The Call of the Canyon

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER VII

  The day came when Carley asked Mrs. Hutter: "Will you please put up anice lunch for Glenn and me? I'm going to walk down to his farm wherehe's working, and surprise him."

  "That's a downright fine idea," declared Mrs. Hutter, and forthwithbustled away to comply with Carley's request.

  So presently Carley found herself carrying a bountiful basket on herarm, faring forth on an adventure that both thrilled and depressed her.Long before this hour something about Glenn's work had quickened herpulse and given rise to an inexplicable admiration. That he was big andstrong enough to do such labor made her proud; that he might want to goon doing it made her ponder and brood.

  The morning resembled one of the rare Eastern days in June, when the airappeared flooded by rich thick amber light. Only the sun here was hotterand the shade cooler.

  Carley took to the trail below where West Fork emptied its golden-greenwaters into Oak Creek. The red walls seemed to dream and wait under theblaze of the sun; the heat lay like a blanket over the still foliage;the birds were quiet; only the murmuring stream broke the silence ofthe canyon. Never had Carley felt more the isolation and solitude ofOak Creek Canyon. Far indeed from the madding crowd! Only Carley'sstubbornness kept her from acknowledging the sense of peace thatenveloped her--that and the consciousness of her own discontent. Whatwould it be like to come to this canyon--to give up to its enchantments?That, like many another disturbing thought, had to go unanswered, tobe driven into the closed chambers of Carley's mind, there to germinatesubconsciously, and stalk forth some day to overwhelm her.

  The trail led along the creek, threading a maze of bowlders, passinginto the shade of cottonwoods, and crossing sun-flecked patches of sand.Carley's every step seemed to become slower. Regrets were assailingher. Long indeed had she overstayed her visit to the West. She must notlinger there indefinitely. And mingled with misgiving was a surprisethat she had not tired of Oak Creek. In spite of all, and of the dislikeshe vaunted to herself, the truth stared at her--she was not tired.

  The long-delayed visit to see Glenn working on his own farm must resultin her talking to him about his work; and in a way not quite clear sheregretted the necessity for it. To disapprove of Glenn! She receivedfaint intimations of wavering, of uncertainty, of vague doubt. But thesewere cried down by the dominant and habitable voice of her personality.

  Presently through the shaded and shadowed breadth of the belt of forestshe saw gleams of a sunlit clearing. And crossing this space to theborder of trees she peered forth, hoping to espy Glenn at his labors.She saw an old shack, and irregular lines of rude fence built of polesof all sizes and shapes, and several plots of bare yellow ground,leading up toward the west side of the canyon wall. Could this clearingbe Glenn's farm? Surely she had missed it or had not gone far enough.This was not a farm, but a slash in the forested level of the canyonfloor, bare and somehow hideous. Dead trees were standing in the lots.They had been ringed deeply at the base by an ax, to kill them, and soprevent their foliage from shading the soil. Carley saw a long pile ofrocks that evidently had been carried from the plowed ground. Therewas no neatness, no regularity, although there was abundant evidence oftoil. To clear that rugged space, to fence it, and plow it, appeared atonce to Carley an extremely strenuous and useless task. Carley persuadedherself that this must be the plot of ground belonging to the herderCharley, and she was about to turn on down the creek when far up underthe bluff she espied a man. He was stalking along and bending down,stalking along and bending down. She recognized Glenn. He was plantingsomething in the yellow soil.

  Curiously Carley watched him, and did not allow her mind to becomeconcerned with a somewhat painful swell of her heart. What a stride hehad! How vigorous he looked, and earnest! He was as intent upon this jobas if he had been a rustic. He might have been failing to do it well,but he most certainly was doing it conscientiously. Once he had said toher that a man should never be judged by the result of his labors, butby the nature of his effort. A man might strive with all his heart andstrength, yet fail. Carley watched him striding along and bending down,absorbed in his task, unmindful of the glaring hot sun, and somehow toher singularly detached from the life wherein he had once moved and towhich she yearned to take him back. Suddenly an unaccountable flashingquery assailed her conscience: How dare she want to take him back? Sheseemed as shocked as if some stranger had accosted her. What was thisdimming of her eye, this inward tremulousness; this dammed tide beatingat an unknown and riveted gate of her intelligence? She felt more thenthan she dared to face. She struggled against something in herself. Theold habit of mind instinctively resisted the new, the strange. But shedid not come off wholly victorious. The Carley Burch whom she recognizedas of old, passionately hated this life and work of Glenn Kilbourne's,but the rebel self, an unaccountable and defiant Carley, loved him allthe better for them.

