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

Her Nature,

But At That Moment Of Outraged Womanhood,  And Of Revolt Against The West,

She Would Not Listen. It Might,  Too,  Have Been The Still Small Voice Of

Conscience. But Decision Of Mind And Energy Coming To Her Then,  She Threw

Off The Burden Of Emotion And Perplexity,  And Forced Herself Into Composure

Before The Arrival Of Glenn.

 

The Dust Had Ceased To Blow,  Although The Wind Had By No Means Died Away.

Sunset Marked The West In Old Rose And Gold,  A Vast Flare. Carley Espied A

Horseman Far Down The Road,  And Presently Recognized Both Rider And Steed.

He Was Coming Fast. She Went Out And,  Mounting Her Mustang,  She Rode Out To

Meet Glenn. It Did Not Appeal To Her To Wait For Him At The Cabin; Besides

Hoof Tracks Other Than Those Made By Her Mustang Might Have Been Noticed By

Glenn. Presently He Came Up To Her And Pulled His Loping Horse.

 

"Hello! I Sure Was Worried," Was His Greeting,  As His Gloved Hand Went Out

To Her. "Did You Run Into That Sandstorm?"

 

"It Ran Into Me,  Glenn,  And Buried Me," She Laughed.

 

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His Fine Eyes Lingered On Her Face With Glad And Warm Glance,  And The Keen,

Apprehensive Penetration Of A Lover.

 

"Well,  Under All That Dust You Look Scared," He Said.

 

"Scared! I Was Worse Than That. When I First Ran Into The Flying Dirt I Was

Only Afraid I'd Lose My Way--And My Complexion. But When The Worst Of The

Storm Hit Me--Then I Feared I'd Lose My Breath."

 

"Did You Face That Sand And Ride Through It All?" He Queried.

 

"No,  Not All. But Enough. I Went Through The Worst Of It Before I Reached

The Cabin," She Replied.

 

"Wasn't It Great?"

 

"Yes--Great Bother And Annoyance," She Said,  Laconically.

 

Whereupon He Reached With Long,  Arm And Wrapped It Round Her As They

Rocked Side By Side. Demonstrations Of This Nature Were Infrequent With Glenn.

Despite Losing One Foot Out Of A Stirrup And Her Seat In The Saddle Carley

Rather Encouraged It. He Kissed Her Dusty Face,  And Then Set Her Back.

 

"By George! Carley,  Sometimes I Think You've Changed Since You've Been

Here," He Said,  With Warmth. "To Go Through That Sandstorm Without One

Kick--One Knock At My West!"

 

"Glenn,  I Always Think Of What Flo Says--The Worst Is Yet To Come," Replied

Carley,  Trying To Hide Her Unreasonable And Tumultuous Pleasure At Words Of

Praise From Him.

 

"Carley Burch,  You Don't Know Yourself," He Declared,  Enigmatically.

 

"What Woman Knows Herself? But Do You Know Me?"

 

"Not I. Yet Sometimes I See Depths In You--Wonderful Possibilities--

Submerged Under Your Poise--Under Your Fixed,  Complacent Idle Attitude

Toward Life."

 

This Seemed For Carley To Be Dangerously Skating Near Thin Ice,  But She

Could Not Resist A Retort:

 

"Depths In Me? Why I Am A Shallow,  Transparent Stream Like Your West Fork!

. . . And As For Possibilities--May I Ask What Of Them You Imagine You See?"

 

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"As A Girl,  Before You Were Claimed By The World,  You Were Earnest At

Heart. You Had Big Hopes And Dreams. And You Had Intellect,  Too. But You

Have Wasted Your Talents,  Carley. Having Money,  And Spending It,  Living For

Pleasure,  You Have Not Realized Your Powers. . . . Now,  Don't Look Hurt.

I'm Not Censuring You,  It's Just The Way Of Modern Life. And Most Of Your

Friends Have Been More Careless,  Thoughtless,  Useless Than You. The Aim Of

Their Existence Is To Be Comfortable,  Free From Work,  Worry,  Pain. They

Want Pleasure,  Luxury. And What A Pity It Is! The Best Of You Girls Regard

Marriage As An Escape,  Instead Of Responsibility. You Don't Marry To Get

Your Shoulders Square Against The Old Wheel Of American Progress--To Help

Some Man Make Good--To Bring A Troop Of Healthy American Kids Into The

World. You Bare Your Shoulders To The Gaze Of The Multitude And Like It

Best If You Are Strung With Pearls."

 

"Glenn,  You Distress Me When You Talk Like This," Replied Carley,  Soberly.

"You Did Not Use To Talk So. It Seems To Me You Are Bitter Against Women."

 

"Oh No,  Carley! I Am Only Sad," He Said. "I Only See Where Once I Was

Blind. American Women Are The Finest On Earth,  But As A Race,  If They Don't

Change,  They're Doomed To Extinction."

 

"How Can You Say Such Things?" Demanded Carley,  With Spirit.

 

"I Say Them Because They Are True. Carley,  On The Level Now,  Tell Me How

Many Of Your Immediate Friends Have Children."

 

Put To A Test,  Carley Rapidly Went Over In Mind Her Circle Of Friends,  With

The Result That She Was Somewhat Shocked And Amazed To Realize How Few Of

Them Were Even Married,  And How The Babies Of Her Acquaintance Were Limited

To Three. It Was Not Easy To Admit This To Glenn.

