wonder Morrison roasts you to everybody. He says Glenn Kilbourne +threw you down for some Western girl. If that’s true it’s pretty +small of you to vent your spleen on us.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley felt the gathering of a mighty resistless force, But Geralda Conners was +nothing to her except the target for a thunderbolt. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no spleen,” she replied, with a dignity of passion. +“I have only pity. I was as blind as you. If heartbreak tore the scales +from my eyes, perhaps that is well for me. For I see something terribly wrong +in myself, in you, in all of us, in the life of today.” +</p> + +<p> +“You keep your pity to yourself. You need it,” answered Geralda, +with heat. “There’s nothing wrong with me or my friends or life in +good old New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing wrong!” cried Carley. “Listen. Nothing wrong in you +or life today—nothing for you women to make right? You are blind as +bats—as dead to living truth as if you were buried. Nothing wrong when +thousands of crippled soldiers have no homes—no money—no +friends—no work—in many cases no food or bed?... Splendid young men +who went away in their prime to fight for <i>you</i> and came back ruined, +suffering! Nothing wrong when sane women with the vote might rid politics of +partisanship, greed, crookedness? Nothing wrong when prohibition is mocked by +women—when the greatest boon ever granted this country is derided and +beaten down and cheated? Nothing wrong when there are half a million defective +children in this city? Nothing wrong when there are not enough schools and +teachers to educate our boys and girls, when those teachers are shamefully +underpaid? Nothing wrong when the mothers of this great country let their +youngsters go to the dark motion picture halls and night after night in +thousands of towns over all this broad land see pictures that the juvenile +court and the educators and keepers of reform schools say make burglars, +crooks, and murderers of our boys and vampires of our girls? Nothing wrong when +these young adolescent girls ape <i>you</i> and wear stockings rolled under +their knees below their skirts and use a lip stick and paint their faces and +darken their eyes and pluck their eyebrows and absolutely do not know what +shame is? Nothing wrong when you may find in any city women standing at street +corners distributing booklets on birth control? Nothing wrong when great +magazines print no page or picture without its sex appeal? Nothing wrong when +the automobile, so convenient for the innocent little run out of town, presents +the greatest evil that ever menaced American girls! Nothing wrong when money is +god—when luxury, pleasure, excitement, speed are the striven for? Nothing +wrong when some of your husbands spend more of their time with other women than +with you? Nothing wrong with jazz—where the lights go out in the dance +hall and the dancers jiggle and toddle and wiggle in a frenzy? Nothing wrong in +a country where the greatest college cannot report birth of one child to each +graduate in ten years? Nothing wrong with race suicide and the incoming horde +of foreigners?... Nothing wrong with you women who cannot or will not stand +childbirth? Nothing wrong with most of you, when if you <i>did</i> have a +child, you could not nurse it?... Oh, my God, there’s nothing wrong with +America except that she staggers under a Titanic burden that only mothers of +sons can remove!... You doll women, you parasites, you toys of men, you +silken-wrapped geisha girls, you painted, idle, purring cats, you parody of the +females of your species—find brains enough if you can to see the doom +hanging over you and revolt before it is too late!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +Carley burst in upon her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at me, Aunt Mary!” she cried, radiant and exultant. +“I’m going back out West to marry Glenn and live his life!” +</p> + +<p> +The keen old eyes of her aunt softened and dimmed. “Dear Carley, +I’ve known that for a long time. You’ve found yourself at +last.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Carley breathlessly babbled her hastily formed plans, every word of which +seemed to rush her onward. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to surprise Glenn again?” queried Aunt Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I must! I want to see his face when I tell him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I hope he won’t surprise <i>you</i>,” declared the old +lady. “When did you hear from him last?” +</p> + +<p> +“In January. It seems ages—but—Aunt Mary, you don’t +imagine Glenn—” +</p> + +<p> +“I imagine nothing,” interposed her aunt. “It will turn out +happily and I’ll have some peace in my old age. But, Carley, what’s +to become of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I never thought!” replied Carley, blankly. “It will be +lonely for you. Auntie, I’ll come back in the fall for a few weeks. Glenn +will let me.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Let</i> you? Ye gods! So you’ve come to that? Imperious Carley +Burch!... Thank Heaven, you’ll now be satisfied to be let do +things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d—I’d crawl for him,” breathed Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, child, as you can’t be practical, I’ll have to +be,” replied Aunt Mary, seriously. “Fortunately for you I am a +woman of quick decision. Listen. I’ll go West with you. I want to see the +Grand Canyon. Then I’ll go on to California, where I have old friends +I’ve not seen for years. When you get your new home all fixed up +I’ll spend awhile with you. And if I want to come back to New York now +and then I’ll go to a hotel. It is settled. I think the change will +benefit me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Auntie, you make me very happy. I could ask no more,” said Carley. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Swiftly as endless tasks could make them the days passed. But those on the +train dragged interminably. +</p> + +<p> +Carley sent her aunt through to the Canyon while she stopped off at Flagstaff +to store innumerable trunks and bags. The first news she heard of Glenn and the +Hutters was that they had gone to the Tonto Basin to buy hogs and would be +absent at least a month. This gave birth to a new plan in Carley’s mind. +She would doubly surprise Glenn. Wherefore she took council with some Flagstaff +business men and engaged them to set a force of men at work on the Deep Lake +property, making the improvements she desired, and hauling lumber, cement, +bricks, machinery, supplies—all the necessaries for building +construction. Also she instructed them to throw up a tent house for her to live +in during the work, and to engage a reliable Mexican man with his wife for +servants. When she left for the Canyon she was happier than ever before in her +life. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +It was near the coming of sunset when Carley first looked down into the Grand +Canyon. She had forgotten Glenn’s tribute to this place. In her rapturous +excitement of preparation and travel the Canyon had been merely a name. But now +she saw it and she was stunned. +</p> + +<p> +What a stupendous chasm, gorgeous in sunset color on the heights, purpling into +mystic shadows in the depths! There was a wonderful brightness of all the +millions of red and yellow and gray surfaces still exposed to the sun. Carley +did not feel a thrill, because feeling seemed inhibited. She looked and looked, +yet was reluctant to keep on looking. She possessed no image in mind with which +to compare this grand and mystic spectacle. A transformation of color and shade +appeared to be going on swiftly, as if gods were changing the scenes of a +Titanic stage. As she gazed the dark fringed line of the north rim turned to +burnished gold, and she watched that with fascinated eyes. It turned rose, it +lost its fire, it faded to quiet cold gray. The sun had set. +</p> + +<p> +Then the wind blew cool through the pinyons on the rim. There was a sweet tang +of cedar and sage on the air and that indefinable fragrance peculiar to the +canyon country of Arizona. How it brought back to Carley remembrance of Oak +Creek! In the west, across the purple notches of the abyss, a dull gold flare +showed where the sun had gone down. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning at eight o’clock there were great irregular black shadows +under the domes and peaks and escarpments. Bright Angel Canyon was all dark, +showing dimly its ragged lines. At noon there were no shadows and all the +colossal gorge lay glaring under the sun. In the evening Carley watched the +Canyon as again the sun was setting. +</p> + +<p> +Deep dark-blue shadows, like purple sails of immense ships, in wonderful +contrast with the bright sunlit slopes, grew and rose toward the east, down the +canyons and up the walls that faced the west. For a long while there was no red +color, and the first indication of it was a dull bronze. Carley looked down +into the void, at the sailing birds, at the precipitous slopes, and the dwarf +spruces and the weathered old yellow cliffs. When she looked up again the +shadows out there were no longer dark. They were clear. The slopes and depths +and ribs of rock could be seen through them. Then the tips of the highest peaks +and domes turned bright red. Far to the east she discerned a strange shadow, +slowly turning purple. One instant it grew vivid, then began to fade. Soon +after that all the colors darkened and slowly the pale gray stole over all. +</p> + +<p> +At night Carley gazed over and into the black void. But for the awful sense of +depth she would not have known the Canyon to be there. A soundless movement of +wind passed under her. The chasm seemed a grave of silence. It was as +mysterious as the stars and as aloof and as inevitable. It had held her senses +of beauty and proportion in abeyance. +</p> + +<p> +At another sunrise the crown of the rim, a broad belt of bare rock, turned pale +gold under its fringed dark line of pines. The tips of the peak gleamed opal. +There was no sunrise red, no fire. The light in the east was a pale gold under +a steely green-blue sky. All the abyss of the Canyon was soft, gray, +transparent, and the belt of gold broadened downward, making shadows on the +west slopes of the mesas and escarpments. Far down in the shadows she discerned +the river, yellow, turgid, palely gleaming. By straining her ears Carley heard +a low dull roar as of distant storm. She stood fearfully at the extreme edge of +a stupendous cliff, where it sheered dark and forbidding, down and down, into +what seemed red and boundless depths of Hades. She saw gold spots of sunlight +on the dark shadows, proving that somewhere, impossible to discover, the sun +was shining through wind-worn holes in the sharp ridges. Every instant Carley +grasped a different effect. Her studied gaze absorbed an endless changing. And +at last she realized that sun and light and stars and moon and night and shade, +all working incessantly and mutably over shapes and lines and angles and +surfaces too numerous and too great for the sight of man to hold, made an +ever-changing spectacle of supreme beauty and colorful grandeur. +</p> + +<p> +She talked very little while at the Canyon. It silenced her. She had come to +see it at the critical time of her life and in the right mood. The +superficialities of the world shrunk to their proper insignificance. Once she +asked her aunt: “Why did not Glenn bring me here?” As if this +Canyon proved the nature of all things! +</p> + +<p> +But in the end Carley found that the rending strife of the transformation of +her attitude toward life had insensibly ceased. It had ceased during the long +watching of this cataclysm of nature, this canyon of gold-banded black-fringed +ramparts, and red-walled mountains which sloped down to be lost in purple +depths. That was final proof of the strength of nature to soothe, to clarify, +to stabilize the tried and weary and upward-gazing soul. Stronger than the +recorded deeds of saints, stronger than the eloquence of the gifted uplifters +of men, stronger than any words ever written, was the grand, brooding, +sculptured aspect of nature. And it must have been so because thousands of +years before the age of saints or preachers—before the fret and symbol +and figure were cut in stone—man must have watched with +thought-developing sight the wonders of the earth, the monuments of time, the +glooming of the dark-blue sea, the handiwork of God. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +In May, Carley returned to Flagstaff to take up with earnest inspiration the +labors of homebuilding in a primitive land. +</p> + +<p> +It required two trucks to transport her baggage and purchases out to Deep Lake. +The road was good for eighteen miles of the distance, until it branched off to +reach her land, and from there it was desert rock and sand. But eventually they +made it; and Carley found herself and belongings dumped out into the windy and +sunny open. The moment was singularly thrilling and full of transport. She was +free. She had shaken off the shackles. She faced lonely, wild, barren desert +that must be made habitable by the genius of her direction and the labor of her +hands. Always a thought of Glenn hovered tenderly, dreamily in the back of her +consciousness, but she welcomed the opportunity to have a few weeks of work and +activity and solitude before taking up her life with him. She wanted to adapt +herself to the metamorphosis that had been wrought in her. +</p> + +<p> +To her amazement and delight, a very considerable progress had been made with +her plans. Under a sheltered red cliff among the cedars had been erected the +tents where she expected to live until the house was completed. These tents +were large, with broad floors high off the ground, and there were four of them. +Her living tent had a porch under a wide canvas awning. The bed was a boxlike +affair, raised off the floor two feet, and it contained a great, fragrant mass +of cedar boughs upon which the blankets were to be spread. At one end was a +dresser with large mirror, and a chiffonier. There were table and lamp, a low +rocking chair, a shelf for books, a row of hooks upon which to hang things, a +washstand with its necessary accessories, a little stove and a neat stack of +cedar chips and sticks. Navajo rugs on the floor lent brightness and comfort. +</p> + +<p> +Carley heard the rustling of cedar branches over her head, and saw where they +brushed against the tent roof. It appeared warm and fragrant inside, and +protected from the wind, and a subdued white light filtered through the canvas. +Almost she felt like reproving herself for the comfort surrounding her. For she +had come West to welcome the hard knocks of primitive life. +</p> + +<p> +It took less than an hour to have her trunks stored in one of the spare tents, +and to unpack clothes and necessaries for immediate use. Carley donned the +comfortable and somewhat shabby outdoor garb she had worn at Oak Creek the year +before; and it seemed to be the last thing needed to make her fully realize the +glorious truth of the present. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m here,” she said to her pale, yet happy face in the +mirror. “The impossible has happened. I have accepted Glenn’s life. +I have answered that strange call out of the West.” +</p> + +<p> +She wanted to throw herself on the sunlit woolly blankets of her bed and hug +them, to think and think of the bewildering present happiness, to dream of the +future, but she could not lie or sit still, nor keep her mind from grasping at +actualities and possibilities of this place, nor her hands from itching to do +things. +</p> + +<p> +It developed, presently, that she could not have idled away the time even if +she had wanted to, for the Mexican woman came for her, with smiling +gesticulation and jabber that manifestly meant dinner. Carley could not +understand many Mexican words, and herein she saw another task. This swarthy +woman and her sloe-eyed husband favorably impressed Carley. +</p> + +<p> +Next to claim her was Hoyle, the superintendent. “Miss Burch,” he +said, “in the early days we could run up a log cabin in a jiffy. Axes, +horses, strong arms, and a few pegs—that was all we needed. But this +house you’ve planned is different. It’s good you’ve come to +take the responsibility.” +</p> + +<p> +Carley had chosen the site for her home on top of the knoll where Glenn had +taken her to show her the magnificent view of mountains and desert. Carley +climbed it now with beating heart and mingled emotions. A thousand times +already that day, it seemed, she had turned to gaze up at the noble white-clad +peaks. They were closer now, apparently looming over her, and she felt a great +sense of peace and protection in the thought that they would always be there. +But she had not yet seen the desert that had haunted her for a year. When she +reached the summit of the knoll and gazed out across the open space it seemed +that she must stand spellbound. How green the cedared foreground—how gray +and barren the downward slope—how wonderful the painted steppes! The +vision that had lived in her memory shrank to nothingness. The reality was +immense, more than beautiful, appalling in its isolation, beyond comprehension +with its lure and strength to uplift. +</p> + +<p> +But the superintendent drew her attention to the business at hand. +</p> + +<p> +Carley had planned an L-shaped house of one story. Some of her ideas appeared +to be impractical, and these she abandoned. The framework was up and half a +dozen carpenters were lustily at work with saw and hammer. