The Call of the Canyon Read online

  CHAPTER V

  Later Carley leaned back in a comfortable seat, before a blazing firethat happily sent its acrid smoke up the chimney, pondering ideas in hermind.

  There could be a relation to familiar things that was astounding in itsrevelation. To get off a horse that had tortured her, to discover analmost insatiable appetite, to rest weary, aching body before the genialwarmth of a beautiful fire--these were experiences which Carley foundto have been hitherto unknown delights. It struck her suddenly andstrangely that to know the real truth about anything in life mightrequire infinite experience and understanding. How could one feelimmense gratitude and relief, or the delight of satisfying acute hunger,or the sweet comfort of rest, unless there had been circumstances ofextreme contrast? She had been compelled to suffer cruelly on horsebackin order to make her appreciate how good it was to get down on theground. Otherwise she never would have known. She wondered, then, howtrue that principle might be in all experience. It gave strong food forthought. There were things in the world never before dreamed of in herphilosophy.

  Carley was wondering if she were narrow and dense to circumstances oflife differing from her own when a remark of Flo's gave pause to herreflections.

  "Shore the worst is yet to come." Flo had drawled.

  Carley wondered if this distressing statement had to do in some way withthe rest of the trip. She stifled her curiosity. Painful knowledge ofthat sort would come quickly enough.

  "Flo, are you girls going to sleep here in the cabin?" inquired Glenn.

  "Shore. It's cold and wet outside," replied Flo.

  "Well, Felix, the Mexican herder, told me some Navajos had been bunkinghere."

  "Navajos? You mean Indians?" interposed Carley, with interest.

  "Shore do," said Flo. "I knew that. But don't mind Glenn. He's full oftricks, Carley. He'd give us a hunch to lie out in the wet."

  Hutter burst into his hearty laugh. "Wal, I'd rather get some thingsany day than a bad cold."

  "Shore I've had both," replied Flo, in her easy drawl, "and I'd preferthe cold. But for Carley's sake--"

  "Pray don't consider me," said Carley. The rather crude drift of theconversation affronted her.

  "Well, my dear," put in Glenn, "it's a bad night outside. We'll all makeour beds here."

  "Glenn, you shore are a nervy fellow," drawled Flo.

  Long after everybody was in bed Carley lay awake in the blackness of thecabin, sensitively fidgeting and quivering over imaginative contact withcreeping things. The fire had died out. A cold air passed through theroom. On the roof pattered gusts of rain. Carley heard a rustling ofmice. It did not seem possible that she could keep awake, yet she stroveto do so. But her pangs of body, her extreme fatigue soon yielded tothe quiet and rest of her bed, engendering a drowsiness that provedirresistible.

  Morning brought fair weather and sunshine, which helped to sustainCarley in her effort to brave out her pains and woes. Anotherdisagreeable day would have forced her to humiliating defeat.Fortunately for her, the business of the men was concerned with theimmediate neighborhood, in which they expected to stay all morning.

  "Flo, after a while persuade Carley to ride with you to the top of thisfirst foothill," said Glenn. "It's not far, and it's worth a good dealto see the Painted Desert from there. The day is clear and the air freefrom dust."

  "Shore. Leave it to me. I want to get out of camp, anyhow. Thatconceited hombre, Lee Stanton, will be riding in here," answered Flo,laconically.

  The slight knowing smile on Glenn's face and the grinning disbeliefon Mr. Hutter's were facts not lost upon Carley. And when Charley, theherder, deliberately winked at Carley, she conceived the idea that Flo,like many women, only ran off to be pursued. In some manner Carley didnot seek to analyze, the purported advent of this Lee Stanton pleasedher. But she did admit to her consciousness that women, herselfincluded, were both as deep and mysterious as the sea, yet astransparent as an inch of crystal water.

  It happened that the expected newcomer rode into camp before anyoneleft. Before he dismounted he made a good impression on Carley, andas he stepped down in lazy, graceful action, a tall lithe figure, shethought him singularly handsome. He wore black sombrero, flannel shirt,blue jeans stuffed into high boots, and long, big-roweled spurs.

  "How are you-all?" was his greeting.

  From the talk that ensued between him and the men, Carley concludedthat he must be overseer of the sheep hands. Carley knew that Hutterand Glenn were not interested in cattle raising. And in fact they were,especially Hutter, somewhat inimical to the dominance of the range landby cattle barons of Flagstaff.

