The Call Of The Canyon - Zane Grey (easy readers TXT) 📗

Before The Snow Came," He Said,  Smiling.

 

"Snow! Did It Snow?" She Inquired.

 

"Well,  I Guess. I Was Snowed In For A Week."

 

"Why Did You Choose This Lonely Place--Way Off From The Lodge?" She Asked,

Slowly.

 

"I Wanted To Be By Myself," He Replied,  Briefly.

 

"You Mean This Is A Sort Of Camp-Out Place?"

 

"Carley,  I Call It My Home," He Replied,  And There Was A Low,  Strong

Sweetness In His Voice She Had Never Heard Before.

 

That Silenced Her For A While. She Went To The Door And Gazed Up At The

Towering Wall,  More Wonderful Than Ever,  And More Fearful,  Too,  In Her

Sight. Presently Tears Dimmed Her Eyes. She Did Not Understand Her Feeling;

She Was Ashamed Of It; She Hid It From Glenn. Indeed,  There Was Something

Terribly Wrong Between Her And Glenn,  And It Was Not In Him. This Cabin He

Called Home Gave Her A Shock Which Would Take Time To Analyze. At Length

She Turned To Him With Gay Utterance Upon Her Lips. She Tried To Put Out Of

Her Mind A Dawning Sense That This Close-To-The-Earth Habitation,  This

Primitive Dwelling,  Held Strange Inscrutable Power Over A Self She Had

Never Divined She Possessed. The Very Stones In The Hearth Seemed To Call

Out From Some Remote Past,  And The Strong Sweet Smell Of Burnt Wood

Thrilled To The Marrow Of Her Bones. How Little She Knew Of Herself! But

She Had Intelligence Enough To Understand That There Was A Woman In Her,

The Female Of The Species; And Through That The Sensations From Logs And

Stones And Earth And Fire Had Strange Power To Call Up The Emotions Handed

Down To Her From The Ages. The Thrill,  The Queer Heartbeat,  The Vague,

Haunting Memory Of Something,  As Of A Dim Childhood Adventure,  The Strange

Prickling Sense Of Dread--These Abided With Her And Augmented While She

Tried To Show Glenn Her Pride In Him And Also How Funny His Cabin Seemed To

Her.

 

Once Or Twice He Hesitatingly,  And Somewhat Appealingly,  She Imagined,

Tried To Broach The Subject Of His Work There In The West. But Carley

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Wanted A Little While With Him Free Of Disagreeable Argument. It Was A

Foregone Conclusion That She Would Not Like His Work. Her Intention At

First Had Been To Begin At Once To Use All Persuasion In Her Power Toward

Having Him Go Back East With Her,  Or At The Latest Some Time This Year. But

The Rude Log Cabin Had Checked Her Impulse. She Felt That Haste Would Be

Unwise.

 

"Glenn Kilbourne,  I Told You Why I Came West To See You," She Said,

Spiritedly. "Well,  Since You Still Swear Allegiance To Your Girl From The

East,  You Might Entertain Her A Little Bit Before Getting Down To Business

Talk."

 

"All Right,  Carley," He Replied,  Laughing. "What Do You Want To Do? The Day

Is At Your Disposal. I Wish It Were June. Then If You Didn't Fall In Love

With West Fork You'd Be No Good."

 

"Glenn,  I Love People,  Not Places," She Returned.

 

"So I Remember. And That's One Thing I Don't Like. But Let's Not Quarrel.

What'll We Do?"

 

"Suppose You Tramp With Me All Around,  Until I'm Good And Hungry. Then

We'll Come Back Here--And You Can Cook Dinner For Me."

 

"Fine! Oh,  I Know You're Just Bursting With Curiosity To See How I'll Do

It. Well,  You May Be Surprised,  Miss."

 

"Let's Go," She Urged.

 

"Shall I Take My Gun Or Fishing Rod?"

 

"You Shall Take Nothing But Me," Retorted Carley. "What Chance Has A Girl

With A Man,  If He Can Hunt Or Fish?"

 

So They Went Out Hand In Hand. Half Of The Belt Of Sky Above Was Obscured

By Swiftly Moving Gray Clouds. The Other Half Was Blue And Was Being Slowly

Encroached Upon By The Dark Storm-Like Pall. How Cold The Air! Carley Had

Already Learned That When The Sun Was Hidden The Atmosphere Was Cold. Glenn

Led Her Down A Trail To The Brook,  Where He Calmly Picked Her Up In His

Arms,  Quite Easily,  It Appeared,  And Leisurely Packed Her Across,  Kissing

Her Half A Dozen Times Before He Deposited Her On Her Feet.

 

"Glenn,  You Do This Sort Of Thing So Well That It Makes Me Imagine You Have

Practice Now And Then," She Said.

 

"No. But You Are Pretty And Sweet,  And Like The Girl You Were Four Years

Chapter 3 Pg 47

Ago. That Takes Me Back To Those Days."

 

"I Thank You. That's Dear Of You. I Think I Am Something Of A Cat. . . .

I'll Be Glad If This Walk Leads Us Often To The Creek."