  Carley drew a long deep breath before she called Glenn. This meetingwould be momentous and she felt no absolute surety of herself.

  Manifestly he was surprised to hear her call, and, dropping his sackand implement, he hurried across the tilled ground, sending up puffs ofdust. He vaulted the rude fence of poles, and upon sight of hercalled out lustily. How big and virile he looked! Yet he was gaunt andstrained. It struck Carley that he had not looked so upon her arrival atOak Creek. Had she worried him? The query gave her a pang.

  "Sir Tiller of the Fields," said Carley, gayly, "see, your dinner! Ibrought it and I am going to share it."

  "You old darling!" he replied, and gave her an embrace that left hercheek moist with the sweat of his. He smelled of dust and earth and hisbody was hot. "I wish to God it could be true for always!"

  His loving, bearish onslaught and his words quite silenced Carley. Howat critical moments he always said the thing that hurt her or inhibitedher! She essayed a smile as she drew back from him.

  "It's sure good of you," he said, taking the basket. "I was thinking I'dbe through work sooner today, and was sorry I had not made a date withyou. Come, we'll find a place to sit."

  Whereupon he led her back under the trees to a half-sunny, half-shadybench of rock overhanging the stream. Great pines overshadowed a still,eddying pool. A number of brown butterflies hovered over the water, andsmall trout floated like spotted feathers just under the surface. Drowsysummer enfolded the sylvan scene.

  Glenn knelt at the edge of the brook, and, plunging his hands in, hesplashed like a huge dog and bathed his hot face and head, and thenturned to Carley with gay words and laughter, while he wiped himself drywith a large red scarf. Carley was not proof against the virility of himthen, and at the moment, no matter what it was that had made him the manhe looked, she loved it.

  "I'll sit in the sun," he said, designating a place. "When you're hotyou mustn't rest in the shade, unless you've coat or sweater. But yousit here in the shade."

  "Glenn, that'll put us too far apart," complained Carley. "I'll sit inthe sun with you."

  The delightful simplicity and happiness of the ensuing hour wassomething Carley believed she would never forget.

  "There! we've licked the platter clean," she said. "What starved bearswe were!.... I wonder if I shall enjoy eating--when I get home. I usedto be so finnicky and picky."

  "Carley, don't talk about home," said Glenn, appealingly.

  "You dear old farmer, I'd love to stay here and just dream--forever,"replied Carley, earnestly. "But I came on purpose to talk seriously."

  "Oh, you did! About what?" he returned, with some quick, indefinablechange of tone and expression.

  "Well, first about your work. I know I hurt your feelings when Iwouldn't listen. But I wasn't ready. I wanted to--to just be gay withyou for a while. Don't think I wasn't interested. I was. And now, I'mready to hear all about it--and everything."

  She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseenshock upset her composure, she would be able to conceal from himanything which might hurt his feelings.

  "You do look serious," he said, with k
een eyes on her.

  "Just what are your business relations with Hutter?" she inquired.

  "I'm simply working for him," replied Glenn. "My aim is to get aninterest in his sheep, and I expect to, some day. We have some plans.And one of them is the development of that Deep Lake section. Youremember--you were with us. The day Spillbeans spilled you?"

  "Yes, I remember. It was a pretty place," she replied.

  Carley did not tell him that for a month past she had owned theDeep Lake section of six hundred and forty acres. She had, in fact,instructed Hutter to purchase it, and to keep the transaction a secretfor the present. Carley had never been able to understand the impulsethat prompted her to do it. But as Hutter had assured her it was aremarkably good investment on very little capital, she had triedto persuade herself of its advantages. Back of it all had been anirresistible desire to be able some day to present to Glenn this ranchsite he loved. She had concluded he would never wholly dissociatehimself from this West; and as he would visit it now and then, shehad already begun forming plans of her own. She could stand a month inArizona at long intervals.

  "Hutter and I will go into cattle raising some day," went on Glenn. "Andthat Deep Lake place is what I want for myself."

  "What work are you doing for Hutter?" asked Carley.

  "Anything from building fence to cutting timber," laughed Glenn. "I'venot yet the experience to be a foreman like Lee Stanton. Besides, I havea little business all my own. I put all my money in that."

  "You mean here--this--this farm?"

  "Yes. And the stock I'm raisin'. You see I have to feed corn. Andbelieve me, Carley, those cornfields represent some job."

  "I can well believe that," replied Carley. "You--you looked it."