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d made better progress if this house was in an ordinary +place,” explained Hoyle. “But you see the wind blows here, so the +framework had to be made as solid and strong as possible. In fact, it’s +bolted to the sills.” +</p> + +<p> +Both living room and sleeping room were arranged so that the Painted Desert +could be seen from one window, and on the other side the whole of the San +Francisco Mountains. Both rooms were to have open fireplaces. Carley’s +idea was for service and durability. She thought of comfort in the severe +winters of that high latitude, but elegance and luxury had no more significance +in her life. +</p> + +<p> +Hoyle made his suggestions as to changes and adaptations, and, receiving her +approval, he went on to show her what had been already accomplished. Back on +higher ground a reservoir of concrete was being constructed near an +ever-flowing spring of snow water from the peaks. This water was being piped by +gravity to the house, and was a matter of greatest satisfaction to Hoyle, for +he claimed that it would never freeze in winter, and would be cold and abundant +during the hottest and driest of summers. This assurance solved the most +difficult and serious problem of ranch life in the desert. +</p> + +<p> +Next Hoyle led Carley down off the knoll to the wide cedar valley adjacent to +the lake. He was enthusiastic over its possibilities. Two small corrals and a +large one had been erected, the latter having a low flat barn connected with +it. Ground was already being cleared along the lake where alfalfa and hay were +to be raised. Carley saw the blue and yellow smoke from burning brush, and the +fragrant odor thrilled her. Mexicans were chopping the cleared cedars into +firewood for winter use. +</p> + +<p> +The day was spent before she realized it. At sunset the carpenters and +mechanics left in two old Ford cars for town. The Mexicans had a camp in the +cedars, and the Hoyles had theirs at the spring under the knoll where Carley +had camped with Glenn and the Hutters. Carley watched the golden rosy sunset, +and as the day ended she breathed deeply as if in unutterable relief. Supper +found her with appetite she had long since lost. Twilight brought cold wind, +the staccato bark of coyotes, the flicker of camp fires through the cedars. She +tried to embrace all her sensations, but they were so rapid and many that she +failed. +</p> + +<p> +The cold, clear, silent night brought back the charm of the desert. How flaming +white the stars! The great spire-pointed peaks lifted cold pale-gray outlines +up into the deep star-studded sky. Carley walked a little to and fro, loath to +go to her tent, though tired. She wanted calm. But instead of achieving +calmness she grew more and more towards a strange state of exultation. +</p> + +<p> +Westward, only a matter of twenty or thirty miles, lay the deep rent in the +level desert—Oak Creek Canyon. If Glenn had been there this night would +have been perfect, yet almost unendurable. She was again grateful for his +absence. What a surprise she had in store for him! And she imagined his face in +its change of expression when she met him. If only he never learned of her +presence in Arizona until she made it known in person! That she most longed +for. Chances were against it, but then her luck had changed. She looked to the +eastward where a pale luminosity of afterglow shone in the heavens. Far distant +seemed the home of her childhood, the friends she had scorned and forsaken, the +city of complaining and striving millions. If only some miracle might illumine +the minds of her friends, as she felt that hers was to be illumined here in the +solitude. But she well realized that not all problems could be solved by a call +out of the West. Any open and lonely land that might have saved Glenn Kilbourne +would have sufficed for her. It was the spirit of the thing and not the letter. +It was work of any kind and not only that of ranch life. Not only the raising +of hogs! +</p> + +<p> +Carley directed stumbling steps toward the light of her tent. Her eyes had not +been used to such black shadow along the ground. She had, too, squeamish +feminine fears of hydrophobia skunks, and nameless animals or reptiles that +were imagined denizens of the darkness. She gained her tent and entered. The +Mexican, Gino, as he called himself, had lighted her lamp and fire. Carley was +chilled through, and the tent felt so warm and cozy that she could scarcely +believe it. She fastened the screen door, laced the flaps across it, except at +the top, and then gave herself up to the lulling and comforting heat. +</p> + +<p> +There were plans to perfect; innumerable things to remember; a car and +accessories, horses, saddles, outfits to buy. Carley knew she should sit down +at her table and write and figure, but she could not do it then. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time she sat over the little stove, toasting her knees and hands, +adding some chips now and then to the red coals. And her mind seemed a +kaleidoscope of changing visions, thoughts, feelings. At last she undressed and +blew out the lamp and went to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly a thick blackness seemed to enfold her and silence as of a dead world +settled down upon her. Drowsy as she was, she could not close her eyes nor +refrain from listening. Darkness and silence were tangible things. She felt +them. And they seemed suddenly potent with magic charm to still the tumult of +her, to soothe and rest, to create thoughts she had never thought before. Rest +was more than selfish indulgence. Loneliness was necessary to gain +consciousness of the soul. Already far back in the past seemed Carley’s +other life. +</p> + +<p> +By and by the dead stillness awoke to faint sounds not before perceptible to +her—a low, mournful sough of the wind in the cedars, then the faint +far-distant note of a coyote, sad as the night and infinitely wild. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +Days passed. Carley worked in the mornings with her hands and her brains. In +the afternoons she rode and walked and climbed with a double object, to work +herself into fit physical condition and to explore every nook and corner of her +six hundred and forty acres. +</p> + +<p> +Then what she had expected and deliberately induced by her efforts quickly came +to pass. Just as the year before she had suffered excruciating pain from aching +muscles, and saddle blisters, and walking blisters, and a very rending of her +bones, so now she fell victim to them again. In sunshine and rain she faced the +desert. Sunburn and sting of sleet were equally to be endured. And that +abomination, the hateful blinding sandstorm, did not daunt her. But the weary +hours of abnegation to this physical torture at least held one consoling +recompense as compared with her experience of last year, and it was that there +was no one interested to watch for her weaknesses and failures and blunders. +She could fight it out alone. +</p> + +<p> +Three weeks of this self-imposed strenuous training wore by before Carley was +free enough from weariness and pain to experience other sensations. Her general +health, evidently, had not been so good as when she had first visited Arizona. +She caught cold and suffered other ills attendant upon an abrupt change of +climate and condition. But doggedly she kept at her task. She rode when she +should have been in bed; she walked when she should have ridden; she climbed +when she should have kept to level ground. And finally by degrees so gradual as +not to be noticed except in the sum of them she began to mend. