The Call of the Canyon | Page 8

the
West.
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.
"No, ma'am. Them's wild turkeys," replied the driver, "an' shore the
best eatin' you ever had in your life."
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.
"An' them's antelope," he said. "Once this desert was overrun by
antelope. Then they nearly disappeared. An' now they're increasin'
again."
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.
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.

"Wal, hyar's Oak Creek Canyon," called the driver.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
CHAPTER II
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.
The