  "Oh, the hard work is over. All I have to do now it to plant and keepthe weeds out."

  "Glenn, do sheep eat corn?"

  "I plant corn to feed my hogs."

  "Hogs?" she echoed, vaguely.

  "Yes, hogs," he said, with quiet gravity. "The first day you visited mycabin I told you I raised hogs, and I fried my own ham for your dinner."

  "Is that what you--put your money in?"

  "Yes. And Hutter says I've done well."

  "Hogs!" ejaculated Carley, aghast.

  "My dear, are you growin' dull of comprehension?" retorted Glenn."H-o-g-s." He spelled the word out. "I'm in the hog-raising business,and pretty blamed well pleased over my success so far."

  Carley caught herself in time to quell outwardly a shock of amaze andrevulsion. She laughed, and exclaimed against her stupidity. The lookof Glenn was no less astounding than the content of his words. He wasactually proud of his work. Moreover, he showed not the least sign thathe had any idea such information might be startlingly obnoxious to hisfiancee.

  "Glenn! It's so--so queer," she ejaculated. "That you--GlennKilbourne-should ever go in for--for hogs!... It's unbelievable. How'dyou ever--ever happen to do it?"

  "By Heaven! you're hard on me!" he burst out, in sudden dark, fiercepassion. "How'd I ever happen to do it?... What was there left for me?I gave my soul and heart and body to the government--to fight for mycountry. I came home a wreck. What did my government do for me? What didmy employers do for me? What did the people I fought for do for me?...Nothing--so help me God--nothing!... I got a ribbon and a bouquet--alittle applause for an hour--and then the sight of me sickened mycountrymen. I was broken and used. I was absolutely forgotten.... Butmy body, my life, my soul meant all to me. My future was ruined, but Iwanted to live. I had killed men who never harmed me--I was not fit todie.... I tried to live. So I fought out my battle alone. Alone!...No one understood. No one cared. I came West to keep from dying ofconsumption in sight of the indifferent mob for whom I had sacrificedmyself. I chose to die on my feet away off alone somewhere.... But I gotwell. And what made me well--and saved my soul--was the first work thatoffered. Raising and tending hogs!"

  The dead whiteness of Glenn's face, the lightning scorn of his eyes, thegrim, stark strangeness of him then had for Carley a terrible harmonywith this passionate denunciation of her, of her kind, of the Americafor whom he had lost all.

  "Oh, Glenn!--forgive--me!" she faltered. "I was only--talking. What do Iknow? Oh, I am blind--blind and little!"

  She could not bear to face him for a moment, and she hung her head. Herintelligence seemed concentrating swift, wild thoughts round the shockto her consciousness. By that terrible expression of his face, by thosethundering words of scorn, would she come to realize the mighty truthof his descent into the abyss and his rise to the heights. Vaguely shebegan to see. An awful sense of her deadness, of her soul-blightingselfishness, began to dawn upon her as something monstrous out of dim,gray obscurity. She trembled under the reality of thoughts that were notnew. How she had babbled about Glenn and the crippled soldiers! How shehad imagined she sympathized! But she had only been a vain, worldly,complacent, effusive little fool. She had here the shock of her life,and she sensed a greater one, impossible to grasp.

  "Carley, that was coming to you," said Glenn, presently, with deep,heavy expulsion of breath.

  "I only know I love you--more--more," she cried, wildly, looking up andwanting desperately to throw herself in his arms.

  "I guess you do--a little," he replied. "Sometimes I feel you are akid. Then again you represent the world--your world with its age-oldcustom--its unalterable.... But, Carley, let's get back to my work."

  "Yes--yes," exclaimed Carley, gladly. "I'm ready to--to go pet yourhogs--anything."

  "By George! I'll take you up," he declared. "I'll bet you won't go nearone of my hogpens."

  "Lead me to it!" she replied, with a hilarity that was only a nervousreversion of her state.

  "Well, maybe I'd better hedge on the bet," he said, laughing again. "Youhave more in you than I suspect. You sure fooled me when you stood forthe sheep-dip. But, come on, I'll take you anyway."