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the construction of her house went on with uninterrupted rapidity. +When the low, slanting, wide-eaved roof was completed Carley lost further +concern about rainstorms. Let them come. When the plumbing was all in and +Carley saw verification of Hoyle’s assurance that it would mean a gravity +supply of water ample and continual, she lost her last concern as to the +practicability of the work. That, and the earning of her endurance, seemed to +bring closer a wonderful reward, still nameless and spiritual, that had been +unattainable, but now breathed to her on the fragrant desert wind and in the +brooding silence. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +The time came when each afternoon’s ride or climb called to Carley with +increasing delight. But the fact that she must soon reveal to Glenn her +presence and transformation did not seem to be all the cause. She could ride +without pain, walk without losing her breath, work without blistering her +hands; and in this there was compensation. The building of the house that was +to become a home, the development of water resources and land that meant the +making of a ranch—these did not altogether constitute the anticipation of +content. To be active, to accomplish things, to recall to mind her knowledge of +manual training, of domestic science, of designing and painting, to learn to +cook—these were indeed measures full of reward, but they were not all. In +her wondering, pondering meditation she arrived at the point where she tried to +assign to her love the growing fullness of her life. This, too, splendid and +all-pervading as it was, she had to reject. Some exceedingly illusive and vital +significance of life had insidiously come to Carley. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, with the sky full of white and black rolling clouds and a cold +wind sweeping through the cedars, she halted to rest and escape the chilling +gale for a while. In a sunny place, under the lee of a gravel bank, she sought +refuge. It was warm here because of the reflected sunlight and the absence of +wind. The sand at the bottom of the bank held a heat that felt good to her cold +hands. All about her and over her swept the keen wind, rustling the sage, +seeping the sand, swishing the cedars, but she was out of it, protected and +insulated. The sky above showed blue between the threatening clouds. There were +no birds or living creatures in sight. Certainly the place had little of color +or beauty or grace, nor could she see beyond a few rods. Lying there, without +any particular reason that she was conscious of, she suddenly felt shot through +and through with exhilaration. +</p> + +<p> +Another day, the warmest of the spring so far, she rode a Navajo mustang she +had recently bought from a passing trader; and at the farthest end of her +section, in rough wooded and ridged ground she had not explored, she found a +canyon with red walls and pine trees and gleaming streamlet and glades of grass +and jumbles of rock. It was a miniature canyon, to be sure, only a quarter of a +mile long, and as deep as the height of a lofty pine, and so narrow that it +seemed only the width of a lane, but it had all the features of Oak Creek +Canyon, and so sufficed for the exultant joy of possession. She explored it. +The willow brakes and oak thickets harbored rabbits and birds. She saw the +white flags of deer running away down the open. Up at the head where the canyon +boxed she flushed a flock of wild turkeys. They ran like ostriches and flew +like great brown chickens. In a cavern Carley found the den of a bear, and in +another place the bleached bones of a steer. +</p> + +<p> +She lingered here in the shaded depths with a feeling as if she were indeed +lost to the world. These big brown and seamy-barked pines with their spreading +gnarled arms and webs of green needles belonged to her, as also the tiny brook, +the blue bells smiling out of the ferns, the single stalk of mescal on a rocky +ledge. +</p> + +<p> +Never had sun and earth, tree and rock, seemed a part of her being until then. +She would become a sun-worshiper and a lover of the earth. That canyon had +opened there to sky and light for millions of years; and doubtless it had +harbored sheep herders, Indians, cliff dwellers, barbarians. She was a woman +with white skin and a cultivated mind, but the affinity for them existed in +her. She felt it, and that an understanding of it would be good for body and +soul. +</p> + +<p> +Another day she found a little grove of jack pines growing on a flat mesa-like +bluff, the highest point on her land. The trees were small and close together, +mingling their green needles overhead and their discarded brown ones on the +ground. From here Carley could see afar to all points of the compass—the +slow green descent to the south and the climb to the black-timbered distance; +the ridged and canyoned country to the west, red vents choked with green and +rimmed with gray; to the north the grand upflung mountain kingdom crowned with +snow; and to the east the vastness of illimitable space, the openness and +wildness, the chased and beaten mosaic of colored sands and rocks. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again she visited this lookout and came to love its isolation, its +command of wondrous prospects, its power of suggestion to her thoughts. She +became a creative being, in harmony with the live things around her. The great +life-dispensing sun poured its rays down upon her, as if to ripen her; and the +earth seemed warm, motherly, immense with its all-embracing arms. She no longer +plucked the bluebells to press to her face, but leaned to them. Every blade of +gramma grass, with its shining bronze-tufted seed head, had significance for +her. The scents of the desert began to have meaning for her. She sensed within +her the working of a great leveling process through which supreme happiness +would come. +</p> + +<p> +June! The rich, thick, amber light, like a transparent reflection from some +intense golden medium, seemed to float in the warm air. The sky became an azure +blue. In the still noontides, when the bees hummed drowsily and the flies +buzzed, vast creamy-white columnar clouds rolled up from the horizon, like +colossal ships with bulging sails. And summer with its rush of growing things +was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +Carley rode afar, seeking in strange places the secret that eluded her. Only a +few days now until she would ride down to Oak Creek Canyon! There was a low, +singing melody of wind in the cedars. The earth became too beautiful in her +magnified sight. A great truth was dawning upon her—that the sacrifice of +what she had held as necessary to the enjoyment of life—that the strain +of conflict, the labor of hands, the forcing of weary body, the enduring of +pain, the contact with the earth—had served somehow to rejuvenate her +blood, quicken her pulse, intensify her sensorial faculties, thrill her very +soul, lead her into the realm of enchantment. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon a dull, lead-black-colored cinder knoll tempted her to explore +its bare heights. She rode up until her mustang sank to his knees and could +climb no farther. From there she essayed the ascent on foot. It took labor. But +at last she gained the summit, burning, sweating, panting. +</p> + +<p> +The cinder hill was an extinct crater of a volcano. In the center of it lay a +deep bowl, wondrously symmetrical, and of a dark lusterless hue. Not a blade of +grass was there, nor a plant. Carley conceived a desire to go to the bottom of +this pit. She tried the cinders of the edge of the slope. They had the same +consistency as those of the ascent she had overcome. But here there was a +steeper incline. A tingling rush of daring seemed to drive her over the rounded +rim, and, once started down, it was as if she wore seven-league boots. Fear +left her. Only an exhilarating emotion consumed her. If there were danger, it +mattered not. She strode down with giant steps, she plunged, she started +avalanches to ride them until they stopped, she leaped, and lastly she fell, to +roll over the soft cinders to the pit. +</p> + +<p> +There she lay. It seemed a comfortable resting place. The pit was scarcely six +feet across. She gazed upward and was astounded. How steep was the rounded +slope on all sides! There were no sides; it was a circle. She looked up at a +round lake of deep translucent sky. Such depth of blue, such exquisite rare +color! Carley imagined she could gaze through it to the infinite beyond. +</p> + +<p> +She closed her eyes and rested. Soon the laboring of heart and breath calmed to +normal, so that she could not hear them. Then she lay perfectly motionless. +With eyes shut she seemed still to look, and what she saw was