 

Spring Might Have Been Fresh And Keen In The Air,  But It Had Not Yet

Brought Much Green To The Brown Earth Or To The Trees. The Cotton-Woods

Showed A Light Feathery Verdure. The Long Grass Was A Bleached White,  And

Low Down Close To The Sod Fresh Tiny Green Blades Showed. The Great Fern

Leaves Were Sear And Ragged,  And They Rustled In The Breeze. Small Gray

Sheath-Barked Trees With Clumpy Foliage And Snags Of Dead Branches,  Glenn

Called Cedars; And,  Grotesque As These Were,  Carley Rather Liked Them. They

Were Approachable,  Not Majestic And Lofty Like The Pines,  And They Smelled

Sweetly Wild,  And Best Of All They Afforded Some Protection From The Bitter

Wind. Carley Rested Better Than She Walked. The Huge Sections Of Red Rock

That Had Tumbled From Above Also Interested Carley,  Especially When The Sun

Happened To Come Out For A Few Moments And Brought Out Their Color. She

Enjoyed Walking On The Fallen Pines,  With Glenn Below,  Keeping Pace With

Her And Holding Her Hand. Carley Looked In Vain For Flowers And Birds. The

Only Living Things She Saw Were Rainbow Trout That Glenn Pointed Out To Her

In The Beautiful Clear Pools. The Way The Great Gray Bowlders Trooped Down

To The Brook As If They Were Cattle Going To Drink; The Dark Caverns Under

The Shelving Cliffs,  Where The Water Murmured With Such Hollow Mockery; The

Low Spear-Pointed Gray Plants,  Resembling Century Plants,  And Which Glenn

Called Mescal Cactus,  Each With Its Single Straight Dead Stalk Standing On

High With Fluted Head; The Narrow Gorges,  Perpendicularly Walled In Red,

Where The Constricted Brook Plunged In Amber And White Cascades Over Fall

After Fall,  Tumbling,  Rushing,  Singing Its Water Melody--These All Held

Singular Appeal For Carley As Aspects Of The Wild Land,  Fascinating For The

Moment,  Symbolic Of The Lonely Red Man And His Forbears,  And By Their Raw

Contrast Making More Necessary And Desirable And Elevating The Comforts And

Conventions Of Civilization. The Cave Man Theory Interested Carley Only As

Mythology.

 

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Lonelier,  Wilder,  Grander Grew Glenn's Canyon. Carley Was Finally Forced To

Shift Her Attention From The Intimate Objects Of The Canyon Floor To The

Aloof And Unattainable Heights. Singular To Feel The Difference! That Which

She Could See Close At Hand,  Touch If She Willed,  Seemed To,  Become Part Of

Her Knowledge,  Could Be Observed And So Possessed And Passed By. But The

Gold-Red Ramparts Against The Sky,  The Crannied Cliffs,  The Crags Of The

Eagles,  The Lofty,  Distant Blank Walls,  Where The Winds Of The Gods Had

Written Their Wars--These Haunted Because They Could Never Be Possessed.

Carley Had Often Gazed At The Alps As At Celebrated Pictures. She Admired,

She Appreciated--Then She Forgot. But The Canyon Heights Did Not Affect Her

That Way. They Vaguely Dissatisfied,  And As She Could Not Be Sure Of What

They Dissatisfied,  She Had To Conclude That It Was In Herself. To See,  To

Watch,  To Dream,  To Seek,  To Strive,  To Endure,  To Find! Was That What They

Meant? They Might Make Her Thoughtful Of The Vast Earth,  And Its Endless

Age,  And Its Staggering Mystery. But What More!

 

The Storm That Had Threatened Blackened The Sky,  And Gray Scudding Clouds

Buried The Canyon Rims,  And Long Veils Of Rain And Sleet Began To Descend.

The Wind Roared Through The Pines,  Drowning The Roar Of The Brook. Quite

Suddenly The Air Grew Piercingly Cold. Carley Had Forgotten Her Gloves,  And

Her Pockets Had Not Been Constructed To Protect Hands. Glenn Drew Her Into

A Sheltered Nook Where A Rock Jutted Out From Overhead And A Thicket Of

Young Pines Helped Break The Onslaught Of The Wind. There Carley Sat On A

Cold Rock,  Huddled Up Close To Glenn,  And Wearing To A State She Knew Would

Be Misery. Glenn Not Only Seemed Content; He Was Happy. "This Is Great," He

Said. His Coat Was Open,  His Hands Uncovered,  And He Watched The Storm And

Listened With Manifest Delight. Carley Hated To Betray What A Weakling She

Was,  So She Resigned Herself To Her Fate,  And Imagined She Felt Her Fingers

Numbing Into Ice,  And Her Sensitive Nose Slowly And Painfully Freezing.

 

The Storm Passed,  However,  Before Carley Sank Into Abject And Open

Wretchedness. She Managed To Keep Pace With Glenn Until Exercise Warmed Her

Blood. At Every Little Ascent In The Trail She Found Herself Laboring To

Get Her Breath. There Was Assuredly Evidence Of Abundance Of Air In This

Chapter 3 Pg 49

Canyon,  But Somehow She Could Not Get Enough Of It. Glenn Detected This And

Said It Was Owing To The Altitude. When They Reached The Cabin Carley Was

Wet,  Stiff,  Cold,  Exhausted. How Welcome The Shelter,  The Open Fireplace!

Seeing The Cabin In New Light,  Carley Had The Grace To Acknowledge To

Herself That,  After All,  It Was Not So Bad.

 

"Now For A Good Fire And Then Dinner," Announced Glenn,  With The Air Of One

Who Knew His Ground.

 

"Can I Help?" Queried Carley.

 

"Not Today. I Do Not Want You To Spring Any Domestic Science On Me Now."

Carley