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

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."

My Occupation During These Leisure Hours Perhaps Would Strike My Old

Friends East As Idle,  Silly,  Mawkish. But I Believe You Will Understand Me.

I Have The Pleasure Of Doing Nothing,  And Of Catching Now And Then A

Glimpse Of Supreme Joy In The Strange State Of Thinking Nothing. Tennyson

Came Close To This In His "Lotus Eaters." Only To See--Only To Feel Is

Enough!

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.

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!

I Append What Little News Oak Creek Affords.

That Blamed Old Bald Eagle Stole Another Of My Pigs.

I Am Doing So Well With My Hog-Raising That Hutter Wants To Come In With

Me,  Giving Me An Interest In His Sheep.

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.

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!

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.

Adios,  Carley. Won't You Write Me?

Glenn.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

A Nurse Admitted Carley Into A Small Bare Anteroom. Carley Made Known Her

Errand.

"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?"

"I Don't Know Him," Answered Carley. "But I Have A Friend Who Was With Him

In France."

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.

Presently Carley Stood Beside A Bed And Looked Down Upon A Gaunt,  Haggard

Young Man Who Lay Propped Up On Pillows.

"Rust--A Lady To See You," Announced The Nurse.

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.

"How Do!" He Said,  With A Wan Smile. "Who're You?"

"I'm Glenn Kilbourne's Fiancee," She Replied,  Holding Out Her Hand.

"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."

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."

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.

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.

That Night She Wrote Swiftly And