the sunlight +through the blood and flesh of her eyelids. It was red, as rare a hue as the +blue of sky. So piercing did it grow that she had to shade her eyes with her +arm. +</p> + +<p> +Again the strange, rapt glow suffused her body. Never in all her life had she +been so absolutely alone. She might as well have been in her grave. She might +have been dead to all earthy things and reveling in spirit in the glory of the +physical that had escaped her in life. And she abandoned herself to this +influence. +</p> + +<p> +She loved these dry, dusty cinders; she loved the crater here hidden from all +save birds; she loved the desert, the earth—above all, the sun. She was a +product of the earth—a creation of the sun. She had been an infinitesimal +atom of inert something that had quickened to life under the blazing magic of +the sun. Soon her spirit would abandon her body and go on, while her flesh and +bone returned to dust. This frame of hers, that carried the divine spark, +belonged to the earth. She had only been ignorant, mindless, feelingless, +absorbed in the seeking of gain, blind to the truth. She had to give. She had +been created a woman; she belonged to nature; she was nothing save a mother of +the future. She had loved neither Glenn Kilbourne nor life itself. False +education, false standards, false environment had developed her into a woman +who imagined she must feed her body on the milk and honey of indulgence. +</p> + +<p> +She was abased now—woman as animal, though saved and uplifted by her +power of immortality. Transcendental was her female power to link life with the +future. The power of the plant seed, the power of the earth, the heat of the +sun, the inscrutable creation-spirit of nature, almost the divinity of +God—these were all hers because she was a woman. That was the great +secret, aloof so long. That was what had been wrong with life—the woman +blind to her meaning, her power, her mastery. +</p> + +<p> +So she abandoned herself to the woman within her. She held out her arms to the +blue abyss of heaven as if to embrace the universe. She was Nature. She kissed +the dusty cinders and pressed her breast against the warm slope. Her heart +swelled to bursting with a glorious and unutterable happiness. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> + +That afternoon as the sun was setting under a gold-white scroll of cloud Carley +got back to Deep Lake. +</p> + +<p> +A familiar lounging figure crossed her sight. It approached to where she had +dismounted. Charley, the sheep herder of Oak Creek! +</p> + +<p> +“Howdy!” he drawled, with his queer smile. “So it was you-all +who had this Deep Lake section?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And how are you, Charley?” she replied, shaking hands with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Me? Aw, I’m tip-top. I’m shore glad you got this ranch. +Reckon I’ll hit you for a job.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d give it to you. But aren’t you working for the +Hutters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nope. Not any more. Me an’ Stanton had a row with them.” +</p> + +<p> +How droll and dry he was! His lean, olive-brown face, with its guileless clear +eyes and his lanky figure in blue jeans vividly recalled Oak Creek to Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m sorry,” returned she haltingly, somehow checked in +her warm rush of thought. “Stanton?... Did he quit too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yep. He sure did.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“Reckon because Flo made up to Kilbourne,” replied Charley, with a +grin. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I—I see,” murmured Carley. A blankness seemed to wave +over her. It extended to the air without, to the sense of the golden sunset. It +passed. What should she ask—what out of a thousand sudden flashing +queries? “Are—are the Hutters back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure. Been back several days. I reckoned Hoyle told you. Mebbe he +didn’t know, though. For nobody’s been to town.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is—how are they all?” faltered Carley. There was a +strange wall here between her thought and her utterance. +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody satisfied, I reckon,” replied Charley. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo—how is she?” burst out Carley. +</p> + +<p> +“Aw, Flo’s loony over her husband,” drawled Charley, his +clear eyes on Carley’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Husband!” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure. Flo’s gone an’ went an’ done what I swore +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Who?</i>” whispered Carley, and the query was a terrible blade +piercing her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Now who’d you reckon on?” asked Charley, with his slow grin. +</p> + +<p> +Carley’s lips were mute. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, it was your old beau thet you wouldn’t have,” returned +Charley, as he gathered up his long frame, evidently to leave. +“Kilbourne! He an’ Flo came back from the Tonto all hitched +up.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +Vague sense of movement, of darkness, and of cold attended Carley’s +consciousness for what seemed endless time. +</p> + +<p> +A fall over rocks and a severe thrust from a sharp branch brought an acute +appreciation of her position, if not of her mental state. Night had fallen. The +stars were out. She had stumbled over a low ledge. Evidently she had wandered +around, dazedly and aimlessly, until brought to her senses by pain. But for a +gleam of campfires through the cedars she would have been lost. It did not +matter. She was lost, anyhow. What was it that had happened? +</p> + +<p> +Charley, the sheep herder! Then the thunderbolt of his words burst upon her, +and she collapsed to the cold stones. She lay quivering from head to toe. She +dug her fingers into the moss and lichen. “Oh, God, to think—after +all—it happened!” she moaned. There had been a rending within her +breast, as of physical violence, from which she now suffered anguish. There +were a thousand stinging nerves. There was a mortal sickness of horror, of +insupportable heartbreaking loss. She could not endure it. She could not live +under it. +</p> + +<p> +She lay there until energy supplanted shock. Then she rose to rush into the +darkest shadows of the cedars, to grope here and there, hanging her head, +wringing her hands, beating her breast. “It can’t be true,” +she cried. “Not after my struggle—my victory—not +<i>now!</i>” But there had been no victory. And now it was too late. She +was betrayed, ruined, lost. That wonderful love had wrought transformation in +her—and now havoc. Once she fell against the branches of a thick cedar +that upheld her. The fragrance which had been sweet was now bitter. Life that +had been bliss was now hateful! She could not keep still for a single moment. +</p> + +<p> +Black night, cedars, brush, rocks, washes, seemed not to obstruct her. In a +frenzy she rushed on, tearing her dress, her hands, her hair. Violence of some +kind was imperative. All at once a pale gleaming open space, shimmering under +the stars, lay before her. It was water. Deep Lake! And instantly a hideous +terrible longing to destroy herself obsessed her. She had no fear. She could +have welcomed the cold, slimy depths that meant oblivion. But could they really +bring oblivion? A year ago she would have believed so, and would no longer have +endured such agony. She had changed. A cursed strength had come to her, and it +was this strength that now augmented her torture. She flung wide her arms to +the pitiless white stars and looked up at them. “My hope, my faith, my +love have failed me,” she whispered. “They have been a lie. I went +through hell for them. And now I’ve nothing to live for.... Oh, let me +end it all!” +</p> + +<p> +If she prayed to the stars for mercy, it was denied her. Passionlessly they +blazed on. But she could not kill herself. In that hour death would have been +the only relief and peace left to her. Stricken by the cruelty of her fate, she +fell back against the stones and gave up to grief. Nothing was left but fierce +pain. The youth and vitality and intensity of her then locked arms with anguish +and torment and a cheated, unsatisfied love. Strength of mind and body +involuntarily resisted the ravages of this catastrophe. Will power seemed +nothing, but the flesh of her, that medium of exquisite sensation, so