  "When's Ryan goin' to dip?" asked Hutter.

  "Today or tomorrow," replied Stanton.

  "Reckon we ought to ride over," went on Hutter. "Say, Glenn, do youreckon Miss Carley could stand a sheep-dip?"

  This was spoken in a low tone, scarcely intended for Carley, but she hadkeen ears and heard distinctly. Not improbably this sheep-dip was whatFlo meant as the worst to come. Carley adopted a listless posture tohide her keen desire to hear what Glenn would reply to Hutter.

  "I should say not!" whispered Glenn, fiercely.

  "Cut out that talk. She'll hear you and want to go."

  Whereupon Carley felt mount in her breast an intense and rebelliousdetermination to see a sheep-dip. She would astonish Glenn. What didhe want, anyway? Had she not withstood the torturing trot of thehardest-gaited horse on the range? Carley realized she was going toplace considerable store upon that feat. It grew on her.

  When the consultation of the men ended, Lee Stanton turned to Flo. AndCarley did not need to see the young man look twice to divine what ailedhim. He was caught in the toils of love. But seeing through Flo Hutterwas entirely another matter.

  "Howdy, Lee!" she said, coolly, with her clear eyes on him. A tiny frownknitted her brow. She did not, at the moment, entirely approve of him.

  "Shore am glad to see you, Flo," he said, with rather a heavy expulsionof breath. He wore a cheerful grin that in no wise deceived Flo, orCarley either. The young man had a furtive expression of eye.

  "Ahuh!" returned Flo.

  "I was shore sorry about--about that--" he floundered, in low voice.

  "About what?"

  "Aw, you know, Flo."

  Carley strolled out of hearing, sure of two things--that she felt rathersorry for Stanton, and that his course of love did not augur well forsmooth running. What queer creatures were women! Carley had seen severalmillion coquettes, she believed; and assuredly Flo Hutter belonged tothe species.

  Upon Carley's return to the cabin she found Stanton and Flo waiting forher to accompany them on a ride up the foothill. She was so stiff andsore that she could hardly mount into the saddle; and the first mileof riding was something like a nightmare. She lagged behind Flo andStanton, who apparently forgot her in their quarrel.

  The riders soon struck the base of a long incline of rocky ground thatled up to the slope of the foothill. Here rocks and gravel gave placeto black cinders out of which grew a scant bleached grass. This desertverdure was what lent the soft gray shade to the foothill when seen froma distance. The slope was gentle, so that the ascent did not entail anyhardship. Carley was amazed at the length of the slope, and also tosee how high over the desert she was getting. She felt lifted out of amonotonous level. A green-gray league-long cedar forest extended downtoward Oak Creek. Behind her the magnificent bulk of the mountainsreached up into the stormy clouds, showing white slopes of snow underthe gray pall.

  The hoofs of the horses sank in the cinders. A fine choking dustassailed Carley's nostrils. Presently, when there appeared at least athird of the ascent still to be accomplished and Flo dismounted to walk,leading their horses. Carley had no choice but to do likewise. At firstwalking was a relief. Soon, however, the soft yielding cinders began todrag at her feet. At every step she slipped back a few inches, a veryannoying feature of climbing. When her legs seemed to grow dead Carleypaused for a little rest. The last of the ascent, over a
few hundredyards of looser cinders, taxed her remaining strength to the limit. Shegrew hot and wet and out of breath. Her heart labored. An unreasonableantipathy seemed to attend her efforts. Only her ridiculous vanity heldher to this task. She wanted to please Glenn, but not so earnestly thatshe would have kept on plodding up this ghastly bare mound of cinders.Carley did not mind being a tenderfoot, but she hated the thought ofthese Westerners considering her a weakling. So she bore the pain ofraw blisters and the miserable sensation of staggering on under a leadenweight.

  Several times she noted that Flo and Stanton halted to face each otherin rather heated argument. At least Stanton's red face and forcefulgestures attested to heat on his part. Flo evidently was weary ofargument, and in answer to a sharp reproach she retorted, "Shore Iwas different after he came." To which Stanton responded by a quickpassionate shrinking as if he had been stung.

