The Call Of The Canyon - Zane Grey (easy readers TXT) 📗
- Author: Zane Grey
Book online «The Call Of The Canyon - Zane Grey (easy readers TXT) 📗». Author Zane Grey
Drew The Blinds Down And Read Her Magazines. Then Tiring Of That, She Went
Back To The Observation Car. Carley Was Accustomed To Attracting Attention,
And Did Not Resent It, Unless She Was Annoyed. The Train Evidently Had A
Full Complement Of Passengers, Who, As Far As Carley Could See, Were People
Not Of Her Station In Life. The Glare From The Many Windows, And The Rather
Crass Interest Of Several Men, Drove Her Back To Her Own Section. There She
Discovered That Some One Had Drawn Up Her Window Shades. Carley Promptly
Pulled Them Down And Settled Herself Comfortably. Then She Heard A Woman
Speak, Not Particularly Low: "I Thought People Traveled West To See The
Country." And A Man Replied, Rather Dryly. "Wal, Not Always." His Companion
Went On: "If That Girl Was Mine I'd Let Down Her Skirt." The Man Laughed
And Replied: "Martha, You're Shore Behind The Times. Look At The Pictures
In The Magazines."
Such Remarks Amused Carley, And Later She Took Advantage Of An Opportunity
To Notice Her Neighbors. They Appeared A Rather Quaint Old Couple,
Reminding Her Of The Natives Of Country Towns In The Adirondacks. She Was
Not Amused, However, When Another Of Her Woman Neighbors, Speaking Low,
Referred To Her As A "Lunger." Carley Appreciated The Fact That She Was
Pale, But She Assured Herself That There Ended Any Possible Resemblance She
Might Have To A Consumptive. And She Was Somewhat Pleased To Hear This
Woman's Male Companion Forcibly Voice Her Own Convictions. In Fact, He Was
Nothing If Not Admiring.
Kansas Was Interminably Long To Carley, And She Went To Sleep Before Riding
Out Of It. Next Morning She Found Herself Looking Out At The Rough Gray And
Black Land Of New Mexico. She Searched The Horizon For Mountains, But There
Did Not Appear To Be Any. She Received A Vague, Slow-Dawning Impression
That Was Hard To Define. She Did Not Like The Country, Though That Was Not
The Impression Which Eluded Her. Bare Gray Flats, Low Scrub-Fringed Hills,
Bleak Cliffs, Jumble After Jumble Of Rocks, And Occasionally A Long Vista
Down A Valley, Somehow Compelling--These Passed Before Her Gaze Until She
Tired Of Them. Where Was The West Glenn Had Written About? One Thing Seemed
Sure, And It Was That Every Mile Of This Crude Country Brought Her Nearer
Chapter 1 Pg 11To Him. This Recurring Thought Gave Carley All The Pleasure She Had Felt So
Far In This Endless Ride. It Struck Her That England Or France Could Be
Dropped Down Into New Mexico And Scarcely Noticed.
By And By The Sun Grew Hot, The Train Wound Slowly And Creakingly Upgrade,
The Car Became Full Of Dust, All Of Which Was Disagreeable To Carley. She
Dozed On Her Pillow For Hours, Until She Was Stirred By A Passenger Crying
Out, Delightedly: "Look! Indians!"
Carley Looked, Not Without Interest. As A Child She Had Read About Indians,
And Memory Returned Images Both Colorful And Romantic. From The Car Window
She Espied Dusty Flat Barrens, Low Squat Mud Houses, And Queer-Looking
Little People, Children Naked Or Extremely Ragged And Dirty, Women In Loose
Garments With Flares Of Red, And Men In White Man's Garb, Slovenly And
Motley. All These Strange Individuals Stared Apathetically As The Train
Slowly Passed.
"Indians," Muttered Carley, Incredulously. "Well, If They Are The Noble Red
People, My Illusions Are Dispelled." She Did Not Look Out Of The Window
Again, Not Even When The Brakeman Called Out The Remarkable Name Of
Albuquerque.
Next Day Carley's Languid Attention Quickened To The Name Of Arizona, And
To The Frowning Red Walls Of Rock, And To The Vast Rolling Stretches Of
Cedar-Dotted Land. Nevertheless, It Affronted Her. This Was No Country For
People To Live In, And So Far As She Could See It Was Indeed Uninhabited.
Her Sensations Were Not, However, Limited To Sight. She Became Aware Of
Unfamiliar Disturbing Little Shocks Or Vibrations In Her Ear Drums, And
After That A Disagreeable Bleeding Of The Nose. The Porter Told Her This
Was Owing To The Altitude. Thus, One Thing And Another Kept Carley Most Of
The Time Away From The Window, So That She Really Saw Very Little Of The
Country. From What She Had Seen She Drew The Conviction That She Had Not
Missed Much. At Sunset She Deliberately Gazed Out To Discover What An
Arizona Sunset Was Like Just A Pale Yellow Flare! She Had Seen Better Than
That Above The Palisades. Not Until Reaching Winslow Did She Realize How
Near She Was To Her Journey's End And That She Would Arrive At Flagstaff
After Dark. She Grew Conscious Of Nervousness. Suppose Flagstaff Were Like
These Other Queer Little Towns!