full of +life, so prone to joy, refused to surrender. The part of her that felt fought +terribly for its heritage. +</p> + +<p> +All night long Carley lay there. The crescent moon went down, the stars moved +on their course, the coyotes ceased to wail, the wind died away, the lapping of +the waves along the lake shore wore to gentle splash, the whispering of the +insects stopped as the cold of dawn approached. The darkest hour +fell—hour of silence, solitude, and melancholy, when the desert lay +tranced, cold, waiting, mournful without light of moon or stars or sun. +</p> + +<p> +In the gray dawn Carley dragged her bruised and aching body back to her tent, +and, fastening the door, she threw off wet clothes and boots and fell upon her +bed. Slumber of exhaustion came to her. +</p> + +<p> +When she awoke the tent was light and the moving shadows of cedar boughs on the +white canvas told that the sun was straight above. Carley ached as never +before. A deep pang seemed invested in every bone. Her heart felt swollen out +of proportion to its space in her breast. Her breathing came slow and it hurt. +Her blood was sluggish. Suddenly she shut her eyes. She loathed the light of +day. What was it that had happened? +</p> + +<p> +Then the brutal truth flashed over her again, in aspect new, with all the old +bitterness. For an instant she experienced a suffocating sensation as if the +canvas had sagged under the burden of heavy air and was crushing her breast and +heart. Then wave after wave of emotion swept over her. The storm winds of grief +and passion were loosened again. And she writhed in her misery. +</p> + +<p> +Some one knocked on her door. The Mexican woman called anxiously. Carley awoke +to the fact that her presence was not solitary on the physical earth, even if +her soul seemed stricken to eternal loneliness. Even in the desert there was a +world to consider. Vanity that had bled to death, pride that had been crushed, +availed her not here. But something else came to her support. The lesson of the +West had been to endure, not to shirk—to face an issue, not to hide. +Carley got up, bathed, dressed, brushed and arranged her dishevelled hair. The +face she saw in the mirror excited her amaze and pity. Then she went out in +answer to the call for dinner. But she could not eat. The ordinary functions of +life appeared to be deadened. +</p> + +<p> +The day happened to be Sunday, and therefore the workmen were absent. Carley +had the place to herself. How the half-completed house mocked her! She could +not bear to look at it. What use could she make of it now? Flo Hutter had +become the working comrade of Glenn Kilbourne, the mistress of his cabin. She +was his wife and she would be the mother of his children. +</p> + +<p> +That thought gave birth to the darkest hour of Carley Burch’s life. She +became possessed as by a thousand devils. She became merely a female robbed of +her mate. Reason was not in her, nor charity, nor justice. All that was +abnormal in human nature seemed coalesced in her, dominant, passionate, savage, +terrible. She hated with an incredible and insane ferocity. In the seclusion of +her tent, crouched on her bed, silent, locked, motionless, she yet was the +embodiment of all terrible strife and storm in nature. Her heart was a +maelstrom and would have whirled and sucked down to hell all the beings that +were men. Her soul was a bottomless gulf, filled with the gales and the fires +of jealousy, superhuman to destroy. +</p> + +<p> +That fury consumed all her remaining strength, and from the relapse she sank to +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Morning brought the inevitable reaction. However long her other struggles, this +monumental and final one would be brief. She realized that, yet was unable to +understand how it could be possible, unless shock or death or mental aberration +ended the fight. An eternity of emotion lay back between this awakening of +intelligence and the hour of her fall into the clutches of primitive passion. +</p> + +<p> +That morning she faced herself in the mirror and asked, “Now—what +do I owe <i>you?</i>” It was not her voice that answered. It was beyond +her. But it said: “Go on! You are cut adrift. You are alone. You owe none +but yourself!... Go on! Not backward—not to the depths—but +up—upward!” +</p> + +<p> +She shuddered at such a decree. How impossible for her! All animal, all woman, +all emotion, how could she live on the cold, pure heights? Yet she owed +something intangible and inscrutable to herself. Was it the thing that woman +lacked physically, yet contained hidden in her soul? An element of eternal +spirit to rise! Because of heartbreak and ruin and irreparable loss must she +fall? Was loss of love and husband and children only a test? The present hour +would be swallowed in the sum of life’s trials. She could not go back. +She would not go down. There was wrenched from her tried and sore heart an +unalterable and unquenchable decision—to make her own soul prove the +evolution of woman. Vessel of blood and flesh she might be, doomed by nature to +the reproduction of her kind, but she had in her the supreme spirit and power +to carry on the progress of the ages—the climb of woman out of the +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Carley went out to the workmen. The house should be completed and she would +live in it. Always there was the stretching and illimitable desert to look at, +and the grand heave upward of the mountains. Hoyle was full of zest for the +practical details of the building. He saw nothing of the havoc wrought in her. +Nor did the other workmen glance more than casually at her. In this Carley lost +something of a shirking fear that her loss and grief were patent to all eyes. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon she mounted the most spirited of the mustangs she had purchased +from the Indians. To govern him and stick on him required all her energy. And +she rode him hard and far, out across the desert, across mile after mile of +cedar forest, clear to the foothills. She rested there, absorbed in gazing +desertward, and upon turning back again, she ran him over the level stretches. +Wind and branch threshed her seemingly to ribbons. Violence seemed good for +her. A fall had no fear for her now. She reached camp at dusk, hot as fire, +breathless and strengthless. But she had earned something. Such action required +constant use of muscle and mind. If need be she could drive both to the very +furthermost limit. She could ride and ride—until the future, like the +immensity of the desert there, might swallow her. She changed her clothes and +rested a while. The call to supper found her hungry. In this fact she +discovered mockery of her grief. Love was not the food of life. Exhausted +nature’s need of rest and sleep was no respecter of a woman’s +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Next day Carley rode northward, wildly and fearlessly, as if this conscious +activity was the initiative of an endless number of rides that were to save +her. As before the foothills called her, and she went on until she came to a +very high one. +</p> + +<p> +Carley dismounted from her panting horse, answering the familiar impulse to +attain heights by her own effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I only a weakling?” she asked herself. “Only a creature +mined by the fever of the soul!... Thrown from one emotion to another? Never +the same. Yearning, suffering, sacrificing, hoping, and changing—forever +the same! What is it that drives <i>me?</i> A great city with all its +attractions has failed to help me realize my life. So have friends failed. So +has the world. What can solitude and grandeur do?... All this obsession of +mine—all this strange feeling for simple elemental earthly things +likewise will fail me. Yet I am driven. They would call me a mad woman.” +</p> + +<p> +It took Carley a full hour of slow body-bending labor to climb to the summit of +that hill. High, steep, and rugged, it resisted ascension. But at last she +surmounted it and sat alone on the heights, with naked eyes, and an unconscious +prayer on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +What was it that had happened? Could there be here a different answer from that +which always mocked her? +</p> + +<p> +She had been a girl, not accountable for loss of mother, for choice of home and +education. She had belonged to a class. She had grown to womanhood in it. She +had loved, and in loving had escaped the evil of her day, if not its taint. She +had lived only for herself. Conscience had awakened—but, alas! too late. +She had overthrown the sordid, self-seeking habit of life; she had awakened to +real womanhood; she had fought the insidious spell of modernity and she had +defeated it; she had learned the thrill of taking root in new soil, the pain +and joy of labor, the bliss of solitude, the promise of home and love and +motherhood. But she had gathered all these marvelous things to her soul too +late for happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Now</i> it is answered,” she declared aloud. “That is +what has happened?... And all that is <i>past</i>.... Is there anything left? +If so <i>what?