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Page 40
"Is it much of a walk?" asked Mrs. Watson.
"It is rather long and rather steep," said Mrs. Hope; "but it is lovely if
you only go a little way in, and you and I will sit down the moment you
feel tired, and let the others go forward."
South Cheyenne Canyon was indeed "entirely different." Instead of a
green-floored, vine-hung ravine, it is a wild mountain gorge, walled with
precipitous cliffs of great height; and its river--every canyon has a
river--comes from a source at the top of the gorge in a series of mad
leaps, forming seven waterfalls, which plunge into circular basins of
rock, worn smooth by the action of the stream. These pools are curiously
various in shape, and the color of the water, as it pauses a moment to
rest in each before taking its next plunge, is beautiful. Little plank
walks are laid along the river-side, and rude staircases for the steepest
pitches. Up these the party went, leaving Mrs. Watson and Mrs. Hope far
behind,--Poppy with her habit over her arm, Clover stopping every other
moment to pick some new flower, Phil shying stones into the rapids as he
passed,--till the top of the topmost cascade was reached, and looking back
they could see the whole wonderful way by which they had climbed, and down
which the river made its turbulent rush. Clover gathered a great mat of
green scarlet-berried vine like glorified cranberry, which Dr. Hope told
her was the famous kinnikinnick, and was just remarking on the cool
water-sounds which filled the place, when all of a sudden these sounds
seemed to grow angry, the defile of precipices turned a frowning blue, and
looking up they saw a great thunder-cloud gathering overhead.
"We must run," cried Dr. Hope, and down they flew, racing at full speed
along the long flights of steps and the plank walks, which echoed to the
sound of their flying feet. Far below they could see two fast-moving
specks which they guessed to be Mrs. Hope and Mrs. Watson, hurrying to a
place of shelter. Nearer and nearer came the storm, louder the growl of
the thunder, and great hail-stones pattered on their heads before they
gained the cabin; none too soon, for in another moment the cloud broke,
and the air was full of a dizzy whirl of sleet and rain.
Others besides themselves had been surprised in the ravine, and every few
minutes another and another wet figure would come flying down the path, so
that the little refuge was soon full. The storm lasted half an hour, then
it scattered as rapidly as it had come, the sun broke out brilliantly, and
the drive home would have been delightful if it had not been for the sad
fact that Mrs. Watson had left her parasol in the carriage, and it had
been wet, and somewhat stained by the india-rubber blanket which had been
thrown over it for protection. Her lamentations were pathetic.
"Jane Phillips gave it to me,--she was a Sampson, you know,--and I
thought ever so much of it. It was at Hovey's--We were there together, and
I admired it; and she said, 'Mrs. Watson, you must let me--' Six dollars
was the price of it. That's a good deal for a parasol, you know, unless
it's really a nice one; but Hovey's things are always--I had the handle
shortened a little just before I came away, too, so that it would go into
my trunk; it had to be mended anyhow, so that it seemed a good--Dear,
dear! and now it's spoiled! What a pity I left it in the carriage! I shall
know better another time, but this climate is so different. It never rains
in this way at home. It takes a little while about it, and gives notice;
and we say that there's going to be a northeaster, or that it looks like a
thunder-storm, and we put on our second-best clothes or we stay at home.
It's a great deal nicer, I think."
"I am so sorry," said kind little Mrs. Hope. "Our storms out here do come
up very suddenly. I wish I had noticed that you had left your parasol.
Well, Clover, you've had a chance now to see the doctor's beautiful
Colorado hail and thunder to perfection. How do you like them?"
"I like everything in Colorado, I believe," replied Clover, laughing. "I
won't even except the hail."
"She's the girl for this part of the world," cried Dr. Hope, approvingly.
"She'd make a first-rate pioneer. We'll keep her out here, Mary, and never
let her go home. She was born to live at the West."
"Was I? It seems queer then that I should have been born to live in
Burnet."
"Oh, we'll change all that."
"I'm sure I don't see how."
"There are ways and means," oracularly.
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