  So that was how Carley found herself walking arm in arm with Glenndown the canyon trail. A few moments of action gave her at least anappearance of outward composure. And the state of her emotion was sostrained and intense that her slightest show of interest must deceiveGlenn into thinking her eager, responsive, enthusiastic. It certainlyappeared to loosen his tongue. But Carley knew she was farther fromnormal than ever before in her life, and that the subtle, inscrutablewoman's intuition of her presaged another shock. Just as she had seemedto change, so had the aspects of the canyon undergone some illusivetransformation. The beauty of green foliage and amber stream and browntree trunks and gray rocks and red walls was there; and the summerdrowsiness and languor lay as deep; and the loneliness and solitudebrooded with its same eternal significance. But some namelessenchantment, perhaps of hope, seemed no longer to encompass her. A blowhad fallen upon her, the nature of which only time could divulge.

  Glenn led her around the clearing and up to the base of the west wall,where against a shelving portion of the cliff had been constructed arude fence of poles. It formed three sides of a pen, and the fourth sidewas solid rock. A bushy cedar tree stood in the center. Water flowedfrom under the cliff, which accounted for the boggy condition of the redearth. This pen was occupied by a huge sow and a litter of pigs.

  Carley climbed on the fence and sat there while Glenn leaned over thetop pole and began to wax eloquent on a subject evidently dear to hisheart. Today of all days Carley made an inspiring listener. Even theshiny, muddy, suspicious old sow in no wise daunted her fictitiouscourage. That filthy pen of mud a foot deep, and of odor rancid, hadno terrors for her. With an arm round Glenn's shoulder she watched therooting and squealing little pigs, and was amused and interested, as ifthey were far removed from the vital issue of the hour. But all the timeas she looked and laughed, and encouraged Glenn to talk, there seemed tobe a strange, solemn, oppressive knocking at her heart. Was it only thebeat-beat-beat of blood?

  "There were twelve pigs in that litter," Glenn was saying, "and nowyou see there are only nine. I've lost three. Mountain lions, bears,coyotes, wild
cats are all likely to steal a pig. And at first I wassure one of these varmints had been robbing me. But as I could not findany tracks, I knew I had to lay the blame on something else. So I keptwatch pretty closely in daytime, and at night I shut the pigs up inthe corner there, where you see I've built a pen. Yesterday I heardsquealing--and, by George! I saw an eagle flying off with one of mypigs. Say, I was mad. A great old bald-headed eagle--the regal bird yousee with America's stars and stripes had degraded himself to the levelof a coyote. I ran for my rifle, and I took some quick shots at him ashe flew up. Tried to hit him, too, but I failed. And the old rascal hungon to my pig. I watched him carry it to that sharp crag way up there onthe rim."

  "Poor little piggy!" exclaimed Carley. "To think of our Americanemblem--our stately bird of noble warlike mien--our symbol of lonelygrandeur and freedom of the heights--think of him being a robber ofpigpens!--Glenn, I begin to appreciate the many-sidedness of things.Even my hide-bound narrowness is susceptible to change. It's never toolate to learn. This should apply to the Society for the Preservation ofthe American Eagle."

  Glenn led her along the base of the wall to three other pens, in each ofwhich was a fat old sow with a litter. And at the last enclosure, thatowing to dry soil was not so dirty, Glenn picked up a little pig andheld it squealing out to Carley as she leaned over the fence. It wasfairly white and clean, a little pink and fuzzy, and certainly cute withits curled tall.

  "Carley Burch, take it in your hands," commanded Glenn.

  The feat seemed monstrous and impossible of accomplishment for Carley.Yet such was her temper at the moment that she would have undertakenanything.

  "Why, shore I will, as Flo says," replied Carley, extending her unglovedhands. "Come here, piggy. I christen you Pinky." And hiding an almostinsupportable squeamishness from Glenn, she took the pig in her handsand fondled it.

  "By George!" exclaimed Glenn, in huge delight. "I wouldn't have believedit. Carley, I hope you tell your fastidious and immaculate Morrison thatyou held one of my pigs in your beautiful hands."

  "Wouldn't it please you more to tell him yourself?" asked Carley.

  "Yes, it would," declared Glenn, grimly.

  This incident inspired Glenn to a Homeric narration of his hog-raisingexperience. In spite of herself the content of his talk interested her.And as for the effect upon her of his singular enthusiasm, it was deepand compelling. The little-boned Berkshire razorback hogs grew so largeand fat and heavy that their bones broke under their weight. The Durocjerseys were the best breed in that latitude, owing to their largerand stronger bones, that enabled them to stand up under the greatestaccumulation of fat.