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +She flung her query out to the winds of the desert. But the desert seemed too +gray, too vast, too remote, too aloof, too measureless. It was not concerned +with her little life. Then she turned to the mountain kingdom. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed overpoweringly near at hand. It loomed above her to pierce the fleecy +clouds. It was only a stupendous upheaval of earth-crust, grown over at the +base by leagues and leagues of pine forest, belted along the middle by vast +slanting zigzag slopes of aspen, rent and riven toward the heights into canyon +and gorge, bared above to cliffs and corners of craggy rock, whitened at the +sky-piercing peaks by snow. Its beauty and sublimity were lost upon Carley now; +she was concerned with its travail, its age, its endurance, its strength. And +she studied it with magnified sight. +</p> + +<p> +What incomprehensible subterranean force had swelled those immense slopes and +lifted the huge bulk aloft to the clouds? Cataclysm of nature—the +expanding or shrinking of the earth—vast volcanic action under the +surface! Whatever it had been, it had left its expression of the travail of the +universe. This mountain mass had been hot gas when flung from the parent sun, +and now it was solid granite. What had it endured in the making? What indeed +had been its dimensions before the millions of years of its struggle? +</p> + +<p> +Eruption, earthquake, avalanche, the attrition of glacier, the erosion of +water, the cracking of frost, the weathering of rain and wind and +snow—these it had eternally fought and resisted in vain, yet still it +stood magnificent, frowning, battle-scarred and undefeated. Its sky-piercing +peaks were as cries for mercy to the Infinite. This old mountain realized its +doom. It had to go, perhaps to make room for a newer and better kingdom. But it +endured because of the spirit of nature. The great notched circular line of +rock below and between the peaks, in the body of the mountains, showed where in +ages past the heart of living granite had blown out, to let loose on all the +near surrounding desert the streams of black lava and the hills of black +cinders. Despite its fringe of green it was hoary with age. Every looming +gray-faced wall, massive and sublime, seemed a monument of its mastery over +time. Every deep-cut canyon, showing the skeleton ribs, the caverns and caves, +its avalanche-carved slides, its long, fan-shaped, spreading taluses, carried +conviction to the spectator that it was but a frail bit of rock, that its life +was little and brief, that upon it had been laid the merciless curse of nature. +Change! Change must unknit the very knots of the center of the earth. So its +strength lay in the sublimity of its defiance. It meant to endure to the last +rolling grain of sand. It was a dead mountain of rock, without spirit, yet it +taught a grand lesson to the seeing eye. +</p> + +<p> +Life was only a part, perhaps an infinitely small part of nature’s plan. +Death and decay were just as important to her inscrutable design. The universe +had not been created for life, ease, pleasure, and happiness of a man creature +developed from lower organisms. If nature’s secret was the developing of +a spirit through all time, Carley divined that she had it within her. So the +present meant little. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no right to be unhappy,” concluded Carley. “I had no +right to Glenn Kilbourne. I failed him. In that I failed myself. Neither life +nor nature failed me—nor love. It is no longer a mystery. Unhappiness is +only a change. Happiness itself is only change. So what does it matter? The +great thing is to see life—to understand—to feel—to +work—to fight—to endure. It is not my fault I am here. But it is my +fault if I leave this strange old earth the poorer for my failure.... I will no +longer be little. I will find strength. I will endure.... I still have eyes, +ears, nose, taste. I can feel the sun, the wind, the nip of frost. Must I slink +like a craven because I’ve lost the love of <i>one</i> man? Must I hate +Flo Hutter because she will make Glenn happy? Never!... All of this seems +better so, because through it I am changed. I might have lived on, a selfish +clod!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley turned from the mountain kingdom and faced her future with the profound +and sad and far-seeing look that had come with her lesson. She knew what to +give. Sometime and somewhere there would be recompense. She would hide her +wound in the faith that time would heal it. And the ordeal she set herself, to +prove her sincerity and strength, was to ride down to Oak Creek Canyon. +</p> + +<p> +Carley did not wait many days. Strange how the old vanity held her back until +something of the havoc in her face should be gone! +</p> + +<p> +One morning she set out early, riding her best horse, and she took a sheep +trail across country. The distance by road was much farther. The June morning +was cool, sparkling, fragrant. Mocking birds sang from the topmost twig of +cedars; doves cooed in the pines; sparrow hawks sailed low over the open grassy +patches. Desert primroses showed their rounded pink clusters in sunny places, +and here and there burned the carmine of Indian paintbrush. Jack rabbits and +cotton-tails bounded and scampered away through the sage. The desert had life +and color and movement this June day. And as always there was the dry fragrance +on the air. +</p> + +<p> +Her mustang had been inured to long and consistent travel over the desert. Her +weight was nothing to him and he kept to the swinging lope for miles. As she +approached Oak Creek Canyon, however, she drew him to a trot, and then a walk. +Sight of the deep red-walled and green-floored canyon was a shock to her. +</p> + +<p> +The trail came out on the road that led to Ryan’s sheep camp, at a point +several miles west of the cabin where Carley had encountered Haze Ruff. She +remembered the curves and stretches, and especially the steep jump-off where +the road led down off the rim into the canyon. Here she dismounted and walked. +From the foot of this descent she knew every rod of the way would be familiar +to her, and, womanlike, she wanted to turn away and fly from them. But she kept +on and mounted again at level ground. +</p> + +<p> +The murmur of the creek suddenly assailed her ears—sweet, sad, memorable, +strangely powerful to hurt. Yet the sound seemed of long ago. Down here summer +had advanced. Rich thick foliage overspread the winding road of sand. Then out +of the shade she passed into the sunnier regions of isolated pines. Along here +she had raced Calico with Glenn’s bay; and here she had caught him, and +there was the place she had fallen. She halted a moment under the pine tree +where Glenn had held her in his arms. Tears dimmed her eyes. If only she had +known then the truth, the reality! But regrets were useless. +</p> + +<p> +By and by a craggy red wall loomed above the trees, and its pipe-organ +conformation was familiar to Carley. She left the road and turned to go down to +the creek. Sycamores and maples and great bowlders, and mossy ledges +overhanging the water, and a huge sentinel pine marked the spot where she and +Glenn had eaten their lunch that last day. Her mustang splashed into the clear +water and halted to drink. Beyond, through the trees, Carley saw the sunny +red-earthed clearing that was Glenn’s farm. She looked, and fought +herself, and bit her quivering lip until she tasted blood. Then she rode out +into the open. +</p> + +<p> +The whole west side of the canyon had been cleared and cultivated and plowed. +But she gazed no farther. She did not want to see the spot where she had given +Glenn his ring and had parted from him. She rode on. If she could pass West +Fork she believed her courage would rise to the completion of this ordeal. +Places were what she feared. Places that she had