  Carley had her own reaction to this speech she could not help hearing;and inwardly, at least, her feeling must have been similar to Stanton's.She forgot the object of this climb and looked off to her right at thegreen level without really seeing it. A vague sadness weighed upon hersoul. Was there to be a tangle of fates here, a conflict of wills, acrossing of loves? Flo's terse confession could not be taken lightly.Did she mean that she loved Glenn? Carley began to fear it. Only anotherreason why she must persuade Glenn to go back East! But the closerCarley came to what she divined must be an ordeal the more she dreadedit. This raw, crude West might have confronted her with a situationbeyond her control. And as she dragged her weighted feet through thecinders, kicking, up little puffs of black dust, she felt what sheadmitted to be an unreasonable resentment toward these Westerners andtheir barren, isolated, and boundless world.

  "Carley," called Flo, "come--looksee, as the Indians say. Here isGlenn's Painted Desert, and I reckon it's shore worth seeing."

  To Carley's surprise, she found herself upon the knob of the foothill.And when she looked out across a suddenly distinguishable void sheseemed struck by the immensity of something she was unable to grasp. Shedropped her bridle; she gazed slowly, as if drawn, hearing Flo's voice.

  "That thin green line of cottonwoods down there is the Little ColoradoRiver," Flo was saying. "Reckon it's sixty miles, all down hill. ThePainted Desert begins there and also the Navajo Reservation. You see thewhite strips, the red veins, the yellow bars, the black lines. They areall desert steps leading up and up for miles. That sharp black peakis called Wildcat. It's about a hundred miles. You see the desertstretching away to the right, growing dim--lost in distance? We don'tknow that country. But that north country we know as landmarks, anyway.Look at that saw-tooth range. The Indians call it Echo Cliffs. Atthe far end it drops off into the Colorado River. Lee's Ferry isthere--about one hundred and sixty miles. That ragged black rent is theGrand Canyon. Looks like a thread, doesn't it? But Carley, it's somehole, believe me. Away to the left you see the tremendous wall risingand turning to come this way. That's the north wall of the Canyon. Itends at the great bluff--Greenland Point. See the black fringe above thebar of gold. That's a belt of pine trees. It's about eighty miles acrossthis ragged old stone washboard of a desert. ... Now turn and lookstraight and strain your sight over Wildcat. See the rim purple dome.You must look hard. I'm glad it's clear and the sun is shining. We don'toften get this view.... That purple dome is Navajo Mountain, two hundredmiles and more away!"

  Carley yielded to some strange drawing power and slowly walked forwarduntil she stood at the extreme edge of the summit.

  What was it that confounded her sight? Desert slope--down anddown--color--distance--space! The wind that blew in her face seemedto have the openness of the whole world back of it. Cold, sweet,dry, exhilarating, it breathed of untainted vastness. Carley's memorypictures of the Adirondacks faded into pastorals; her vaunted imagesof European scenery changed to operetta settings. She had nothing withwhich to compare this illimitable space.

  "Oh!--America!" was her unconscious tribute.

  Stanton and Flo had come on to places beside her. The young man laughed."Wal, now Miss Carley, you couldn't say more. When I was in camptrainin' for service overseas I used to remember how this looked. An' itseemed one of the things I was goin' to fight for. Reckon I didn't theidea of the Germans havin' my Painted Desert. I didn't get across tofight for it, but I shore was willin'."

  "You see, Carley, this is our America," said Flo, softly.

  Carley had never understood the meaning of the word. The immensity ofthe West seemed flung at her. What her vision beheld, so far-reachingand boundless, was only a dot on the map.

  "Does any one live--out there?" she asked, with slow sweep of hand.

  "A few white traders and some Indian tribes," replied Stanton. "But youcan ride all day an' next day an' never see a livin' soul."

  What was the meaning of the gratification in his voice? Did Westernerscourt loneliness? Carley wrenched her gaze from the desert void to lookat her companions. Stanton's eyes were narrowed; his expression hadchanged; lean and hard and still, his face resembled bronze. Thecareless humor was gone, as was the heated flush of his quarrel withFlo. The girl, too, had subtly changed, had responded to an influencethat had subdued and softened her. She was mute; her eyes held a light,comprehensive and all-embracing; she was beautiful then. For Carley,quick to read emotion, caught a glimpse of a strong, steadfast soul thatspiritualized the brown freckled face.