 

"My Dear," Replied He,  "If That Does Not Show You The Handwriting On The

Wall,  Nothing Ever Will."

 

"A Girl Has To Find A Husband,  Doesn't She?" Asked Carley,  Roused To

Defense Of Her Sex. "And If She's Anybody She Has To Find One In Her Set.

Well,  Husbands Are Not Plentiful. Marriage Certainly Is Not The End Of

Existence These Days. We Have To Get Along Somehow. The High Cost Of Living

Is No Inconsderable Factor Today. Do You Know That Most Of The Better-Class

Apartment Houses In New York Will Not Take Children? Women Are Not All To

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Blame. Take The Speed Mania. Men Must Have Automobiles. I Know One Girl Who

Wanted A Baby,  But Her Husband Wanted A Car. They Couldn't Afford Both."

 

"Carley,  I'm Not Blaming Women More Than Men," Returned Glenn. "I Don't

Know That I Blame Them As A Class. But In My Own Mind I Have Worked It All

Out. Every Man Or Woman Who Is Genuinely American Should Read The Signs Of

The Times,  Realize The Crisis,  And Meet It In An American Way. Otherwise We

Are Done As A Race. Money Is God In The Older Countries. But It Should

Never Become God In America. If It Does We Will Make The Fall Of Rome Pale

Into Insignificance."

 

"Glenn,  Let's Put Off The Argument," Appealed Carley. "I'm Not--Just Up To

Fighting You Today. Oh--You Needn't Smile. I'm Not Showing A Yellow Streak,

As Flo Puts It. I'll Fight You Some Other Time."

 

"You're Right,  Carley," He Assented. "Here We Are Loafing Six Or Seven

Miles From Home. Let's Rustle Along."

 

Riding Fast With Glenn Was Something Carley Had Only Of Late Added To Her

Achievements. She Had Greatest Pride In It. So She Urged Her Mustang To

Keep Pace With Glenn's Horse And Gave Herself Up To The Thrill Of The

Motion And Feel Of Wind And Sense Of Flying Along. At A Good Swinging Lope

Calico Covered Ground Swiftly And Did Not Tire. Carley Rode The Two Miles

To The Rim Of The Canyon,  Keeping Alongside Of Glenn All The Way. Indeed,

For One Long Level Stretch She And Glenn Held Hands. When They Arrived At

The Descent,  Which Necessitated Slow And Careful Riding,  She Was Hot And

Tingling And Breathless,  Worked By The Action Into An Exuberance Of

Pleasure. Glenn Complimented Her Riding As Well As Her Rosy Cheeks. There

Was Indeed A Sweetness In Working At A Task As She Had Worked To Learn To

Ride In Western Fashion. Every Turn Of Her Mind Seemed To Confront Her With

Sobering Antitheses Of Thought. Why Had She Come To Love To Ride Down A

Lonely Desert Road,  Through Ragged Cedars Where The Wind Whipped Her Face

With Fragrant Wild Breath,  If At The Same Time She Hated The West? Could

She Hate A Country,  However Barren And Rough,  If It Had Saved The Health

And Happiness Of Her Future Husband? Verily There Were Problems For Carley

To Solve.

 

Early Twilight Purple Lay Low In The Hollows And Clefts Of The Canyon. Over

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The Western Rim A Pale Ghost Of The Evening Star Seemed To Smile At Carley,

To Bid Her Look And Look. Like A Strain Of Distant Music,  The Dreamy Hum Of

Falling Water,  The Murmur And Melody Of The Stream,  Came Again To Carley's

Sensitive Ear.

 

"Do You Love This?" Asked Glenn,  When They Reached The Green-Forested

Canyon Floor,  With The Yellow Road Winding Away Into The Purple Shadows.

 

"Yes,  Both The Ride--And You," Flashed Carley,  Contrarily. She Knew He Had

Meant The Deep-Walled Canyon With Its Brooding Solitude.

 

"But I Want You To Love Arizona," He Said.

 

"Glenn,  I'm A Faithful Creature. You Should Be Glad Of That. I Love New

York."

 

"Very Well,  Then. Arizona To New York," He Said,  Lightly Brushing Her Cheek

With His Lips. And Swerving Back Into His Saddle,  He Spurred His Horse And

Called Back Over His Shoulder: "That Mustang And Flo Have Beaten Me Many A

Time. Come On."

 

It Was Not So Much His Words As His Tone And Look That Roused Carley. Had

He Resented Her Loyalty To The City Of Her Nativity? Always There Was A

Little Rift In The Lute. Had His Tone And Look Meant That Flo Might Catch

Him If Carley Could Not? Absurd As The Idea Was,  It Spurred Her To

Recklessness. Her Mustang Did Not Need Any More Than To Know She Wanted Him

To Run. The Road Was Of Soft Yellow Earth Flanked With Green Foliage And

Overspread By Pines. In A Moment She Was Racing At A Speed She Had Never

Before Half Attained On A Horse. Down The Winding Road Glenn's Big Steed

Sped,  His Head Low,  His Stride Tremendous,  His Action Beautiful. But Carley

Saw The Distance Between Them Diminishing. Calico Was Overtaking The Bay.

She Cried Out In The