  Glenn told of his droves of pigs running wild in the canyon below. Insummertime they fed upon vegetation, and at other seasons on acorns,roots, bugs, and grubs. Acorns, particularly, were good and fatteningfeed. They ate cedar and juniper berries, and pinyon nuts. And thereforethey lived off the land, at little or no expense to the owner. Theonly loss was from beasts and birds of prey. Glenn showed Carley howa profitable business could soon be established. He meant to fence offside canyons and to segregate droves of his hogs, and to raise abundanceof corn for winter feed. At that time there was a splendid marketfor hogs, a condition Hutter claimed would continue indefinitely ina growing country. In conclusion Glenn eloquently told how in hisnecessity he had accepted gratefully the humblest of labors, to find inthe hard pursuit of it a rejuvenation of body and mind, and a promise ofindependence and prosperity.

  When he had finished, and excused himself to go repair a weak place inthe corral fence, Carley sat silent, wrapped in strange meditation.

  Whither had faded the vulgarity and ignominy she had attached to Glenn'sraising of hogs? Gone--like other miasmas of her narrow mind! Partly sheunderstood him now. She shirked consideration of his sacrifice to hiscountry. That must wait. But she thought of his work, and the more shethought the less she wondered.

  First he had labored with his hands. What infinite meaning lay unfoldingto her vision! Somewhere out of it all came the conception that man wasintended to earn his bread by the sweat of his brow. But there was moreto it than that. By that toil and sweat, by the friction of horny palms,by the expansion and contraction of muscle, by the acceleration ofblood, something great and enduring, something physical and spiritual,came to a man. She understood then why she would have wanted tosurrender herself to a man made manly by toil; she understood how awoman instinctively leaned toward the protection of a man who had usedhis hands--who had strength and red blood and virility who could fightlike the progenitors of the race. Any toil was splendid that served thisend for any man. It all went back to the survival of the fittest.And suddenly Carley thought of Morrison. He could dance and dangleattendance upon her, and amuse her--but how would he have acquittedhimself in a moment of peril? She had her doubts. Most assuredly hecould not have beaten down for her a ruffian like Haze Ruff. What thenshould be the significance of a man for a woman?

  Carley's querying and answering mind reverted to Glenn. He had founda secret in this seeking for something through the labor of hands. Alldevelopment of body must come through exercise of muscles. The virilityof cell in tissue and bone depended upon that. Thus he had found in toilthe pleasure and reward athletes had in their desultory training. Butwhen a man learned this secret the need of work must become permanent.Did this explain the law of the Persians that every man was required tosweat every day?

  Carley tried to picture to herself Glenn's attitude of mind when hehad first gone to work here in the West. Resolutely she now denied hershrinking, cowardly sensitiveness. She would go to the root of thismatter, if she had intelligence enough. Crippled, ruined in health,wrecked and broken by an inexplicable war, soul-blighted by theheartless, callous neglect of government and public, on the verge ofmadness at the insupportable facts, he had yet been wonderful enough,true enough to himself and God, to fight for life with the instinct ofa man, to fight for his mind with a noble and unquenchable faith.Alone indeed he had been alone! And by some miracle beyond the power ofunderstanding he had found day by day in his painful efforts some hopeand strength to go on. He could not have had any illusions. For GlennKilbourne the health and happiness and success most men held so dearmust have seemed impossible. His slow, daily, tragic, and terrible taskmust have been something he owed himself. Not for Carley Burch! She likeall the others had failed him. How Carley shuddered in confession ofthat! Not for the country which had used him and cast him off! Carleydivined now, as if by a flash of lightning, the meaning of Glenn'sstrange, cold, scornful, and aloof manner when he had encountered youngmen of his station, as capable and as strong as he, who had escaped theservice of the army. For him these men did not exist. They were lessthan nothing. They had waxed fat on lucrative jobs; they had basked inthe presence of girls whose brothers and lovers were in the trenchesor on the turbulent sea, exposed to the ceaseless dread and almostceaseless toil of war. If Glenn's spirit had lifted him to enduranceof war for the sake of others, how then could it fail him in a preciousduty of fidelity to himself? Carley could see him day by day toiling inhis lonely canyon--plodding to his lonely cabin. He had been playingthe game--fighting it out alone as surely he knew his brothers of likemisfortune were fighting.

  So Glenn Kilbourne loomed heroically in Carley's transfigured sight. Hewas one of Carley's battle-scarred warriors. Out of his travail he hadclimbed on stepping-stones of his dead self. Resurgam! That had beenhis unquenchable cry. Who had heard it? Only the solitude of his lonelycanyon, only the waiting, dreaming, watching walls, only the silentmidnight shadows, only the white, blinking, passionless stars, only thewild creatures of his haunts, only the moaning wind in the pines--onlythese had been with him in his agony. How near were these things to God?