  Carley wheeled to gaze out and down into this incomprehensible abyss,and on to the far up-flung heights, white and red and yellow, and soon to the wonderful mystic haze of distance. The significance of Flo'sdesignation of miles could not be grasped by Carley. She could notestimate distance. But she did not need that to realize her perceptionswere swallowed up by magnitude. Hitherto the power of her eyes had beenunknown. How splendid to see afar! She could see--yes--but what did shesee? Space first, annihilating space, dwarfing her preconceived images,and then wondrous colors! What had she known of color? No wonder artistsfailed adequately and truly to paint mountains, let alone the desertspace. The toiling millions of the crowded cities were ignorant of thisterrible beauty and sublimity. Would it have helped them to see? Butjust to breathe that untainted air, just to see once the boundless openof colored sand and rock--to realize what the freedom of eagles meantwould not that have helped anyone?

  And with the thought there came to Carley's quickened and strugglingmind a conception of freedom. She had not yet watched eagles, but shenow gazed out into their domain. What then must be the effect of suchenvironment on people whom it encompassed? The idea stunned Carley.Would such people grow in proportion to the nature with which theywere in conflict? Hereditary influence could not be comparable to suchenvironment in the shaping of character.

  "Shore I could stand here all day," said Flo. "But it's beginning tocloud over and this high wind is cold. So we'd better go, Carley."

  "I don't know what I am, but it's not cold," replied Carley.

  "Wal, Miss Carley, I reckon you'll have to come again an' again beforeyou get a comfortable feelin' here," said Stanton.

  It surprised Carley to see that this young Westerner had hit uponthe truth. He understood her. Indeed she was uncomfortable. She wasoppressed, vaguely unhappy. But why? The thing there--the infinitude ofopen sand and rock--was beautiful, wonderful, even glorious. She lookedagain.

  Steep black-cindered slope, with its soft gray patches of grass, sheereddown and down, and out in rolling slope to merge upon a cedar-dottedlevel. Nothing moved below, but a red-tailed hawk sailed across hervision. How still--how gray the desert floor as it reached away, losingits black dots, and gaining bronze spots of stone! By plain and prairieit fell away, each inch of gray in her sight magnifying into itsleague-long roll. On and on, and down across dark lines that weresteppes, and at last blocked and changed by the meandering green threadwhich was the verdure of a desert river. Beyond stretched the whitesand, where whirlwinds of dust sent aloft their funnel-shaped spouts;and it led up to the horizon-wide ribs and ridges of r
ed and walls ofyellow and mountains of black, to the dim mound of purple so etherealand mystic against the deep-blue cloud-curtained band of sky.

  And on the moment the sun was obscured and that world of colorful flamewent out, as if a blaze had died.

  Deprived of its fire, the desert seemed to retreat, to fade coldly andgloomily, to lose its great landmarks in dim obscurity. Closer, aroundto the north, the canyon country yawned with innumerable gray jaws,ragged and hard, and the riven earth took on a different character. Ithad no shadows. It grew flat and, like the sea, seemed to mirrorthe vast gray cloud expanse. The sublime vanished, but the desolateremained. No warmth--no movement--no life! Dead stone it was, cut into amillion ruts by ruthless ages. Carley felt that she was gazing down intochaos.

  At this moment, as before, a hawk had crossed her vision, so now a ravensailed by, black as coal, uttering a hoarse croak.

  "Quoth the raven--" murmured Carley, with a half-bitter laugh, as sheturned away shuddering in spite of an effort of self-control. "Maybe hemeant this wonderful and terrible West is never for such as I.... Come,let us go."

  Carley rode all that afternoon in the rear of the caravan, graduallysuccumbing to the cold raw wind and the aches and pains to which she hadsubjected her flesh. Nevertheless, she finished the day's journey, and,sorely as she needed Glenn's kindly hand, she got off her horse withoutaid.

  Camp was made at the edge of the devastated timber zone that Carleyhad found so dispiriting. A few melancholy pines were standing, andeverywhere, as far as she could see southward, were blackened fallentrees and stumps. It was a dreary scene. The few cattle grazing onthe bleached grass appeared as melancholy as the pines. The sun shonefitfully at sunset, and then sank, leaving the land to twilight andshadows.

