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Page 7
Later, in the dining car, the steward smilingly answered her question:
"This is Kansas, and those green fields out there are the wheat that feeds
the nation."
Carley was not impressed. The color of the short wheat appeared soft and
rich, and the boundless fields stretched away monotonously. She had not
known there was so much flat land in the world, and she imagined it might
be a fine country for automobile roads. When she got back to her seat she
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
to 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!
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