Not Only Once, But Several Times Before The Train Slowed Down For Her
Chapter 1 Pg 12Destination Did Carley Wish She Had Sent Glenn Word To Meet Her. And When,
Presently, She Found Herself Standing Out In The Dark, Cold, Windy Night
Before A Dim-Lit Railroad Station She More Than Regretted Her Decision To
Surprise Glenn. But That Was Too Late And She Must Make The Best Of Her
Poor Judgment.
Men Were Passing To And Fro On The Platform, Some Of Whom Appeared To Be
Very Dark Of Skin And Eye, And Were Probably Mexicans. At Length An
Expressman Approached Carley, Soliciting Patronage. He Took Her Bags And,
Depositing Them In A Wagon, He Pointed Up The Wide Street: "One Block Up
An' Turn. Hotel Wetherford." Then He Drove Off. Carley Followed, Carrying
Her Small Satchel. A Cold Wind, Driving The Dust, Stung Her Face As She
Crossed The Street To A High Sidewalk That Extended Along The Block. There
Were Lights In The Stores And On The Corners, Yet She Seemed Impressed By A
Dark, Cold, Windy Bigness. Many People, Mostly Men, Were Passing Up And
Down, And There Were Motor Cars Everywhere. No One Paid Any Attention To
Her. Gaining The Corner Of The Block, She Turned, And Was Relieved To See
The Hotel Sign. As She Entered The Lobby A Clicking Of Pool Balls And The
Discordant Rasp Of A Phonograph Assailed Her Ears. The Expressman Set Down
Her Bags And Left Carley Standing There. The Clerk Or Proprietor Was
Talking From Behind His Desk To Several Men, And There Were Loungers In The
Lobby. The Air Was Thick With Tobacco Smoke. No One Paid Any Attention To
Carley Until At Length She Stepped Up To The Desk And Interrupted The
Conversation There.
"Is This A Hotel?" She Queried, Brusquely.
The Shirt-Sleeved Individual Leisurely Turned And Replied, "Yes, Ma'am."
And Carley Said: "No One Would Recognize It By The Courtesy Shown. I Have
Been Standing Here Waiting To Register."
With The Same Leisurely Case And A Cool, Laconic Stare The Clerk Turned The
Book Toward Her. "Reckon People Round Here Ask For What They Want."
Carley Made No Further Comment. She Assuredly Recognized That What She Had
Been Accustomed To Could Not Be Expected Out Here. What She Most Wished To
Do At The Moment Was To Get Close To The Big Open Grate Where A Cheery Red-
Chapter 1 Pg 13And-Gold Fire Cracked. It Was Necessary, However, To Follow The Clerk. He
Assigned Her To A Small Drab Room Which Contained A Bed, A Bureau, And A
Stationary Washstand With One Spigot. There Was Also A Chair. While Carley
Removed Her Coat And Hat The Clerk Went Downstairs For The Rest Of Her
Luggage. Upon His Return Carley Learned That A Stage Left The Hotel For Oak
Creek Canyon At Nine O'clock Next Morning. And This Cheered Her So Much
That She Faced The Strange Sense Of Loneliness And Discomfort With
Something Of Fortitude. There Was No Heat In The Room, And No Hot Water.
When Carley Squeezed The Spigot Handle There Burst Forth A Torrent Of Water
That Spouted Up Out Of The Washbasin To Deluge Her. It Was Colder Than Any
Ice Water She Had Ever Felt. It Was Piercingly Cold. Hard Upon The Surprise
And Shock Carley Suffered A Flash Of Temper. But Then The Humor Of It
Struck Her And She Had To Laugh.
"Serves You Right--You Spoiled Doll Of Luxury!" She Mocked. "This Is Out
West. Shiver And Wait On Yourself!"
Never Before Had She Undressed So Swiftly Nor Felt Grateful For Thick
Woollen Blankets On A Hard Bed. Gradually She Grew Warm. The Blackness,
Too, Seemed Rather Comforting.
"I'm Only Twenty Miles From Glenn," She Whispered. "How Strange! I Wonder
Will He Be Glad." She Felt A Sweet, Glowing Assurance Of That. Sleep Did
Not Come Readily. Excitement Had Laid Hold Of Her Nerves, And For A Long
Time She Lay Awake. After A While The Chug Of Motor Cars, The Click Of Pool
Balls, The Murmur Of Low Voices All Ceased. Then She Heard A Sound Of Wind
Outside, An Intermittent, Low Moaning, New To Her Ears, And Somehow
Pleasant. Another Sound Greeted Her--The Musical Clanging Of A Clock That
Struck The Quarters Of The Hour. Some Time Late Sleep Claimed Her.
Upon Awakening She Found She Had Overslept, Necessitating Haste Upon Her
Part. As To That, The Temperature Of The Room Did Not Admit Of Leisurely
Dressing. She Had No Adequate Name For The Feeling Of The Water. And Her
Fingers Grew So Numb That She Made What She Considered A Disgraceful Matter
Of Her Attire.
Downstairs In The Lobby Another Cheerful Red Fire Burned In The Grate. How
Perfectly Satisfying Was An Open Fireplace! She Thrust Her Numb Hands
Almost Into The Blaze, And Simply Shook With The Tingling Pain That Slowly
Warmed Out Of Them. The Lobby Was Deserted. A Sign Directed Her To A Dining
Room In The Basement, Where Of The Ham And Eggs And Strong Coffee She
Chapter 1 Pg 14
Comments (0)