  Once in a comfortable seat beside the camp fire, Carley had no furtherdesire to move. She was so far exhausted and weary that she could nolonger appreciate the blessing of rest. Appetite, too, failed her thismeal time. Darkness soon settled down. The wind moaned through thepines. She was indeed glad to crawl into bed, and not even the thoughtof skunks could keep her awake.

  Morning disclosed the fact that gray clouds had been blown away. Thesun shone bright upon a white-frosted land. The air was still. Carleylabored at her task of rising, and brushing her hair, and pulling onher boots; and it appeared her former sufferings were as naught comparedwith the pangs of this morning. How she hated the cold, the bleak,denuded forest land, the emptiness, the roughness, the crudeness! Ifthis sort of feeling grew any worse she thought she would hate Glenn.Yet she was nonetheless set upon going on, and seeing the sheep-dip, andriding that fiendish mustang until the trip was ended.

  Getting in the saddle and on the way this morning was an ordeal thatmade Carley actually sick. Glenn and Flo both saw how it was withher, and they left her to herself. Carley was grateful for thisunderstanding. It seemed to proclaim their respect. She found furthermatter for satisfaction in the astonishing circumstance that afterthe first dreadful quarter of an hour in the saddle she began to feeleasier. And at the end of several hours of riding she was not sufferingany particular pain, though she was weaker.

  At length the cut-over land ended in a forest of straggling pines,through which the road wound southward, and eventually down into a wideshallow canyon. Through the trees Carley saw a stream of water, openfields of green, log fences and cabins, and blue smoke. She heard thechug of a gasoline engine and the baa-baa of sheep. Glenn waited forher to catch up with him, and he said: "Carley, this is one of Hutter'ssheep camps. It's not a--a very pleasant place. You won't care to seethe sheep-dip. So I'm suggesting you wait here--"

  "Nothing doing, Glenn," she interrupted. "I'm going to see what there isto see."

  "But, dear--the men--the way they handle sheep--they'll--really it's nosight for you," he floundered.

  "Why not?" she inquired, eying him.

  "Because, Carley--you know how you hate the--the seamy side of things.And the stench--why, it'll make you sick!"

  "Glenn, be on the level," she said. "Suppose it does. Wouldn't you thinkmore of me if I could stand it?"

  "Why, yes," he replied, reluctantly, smiling at her, "I would. But Iwanted to spare you. This trip has been hard. I'm sure proud of you.And, Carley--you can overdo it. Spunk is not everything. You simplycouldn't stand this."

  "Glenn, how little you know a woman!" she exclaimed. "Come along andshow me your old sheep-dip."

  They rode out of the woods into an open valley that might have beenpicturesque if it had not been despoiled by the work of man. A log fenceran along the edge of open ground and a mud dam held back a pool ofstagnant water, slimy and green. As Carley rode on the baa-baa of sheepbecame so loud that she could scarcely hear Glenn talking.

  Several log cabins, rough hewn and gray with age, stood down inside theinclosure; and beyond there were large corrals. From the other side ofthese corrals came sounds of rough voices of men, a trampling of hoofs,heavy splashes, the beat of an engine, and the incessant baaing of thesheep.

  At this point the members of Hutter's party dismounted and tied theirhorses to the top log of the fence. When Carley essayed to get off Glenntried to stop her, saying she could see well enough from there. ButCarley got down and followed Flo. She heard Hutter call to Glenn: "Say,Ryan is short of men. We'll lend a hand for a couple of hours."

  Presently Carley reached Flo's side and the first corral that containedsheep. They formed a compact woolly mass, rather white in color, with atinge of pink. When Flo climbed up on the fence the flock plunged asone animal and with a trampling roar ran to the far side of the corral.Several old rams with wide curling horns faced around; and some ofthe ewes climbed up on the densely packed mass. Carley rather enjoyedwatching them. She surely could not see anything amiss in this sight.

  The next corral held a like number of sheep, and also several Mexicanswho were evidently driving them into a narrow lane that led fartherdown. Carley saw the heads of men above other corral fences, and therewas also a thick yellowish smoke rising from somewhere.

  "Carley, are you game to see the dip?" asked Flo, with good nature thatyet had a touch of taunt in it.

  "That's my middle name," retorted Carley, flippantly.

