The Call Of The Canyon by Zane Grey (most inspirational books .txt) 📕

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.

"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."

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.

"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."

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.

"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?"

"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.

"Come On," He Called. "I Want To See You Cross The Stepping Stones."

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.

"Glenn,  I Could Never Make It," She Called.

"Come On,  My Alpine Climber," He Taunted. "Will You Let Arizona Daunt You?"

"Do You Want Me To Fall In And Catch Cold?" She Cried,  Desperately.

"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."

"Say,  Are You Mangling Tennyson Or Just Kidding Me?" She Demanded Slangily.

"My Love,  Flo Could Cross Here With Her Eyes Shut."

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.

"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."

"I Wouldn't Advise You To Employ Any Such Means Again--To Dare Me," She

Retorted.

"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."

"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."

"I Agree With You," Replied Glenn.

Carley Locked Her Arm In His. "Honey,  I Want To Have A Good Time Today.

Cut Out All The Other Women Stuff. . . . Take Me To See Your Little Gray

Home In The West. Or Is It Gray?"

He Laughed. "Why,  Yes,  It's Gray,  Just About. The Logs Have Bleached Some."

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.

"Here We Are,  Sweetheart," Said Glenn. "Now We Shall See What You Are Made

Of."

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.

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.

"You Couldn't Have Pleased Me More."

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.

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.

"Glenn--You've Actually Lived Here!" She Ejaculated.

"Since Last Fall