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

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.

"Carley,  That Was Coming To You," Said Glenn,  Presently,  With Deep,  Heavy

Expulsion Of Breath.

"I Only Know I Love You--More--More," She Cried,  Wildly,  Looking Up And

Wanting Desperately To Throw Herself In His Arms.

"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."

"Yes--Yes," Exclaimed Carley,  Gladly. "I'm Ready To--To Go Pet Your Hogs

--Anything."

"By George! I'll Take You Up," He Declared. "I'll Bet You Won't Go Near One

Of My Hogpens."

"Lead Me To It!" She Replied,  With A Hilarity That Was Only A Nervous

Reversion Of Her State.

"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."

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.

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.

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?

"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."

"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."

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.

"Carley Burch,  Take It In Your Hands," Commanded Glenn.

The Feat Seemed Monstrous And Impossible Of Accomplishment For Carley. Yet

Such Was Her Temper At The Moment That She Would Have Undertaken Anything.

"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.

"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."

"Wouldn't It Please You More To Tell Him Yourself?" Asked Carley.

"Yes,  It Would," Declared Glenn,  Grimly.

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.

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.

When He Had Finished,  And Excused Himself To Go Repair A Weak Place In The

Corral Fence,  Carley Sat Silent,  Wrapped In Strange Meditation.

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.

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?

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