  Both Glenn and this girl seemed to be bent upon bringing out Carley'sworst side, and they were succeeding. Flo laughed. The ready slangpleased her.

  She led Carley along that log fence, through a huge open gate, andacross a wide pen to another fence, which she scaled. Carley followedher, not particularly overanxious to look ahead. Some thick odor hadbegun to reach Carley's delicate nostrils. Flo led down a short lane andclimbed another fence, and sat astride the top log. Carley hurried alongto clamber up to her side, but stood erect with her feet on the secondlog of the fence.

  Then a horrible stench struck Carley almost like a blow in the face, andbefore her confused sight there appeared to be drifting smoke and activemen and running sheep, all against a background of mud. But at first itwas the odor that caused Carley to close her eyes and press her kneeshard against the upper log to keep from reeling. Never in her life hadsuch a sickening nausea assailed her. It appeared to attack her wholebody. The forerunning qualm of seasickness was as nothing to this.Carley gave a gasp, pinched her nose between her fingers so she couldnot smell, and opened her eyes.

  Directly beneath her was a small pen open at one end into which sheepwere being driven from the larger corral. The drivers were yelling. Thesheep in the rear plunged into those ahead of them, forcing them on. Twomen worked in this small pen. One was a brawny giant in undershirt andoveralls that appeared filthy. He held a cloth in his hand and strodetoward the nearest sheep. Folding the cloth round the neck of the sheep,he dragged it forward, with an ease which showed great strength, andthrew it into a pit that yawned at the side. Souse went the sheep intoa murky, muddy pool and disappeared. But suddenly its head came up andthen its shoulders. And it began half to walk and half swim down whatappeared to be a narrow boxlike ditch that contained other flounderingsheep.
Then Carley saw men on each side of this ditch bending over withpoles that had crooks at the end, and their work was to press and pullthe sheep along to the end of the ditch, and drive them up a boardedincline into another corral where many other sheep huddled, now a dirtymuddy color like the liquid into which they had been emersed. Souse!Splash! In went sheep after sheep. Occasionally one did not go under.And then a man would press it under with the crook and quickly lift itshead. The work went on with precision and speed, in spite of the yellsand trampling and baa-baas, and the incessant action that gave an effectof confusion.

  Carley saw a pipe leading from a huge boiler to the ditch. The darkfluid was running out of it. From a rusty old engine with big smokestackpoured the strangling smoke. A man broke open a sack of yellow powderand dumped it into the ditch. Then he poured an acid-like liquid afterit.

  "Sulphur and nicotine," yelled Flo up at Carley. "The dip's poison. Ifa sheep opens his mouth he's usually a goner. But sometimes they saveone."

  Carley wanted to tear herself away from this disgusting spectacle. Butit held her by some fascination. She saw Glenn and Hutter fall in linewith the other men, and work like beavers. These two pacemakers in thesmall pen kept the sheep coming so fast that every worker below had atask cut out for him. Suddenly Flo squealed and pointed.

  "There! that sheep didn't come up," she cried. "Shore he opened hismouth."

  Then Carley saw Glenn energetically plunge his hooked pole in and outand around until he had located the submerged sheep. He lifted itshead above the dip. The sheep showed no sign of life. Down on his kneesdropped Glenn, to reach the sheep with strong brown hands, and to haulit up on the ground, where it flopped inert. Glenn pummeled it andpressed it, and worked on it much as Carley had seen a life-guard workover a half-drowned man. But the sheep did not respond to Glenn's activeadministrations.

  "No use, Glenn," yelled Hutter, hoarsely. "That one's a goner."

  Carley did not fail to note the state of Glenn's hands and arms andoveralls when he returned to the ditch work. Then back and forthCarley's gaze went from one end to the other of that scene. And suddenlyit was arrested and held by the huge fellow who handled the sheep sobrutally. Every time he dragged one and threw it into the pit he yelled:"Ho! Ho!" Carley was impelled to look at his face, and she was amazed tomeet the rawest and boldest stare from evil eyes that had ever been hermisfortune to incite. She felt herself stiffen with a shock that wasunfamiliar. This man was scarcely many years older than Glenn, yet hehad grizzled hair, a seamed and scarred visage, coarse, thick lips, andbeetling brows, from under which peered gleaming light eyes. At everyturn he flashed them upon Carley's face, her neck, the swell of herbosom. It was instinct that caused her hastily to close her riding coat.She felt as if her flesh had been burned. Like a snake he fascinatedher. The intelligence in his bold gaze made the beastliness of it allthe harder to endure, all the stronger to arouse.

