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

Managed To Partake A Little. Then She Went Upstairs Into The Lobby And Out

Into The Street.

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.

"Oh! How Perfectly Splendid!" She Burst Out.

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.

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.

"What Mountains Are Those?" She Asked A Passer-By.

"San Francisco Peaks,  Ma'am," Replied The Man.

"Why,  They Can't Be Over A Mile Away!" She Said.

"Eighteen Miles,  Ma'am," He Returned,  With A Grin. "Shore This Arizonie Air

Is Deceivin'."

"How Strange," Murmured Carley. "It's Not That Way In The Adirondacks."

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.

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.

"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'?"

"No,  I Have Not," Replied Carley. "I'll Have To Stand It. Did You Say This

Was Desert?"

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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