  Carley's heart seemed full to bursting. Not another single moment couldher mounting love abide in a heart that held a double purpose. Howbitter the assurance that she had not come West to help him! It wasself, self, all self that had actuated her. Unworthy indeed was she
ofthe love of this man. Only a lifetime of devotion to him could acquither in the eyes of her better self. Sweetly and madly raced the thrilland tumult of her blood. There must be only one outcome to her romance.Yet the next instant there came a dull throbbing--an oppressionwhich was pain--an impondering vague thought of catastrophe. Only thefearfulness of love perhaps!

  She saw him complete his task and wipe his brown moist face and stridetoward her, coming nearer, tall and erect with something added to hissoldierly bearing, with a light in his eyes she could no longer bear.

  The moment for which she had waited more than two months had come atlast.

  "Glenn--when will you go back East?" she asked, tensely and low.

  The instant the words were spent upon her lips she realized that hehad always been waiting and prepared for this question that had been soterrible for her to ask.

  "Carley," he replied gently, though his voice rang, "I am never goingback East."

  An inward quivering hindered her articulation.

  "Never?" she whispered.

  "Never to live, or stay any while," he went on. "I might go some timefor a little visit.... But never to live."

  "Oh--Glenn!" she gasped, and her hands fluttered out to him. The shockwas driving home. No amaze, no incredulity succeeded her reception ofthe fact. It was a slow stab. Carley felt the cold blanch of her skin."Then--this is it--the something I felt strange between us?"

  "Yes, I knew--and you never asked me," he replied.

  "That was it? All the time you knew," she whispered, huskily. "You knew.... I'd never--marry you--never live out here?"

  "Yes, Carley, I knew you'd never be woman enough--American enough--tohelp me reconstruct my broken life out here in the West," he replied,with a sad and bitter smile.

  That flayed her. An insupportable shame and wounded vanity and clamoringlove contended for dominance of her emotions. Love beat down all else.

  "Dearest--I beg of you--don't break my heart," she implored.

  "I love you, Carley," he answered, steadily, with piercing eyes on hers.

  "Then come back--home--home with me."

  "No. If you love me you will be my wife."

  "Love you! Glenn, I worship you," she broke out, passionately. "But Icould not live here--I could not."

  "Carley, did you ever read of the woman who said, 'Whither thou goest,there will I go'..."

  "Oh, don't be ruthless! Don't judge me.... I never dreamed of this. Icame West to take you back."

  "My dear, it was a mistake," he said, gently, softening to her distress."I'm sorry I did not write you more plainly. But, Carley, I could notask you to share this--this wilderness home with me. I don't ask it now.I always knew you couldn't do it. Yet you've changed so--that I hopedagainst hope. Love makes us blind even to what we see."

  "Don't try to spare me. I'm slight and miserable. I stand abased inmy own eyes. I thought I loved you. But I must love best thecrowd--people--luxury--fashion--the damned round of things I was bornto."

  "Carley, you will realize their insufficiency too late," he replied,earnestly. "The things you were born to are love, work, children,happiness."

  "Don't! don't!... they are hollow mockery for me," she cried,passionately. "Glenn, it is the end. It must come--quickly.... You arefree."

  "I do not ask to be free. Wait. Go home and look at it again withdifferent eyes. Think things over. Remember what came to me out of theWest. I will always love you--and I will be here--hoping--"

  "I--I cannot listen," she returned, brokenly, and she clenched herhands tightly to keep from wringing them. "I--I cannot face you.... Hereis--your ring.... You--are--free.... Don't stop me--don't come.... Oh,Glenn, good-by!"

  With breaking heart she whirled away from him and hurried down the slopetoward the trail. The shade of the forest enveloped her. Peering backthrough the trees, she saw Glenn standing where she had left him, asif already stricken by the loneliness that must be his lot. A sob brokefrom Carley's throat. She hated herself. She was in a terrible state ofconflict. Decision had been wrenched from her, but she sensed unendingstrife. She dared not look back again. Stumbling and breathless, shehurried on. How changed the atmosphere and sunlight and shadow of thecanyon! The looming walls had pitiless eyes for her flight. When shecrossed the mouth of West Fork an almost irresistible force breathed toher from under the stately pines.

  An hour later she had bidden farewell to the weeping Mrs. Hutter, and tothe white-faced Flo, and Lolomi Lodge, and the murmuring waterfall, andthe haunting loneliness of Oak Creek Canyon.