  "Come, Carley, let's rustle out of this stinkin' mess," cried Flo.

  Indeed, Carley needed Flo's assistance in clambering down out of thechoking smoke and horrid odor.

  "Adios, pretty eyes," called the big man from the pen.

  "Well," ejaculated Flo, when they got out, "I'll bet I call Glenn goodand hard for letting you go down there."

  "It was--my--fault," panted Carley. "I said I'd stand it."

  "Oh, you're game, all right. I didn't mean the dip.... Thatsheep-slinger is Haze Ruff, the toughest hombre on this range. Shore,now, wouldn't I like to take a shot at him?... I'm going to tell dad andGlenn."

  "Please don't," returned Carley, appealingly.

  "I shore am. Dad needs hands these days. That's why he's lenient. ButGlenn will cowhide Ruff and I want to see him do it."

  In Flo Hutter then Carley saw another and a different spirit of theWest, a violence unrestrained and fierce that showed in the girl's evenvoice and in the piercing light of her eyes.

  They went back to the horses, got their lunches from the saddlebags,and, finding comfortable seats in a sunny, protected place, they ateand talked. Carley had to force herself to swallow. It seemed that thehorrid odor of dip and sheep had permeated everything. Glenn had knownher better than she had known herself, and he had wished to spare her anunnecessary and disgusting experience. Yet so stubborn was Carley thatshe did not regret going through with it.

  "Carley, I don't mind telling you that you've stuck it out better thanany tenderfoot we ever had here," said Flo.

  "Thank you. That from a Western girl is a compliment I'll not soonforget," replied Carley.

  "I shore mean it. We've had rotten weather. And to end the little tripat this sheep-dip hole! Why, Glenn certainly wanted you to stack upagainst the real thing!"

  "Flo, he did not want me to come on the trip, and especially here,"protested Carley.

  "Shore I know. But he let you."

  "Neither Glenn nor any other man could prevent me from doing what Iwanted to do."

  "Well, if you'll excuse me," drawled Flo, "I'll differ with you. Ireckon Glenn Kilbourne is not the man you knew before the war."

  "No, he is not. But that does not alter the case."

  "Carley, we're not well acquainted," went on Flo, more carefully feelingher way, "and I'm not your kind. I don't know your Eastern ways. But Iknow what the West does to a man. The war ruined your friend--both hisbody and mind.... How sorry mother and I were for Glenn, those dayswhen it looked he'd sure 'go west,' for good!... Did you know he'd beengassed and that he had five hemorrhages?"

  "Oh! I knew his lungs had been weakened by gas. But he never told meabout having hemorrhages."

  "Well, he shore had them. The last one I'll never forget. Every timehe'd cough it would fetch the blood. I could tell!... Oh, it was awful.I begged him not to cough. He smiled--like a ghost smiling--and hewhispered, 'I'll quit.'... And he did. The doctor came from Flagstaffand packed him in ice. Glenn sat propped up all night and never moved amuscle. Never coughed again! And the bleeding stopped. After that weput him out on the porch where he could breathe fresh air all the time.There's something wonderfully healing in Arizona air. It's from the drydesert and here it's full of cedar and pine. Anyway Glenn got well. AndI think the West has cured his mind, too."

  "Of what?" queried Carley, in an intense curiosity she could scarcelyhide.

  "Oh, God only knows!" exclaimed Flo, throwing up her gloved hands. "Inever could understand. But I hated what the war did to him."

  Carley leaned back against the log, quite spent. Flo was unwittinglytorturing her. Carley wanted passionately to give in to jealousy of thisWestern girl, but she could not do it. Flo Hutter deserved better thanthat. And Carley's baser nature seemed in conflict with all that wasnoble in her. The victory did not yet go to either side. This was a badhour for Carley. Her strength had about played out, and her spirit wasat low ebb.

  "Carley, you're all in," declared Flo. "You needn't deny it. I'm shoreyou've made good with me as a tenderfoot who stayed the limit. Butthere's no sense in your killing yourself, nor in me letting you. So I'mgoing to tell dad we want to go home."

