The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey


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Page 21

"I like a big fire, too."

"Ever camped out?" he asked.

"Not what you'd call the real thing," replied Carley.

"Wal, thet's too bad. Reckon it'll be tough fer you," he went on, kindly.
"There was a gurl tenderfoot heah two years ago an' she had a hell of a
time. They all joked her, 'cept me, an' played tricks on her. An' on her
side she was always puttin' her foot in it. I was shore sorry fer her."

"You were very kind to be an exception," murmured Carley.

"You look out fer Tom Hutter, an' I reckon Flo ain't so darn above layin'
traps fer you. 'Specially as she's sweet on your beau. I seen them together
a lot."

"Yes?" interrogated Carley, encouragingly.

"Kilbourne is the best fellar thet ever happened along Oak Creek. I helped
him build his cabin. We've hunted some together. Did you ever hunt?"

"No."

"Wal, you've shore missed a lot of fun," he said. "Turkey huntin'. Thet's
what fetches the gurls. I reckon because turkeys are so good to eat. The
old gobblers hev begun to gobble now. I'll take you gobbler huntin' if
you'd like to go."

"I'm sure I would."

"There's good trout fishin' along heah a little later," he said, pointing
to the stream. "Crick's too high now. I like West Fork best. I've ketched
some lammin' big ones up there."

Carley was amused and interested. She could not say that Charley had shown
any indication of his mental peculiarity to her. It took considerable
restraint not to lead him to talk more about Flo and Glenn. Presently they
reached the turn in the road, opposite the cottage Carley had noticed
yesterday, and here her loquacious escort halted.

"You take the trail heah," he said, pointing it out, "an' foller it into
West Fork. So long, an' don't forget we're goin' huntin' turkeys."

Carley smiled her thanks, and, taking to the trail, she stepped out
briskly, now giving attention to her surroundings. The canyon had widened,
and the creek with its deep thicket of green and white had sheered to the
left. On her right the canyon wall appeared to be lifting higher--and
higher. She could not see it well, owing to intervening treetops. The trail
led her through a grove of maples and sycamores, out into an open park-like
bench that turned to the right toward the cliff. Suddenly Carley saw a
break in the red wall. It was the intersecting canyon, West Fork. What a
narrow red-walled gateway! Huge pine trees spread wide gnarled branches
over her head. The wind made soft rush in their tops, sending the brown
needles lightly on the air. Carley turned the bulging corner, to be halted
by a magnificent spectacle. It seemed a mountain wall loomed over her. It
was the western side of this canyon, so lofty that Carley had to tip back
her head to see the top. She swept her astonished gaze down the face of
this tremendous red mountain wall and then slowly swept it upward again.
This phenomenon of a cliff seemed beyond the comprehension of her sight. It
looked a mile high. The few trees along its bold rampart resembled short
spear-pointed bushes outlined against the steel gray of sky. Ledges, caves,
seams, cracks, fissures, beetling red brows, yellow crumbling crags,
benches of green growths and niches choked with brush, and bold points
where single lonely pine trees grew perilously, and blank walls a thousand
feet across their shadowed faces--these features gradually took shape in
Carley's confused sight, until the colossal mountain front stood up before
her in all its strange, wild, magnificent ruggedness and beauty.

"Arizona! Perhaps this is what he meant," murmured Carley. "I never dreamed
of anything like this. . . . But, oh! it overshadows me--bears me down! I
could never have a moment's peace under it."

It fascinated her. There were inaccessible ledges that haunted her with
their remote fastnesses. How wonderful would it be to get there, rest
there, if that were possible! But only eagles could reach them. There were
places, then, that the desecrating hands of man could not touch. The dark
caves were mystically potent in their vacant staring out at the world
beneath them. The crumbling crags, the toppling ledges, the leaning rocks
all threatened to come thundering down at the breath of wind. How deep and
soft the red color in contrast with the green! How splendid the sheer bold
uplift of gigantic steps! Carley found herself marveling at the forces
that had so rudely, violently, and grandly left this monument to nature.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 11th Jan 2025, 10:41