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of a dog she had once owned.
"Wal, it ain't a-goin' to be a nice day," remarked Charley, as he tried to
accommodate his strides to Carley's steps.
"How can you tell?" asked Carley. "It looks clear and bright."
"Naw, this is a dark mawnin'. Thet's a cloudy sun. We'll hev snow on an'
off."
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"Do you mind bad weather?"
"Me? All the same to me. Reckon, though, I like it cold so I can loaf round
a big fire at night."
"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
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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 world 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.
"Well, old Fifth Avenue gadder!" called a gay voice. "If the back wall of my
yard so halts you what will you ever do when you see the Painted Desert, or
climb Sunset Peak, or look down into the Grand Canyon?"
"Oh, Glenn, where are you?" cried Carley, gazing everywhere near at hand.
But he was farther away. The clearness of his voice had deceived her.
Presently she espied him a little distance away, across a creek she had not
before noticed.
"Come on," he called. "I want to see you cross the stepping stones."
Carley ran ahead, down a little slope of clean red rock, to the shore of the
green water. It was clear, swift, deep in some places and shallow in others,
with white wreathes or ripples around the rocks evidently placed there as a
means to cross. Carley drew back aghast.
"Glenn, I could never make it," she called.
"Come on, my Alpine climber," he taunted. "Will you let Arizona daunt you?"
"Do you want me to fall in and catch cold?" she cried, desperately.
"Carley, big women might even cross the bad places of modern life on
stepping stones of their dead selves!" he went on, with something of mockery.
"Surely a few physical steps are not beyond you."
"Say, are you mangling Tennyson or just kidding me?" she demanded slangily.
"My love, Flo could cross here with her eyes shut."
That thrust spurred Carley to action. His words were jest, yet they held a
hint of earnest. With her heart at her throat Carley stepped on the first
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rock, and, poising, she calculated on a running leap from stone to stone. Once
launched, she felt she was falling downhill. She swayed, she splashed, she
slipped; and clearing the longest leap from the last stone to shore she lost
her balance and fell into Glenn's arms. His kisses drove away both her panic
and her resentment.
"By Jove! I didn't think you'd even attempt it!" he declared, manifestly
pleased. "I made sure I'd have to pack you over in fact, rather liked the
idea."
"I wouldn't advise you to employ any such means again to dare me," she
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