loved while blindly believing +she hated! There the narrow gap of green and blue split the looming red wall. +She was looking into West Fork. Up there stood the cabin. How fierce a pang +rent her breast! She faltered at the crossing of the branch stream, and almost +surrendered. The water murmured, the leaves rustled, the bees hummed, the birds +sang—all with some sad sweetness that seemed of the past. +</p> + +<p> +Then the trail leading up West Fork was like a barrier. She saw horse tracks in +it. Next she descried boot tracks the shape of which was so well-remembered +that it shook her heart. There were fresh tracks in the sand, pointing in the +direction of the Lodge. Ah! that was where Glenn lived now. Carley strained at +her will to keep it fighting her memory. The glory and the dream were gone! +</p> + +<p> +A touch of spur urged her mustang into a gallop. The splashing ford of the +creek—the still, eddying pool beyond—the green orchards—the +white lacy waterfall—and Lolomi Lodge! +</p> + +<p> +Nothing had altered. But Carley seemed returning after many years. Slowly she +dismounted—slowly she climbed the porch steps. Was there no one at home? +Yet the vacant doorway, the silence—something attested to the knowledge +of Carley’s presence. Then suddenly Mrs. Hutter fluttered out with Flo +behind her. +</p> + +<p> +“You dear girl—I’m so glad!” cried Mrs. Hutter, her +voice trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to see you, too,” said Carley, bending to receive +Mrs. Hutter’s embrace. Carley saw dim eyes—the stress of agitation, +but no surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Oh, Carley!</i>” burst out the Western girl, with voice rich +and full, yet tremulous. +</p> + +<p> +“Flo, I’ve come to wish you happiness,” replied Carley, very +low. +</p> + +<p> +Was it the same Flo? This seemed more of a woman—strange now—white +and strained—beautiful, eager, questioning. A cry of gladness burst from +her. Carley felt herself enveloped in strong close clasp—and then a warm, +quick kiss of joy. It shocked her, yet somehow thrilled. Sure was the welcome +here. Sure was the strained situation, also, but the voice rang too glad a note +for Carley. It touched her deeply, yet she could not understand. She had not +measured the depth of Western friendship. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you—seen Glenn?” queried Flo, breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, indeed not,” replied Carley, slowly gaining composure. The +nervous agitation of these women had stilled her own. “I just rode up the +trail. Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was here—a moment ago,” panted Flo. “Oh, Carley, we +sure are locoed. ... Why, we only heard an hour ago—that <i>you</i> were +at Deep Lake.... Charley rode in. He told us.... I thought my heart would +break. Poor Glenn! When he heard it.... But never mind <i>me</i>. Jump your +horse and run to West Fork!” +</p> + +<p> +The spirit of her was like the strength of her arms as she hurried Carley +across the porch and shoved her down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Climb on and run, Carley,” cried Flo. “If you only knew how +glad he’ll be that you came!” +</p> + +<p> +Carley leaped into the saddle and wheeled the mustang. But she had no answer +for the girl’s singular, almost wild exultance. Then like a shot the +spirited mustang was off down the lane. Carley wondered with swelling heart. +Was her coming such a wondrous surprise—so unexpected and big in +generosity—something that would make Kilbourne as glad as it had seemed +to make Flo? Carley thrilled to this assurance. +</p> + +<p> +Down the lane she flew. The red walls blurred and the sweet wind whipped her +face. At the trail she swerved the mustang, but did not check his gait. Under +the great pines he sped and round the bulging wall. At the rocky incline +leading to the creek she pulled the fiery animal to a trot. How low and clear +the water! As Carley forded it fresh cool drops splashed into her face. Again +she spurred her mount and again trees and walls rushed by. Up and down the +yellow bits of trail—on over the brown mats of pine needles—until +there in the sunlight shone the little gray log cabin with a tall form standing +in the door. One instant the canyon tilted on end for Carley and she was riding +into the blue sky. Then some magic of soul sustained her, so that she saw +clearly. Reaching the cabin she reined in her mustang. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Glenn! Look who’s here!” she cried, not wholly +failing of gayety. +</p> + +<p> +He threw up his sombrero. +</p> + +<p> +“Whoopee!” he yelled, in stentorian voice that rolled across the +canyon and bellowed in hollow echo and then clapped from wall to wall. The +unexpected Western yell, so strange from Glenn, disconcerted Carley. Had he +only answered her spirit of greeting? Had hers rung false? +</p> + +<p> +But he was coming to her. She had seen the bronze of his face turn to white. +How gaunt and worn he looked. Older he appeared, with deeper lines and whiter +hair. His jaw quivered. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley Burch, so it was <i>you?</i>” he queried, hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“Glenn, I reckon it was,” she replied. “I bought your Deep +Lake ranch site. I came back too late.... But it is never too late for some +things.... I’ve come to wish you and Flo all the happiness in the +world—and to say we must be friends.” +</p> + +<p> +The way he looked at her made her tremble. He strode up beside the mustang, and +he was so tall that his shoulder came abreast of her. He placed a big warm hand +on hers, as it rested, ungloved, on the pommel of the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Flo?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I just left her. It was funny—the way she rushed me off after you. +As if there weren’t two—” +</p> + +<p> +Was it Glenn’s eyes or the movement of his hand that checked her +utterance? His gaze pierced her soul. His hand slid along her arm to her +waist—around it. Her heart seemed to burst. +</p> + +<p> +“Kick your feet out of the stirrups,” he ordered. +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively she obeyed. Then with a strong pull he hauled her half out of the +saddle, pellmell into his arms. Carley had no resistance. She sank limp, in an +agony of amaze. Was this a dream? Swift and hard his lips met hers—and +again—and again.... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!—Glenn, are—you—mad?” she whispered, +almost swooning. +</p> + +<p> +“Sure—I reckon I am,” he replied, huskily, and pulled her all +the way out of the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +Carley would have fallen but for his support. She could not think. She was all +instinct. Only the amaze—the sudden horror—drifted—faded as +before fires of her heart! +</p> + +<p> +“Kiss me!” he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +She would have kissed him if death were the penalty. How his face blurred in +her dimmed sight! Was that a strange smile? Then he held her back from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Carley—you came to wish Flo and me happiness?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes—yes.... Pity me, Glenn—let me go. I meant well.... I +should—never have come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you love me?” he went on, with passionate, shaking clasp. +</p> + +<p> +“God help me—I do—I do!... And now it will kill me!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did that damned fool Charley tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +The strange content of his query, the trenchant force of it, brought her +upright, with sight suddenly cleared. Was this giant the tragic Glenn who had +strode to her from the cabin door? +</p> + +<p> +“Charley told me—you and Flo—were married,” she +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t <i>believe</i> him!” returned Glenn. +</p> + +<p> +She could no longer speak. She could only see her lover, as if transfigured, +limned dark against the looming red wall. +</p> + +<p> +“That was one of Charley’s queer jokes. I told you to beware of +him. Flo is married, yes—and very happy.... I’m unutterably happy, +too—but I’m <i>not</i> married. Lee Stanton was the lucky +bridegroom.... Carley, the moment I saw you I knew you had come back to +me.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CALL OF THE CANYON ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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