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Page 50
"Oh!" was all the reply that Phil would vouchsafe.
"How queer people are!" thought little Clover to herself afterward.
"Neither of those boys quite liked our going on this expedition, I
think,--though I'm sure I can't imagine why; but they behaved so
differently. Mr. Templestowe thought of us and something which might give
us pleasure; and Clarence only thought about himself. Poor Clarence! he
never had half a chance till he came here. It isn't all his fault."
The party in the director's car proved a merry one. Mrs. Wade, a jolly,
motherly woman, fond of the good things of life, and delighting in making
people comfortable, had spared no pains of preparation. There were
quantities of easy-chairs and fans and eau-de-cologne; the larder was
stocked with all imaginable dainties,--iced tea, lemonade, and champagne
cup flowed on the least provocation for all the hot moments, and each
table was a bank of flowers. Each lady had a superb bouquet; and on the
second day a great tin box of freshly-cut roses met them at Pueblo, so
that they came back as gayly furnished forth as they went. Having the
privilege of the road, the car was attached or detached to suit their
convenience, and this enabled them to command daylight for all the finest
points of the excursion.
First of these was the Royal Gorge, where the Arkansas River pours through
a magnificent canyon, between precipices so steep and with curves so sharp
that only engineering genius of the most daring order could, it would
seem, have devised a way through. Then, after a pause at the pretty town
of Salida, with the magnificent range of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in
full sight, they began to mount the pass over long loops of rail, which
doubled and re-doubled on themselves again and again on their way to the
summit. The train had been divided; and the first half with its two
engines was seen at times puffing and snorting directly overhead of the
second half on the lower curve.
With each hundred feet of elevation, the view changed and widened. Now it
was of over-lapping hills set with little m�sas, like folds of green
velvet flung over the rocks; now of dim-seen valley depths with winding
links of silver rivers; and again of countless mountain peaks sharp-cut
against the sunset sky,--some rosy pink, some shining with snow.
The flowers were a continual marvel. At the top of the pass, eleven
thousand feet and more above the sea, their colors and their abundance
were more profuse and splendid than on the lower levels. There were whole
fields of pentstemons, pink, blue, royal purple, or the rare scarlet
variety, like stems of asparagus strung with rubies. There were masses of
gillias, and of wonderful coreopsis, enormous cream-colored stars with
deep-orange centres, and deep yellow ones with scarlet centres; thickets
of snowy-cupped mentzelia and of wild rose; while here and there a tall
red lily burned like a little lonely flame in the green, or regiments of
convolvuli waved their stately heads.
From below came now and again the tinkle of distant cow-bells. These, and
the plaintive coo of mourning-doves in the branches, and the rush of the
wind, which was like cool flower-scented wine, was all that broke the
stillness of the high places.
"To think I'm so much nearer heaven
Than when I was a boy,"
misquoted Clover, as she sat on the rear platform of the car, with Poppy,
and Thurber Wade.
"Are you sure your head doesn't ache? This elevation plays the mischief
with some people. My mother has taken to her berth with ice on her
temples."
"Headache! No, indeed. This air is too delicious. I feel as though I could
dance all the way from here to the Black Canyon."
"You don't look as if your head ached, or anything," said Mr. Wade,
staring at Clover admiringly. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, her
eyes full of light and exhilaration.
"Oh dear! we are beginning to go down," she cried, watching one of the
beautiful peaks of the Sangre de Cristos as it dipped out of sight. "I
think I could find it in my heart to cry, if it were not that to-morrow
we are coming up again."
So down, down, down they went. Dusk slowly gathered about them; and the
white-gloved butler set the little tables, and brought in broiled chicken
and grilled salmon and salad and hot rolls and peaches, and they were all
very hungry. And Clover did not cry, but fell to work on her supper with
an excellent appetite, quite unconscious that they were speeding through
another wonderful gorge without seeing one of its beauties. Then the car
was detached from the train; and when she awoke next morning they were at
the little station called Cimmaro, at the head of the famous Black Canyon,
with three hours to spare before the train from Utah should arrive to take
them back to St. Helen's.
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