  She left Carley there. The word home had struck strangely into Carley'smind and remained there. Suddenly she realized what it was to behomesick. The comfort, the ease, the luxury, the rest, the sweetness,the pleasure, the cleanliness, the gratification to eye and ear--to allthe senses--how these thoughts came to haunt her! All of Carley's willpower had been needed to sustain her on this trip to keep her frommiserably failing. She had not failed. But contact with the West hadaffronted, disgusted, shocked, and alienated her. In that moment shecould not be fair minded; she knew it; she did not care.

  Carley gazed around her. Only one of the cabins was in sight from thisposition. Evidently it was a home for some of these men. On one side thepeaked rough roof had been built out beyond the wall, evidently to serveas a kind of porch. On that wall hung the motliest assortment of thingsCarley had ever seen--utensils, sheep and cow hides, saddles, harness,leather clothes, ropes, old sombreros, shovels, stove pipe, and man
yother articles for which she could find no name. The most strikingcharacteristic manifest in this collection was that of service. Howthey had been used! They had enabled people to live under primitiveconditions. Somehow this fact inhibited Carley's sense of repulsion attheir rude and uncouth appearance. Had any of her forefathers ever beenpioneers? Carley did not know, but the thought was disturbing. It wasthought-provoking. Many times at home, when she was dressing for dinner,she had gazed into the mirror at the graceful lines of her throat andarms, at the proud poise of her head, at the alabaster whiteness of herskin, and wonderingly she had asked of her image: "Can it be possiblethat I am a descendant of cavemen?" She had never been able to realizeit, yet she knew it was true. Perhaps somewhere not far back along herline there had been a great-great-grandmother who had lived some kind ofa primitive life, using such implements and necessaries as hung on thiscabin wall, and thereby helped some man to conquer the wilderness, tolive in it, and reproduce his kind. Like flashes Glenn's words came backto Carley--"Work and children!"

  Some interpretation of his meaning and how it related to this hour heldaloof from Carley. If she would ever be big enough to understand it andbroad enough to accept it the time was far distant. Just now she wassore and sick physically, and therefore certainly not in a receptivestate of mind. Yet how could she have keener impressions than these shewas receiving? It was all a problem. She grew tired of thinking. Buteven then her mind pondered on, a stream of consciousness over which shehad no control. This dreary woods was deserted. No birds, no squirrels,no creatures such as fancy anticipated! In another direction, across thecanyon, she saw cattle, gaunt, ragged, lumbering, and stolid. And on themoment the scent of sheep came on the breeze. Time seemed to stand stillhere, and what Carley wanted most was for the hours and days to fly, sothat she would be home again.

  At last Flo returned with the men. One quick glance at Glenn convincedCarley that Flo had not yet told him about the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff.

  "Carley, you're a real sport," declared Glenn, with the rare smile sheloved. "It's a dreadful mess. And to think you stood it!... Why, oldFifth Avenue, if you needed to make another hit with me you've done it!"

  His warmth amazed and pleased Carley. She could not quite understandwhy it would have made any difference to him whether she had stood theordeal or not. But then every day she seemed to drift a little fartherfrom a real understanding of her lover. His praise gladdened her, andfortified her to face the rest of this ride back to Oak Creek.

  Four hours later, in a twilight so shadowy that no one saw her distress,Carley half slipped and half fell from her horse and managed somehow tomount the steps and enter the bright living room. A cheerful red fireblazed on the hearth; Glenn's hound, Moze, trembled eagerly at sight ofher and looked up with humble dark eyes; the white-clothed dinner tablesteamed with savory dishes. Flo stood before the blaze, warming herhands. Lee Stanton leaned against the mantel, with eyes on her, andevery line of his lean, hard face expressed his devotion to her.Hutter was taking his seat at the head of the table. "Come an' getit--you-all," he called, heartily. Mrs. Hutter's face beamed with thespirit of that home. And lastly, Carley saw Glenn waiting for her,watching her come, true in this very moment to his stern hope for herand pride in her, as she dragged her weary, spent body toward him andthe bright fire.

  By these signs, or the effect of them, Carley vaguely realized that shewas incalculably changing, that this Carley Burch had become a vastlybigger person in the sight of her friends, and strangely in her own alesser creature.