CHAPTER XX

The Grand Canyon

“I would give a great deal to be going down into the Grand Canyon with you today, Miss Ellen.”

Ellen Deal looked closely at her companion.

“I don’t think you ought to wish for anything these days, because so much that is good has already come to you.”

She spoke seriously and was very much in earnest; nevertheless her companion laughed.

The young man and woman were standing together at the summit of a cliff. Thousands of feet below them lay the bottom of the Grand Canyon, through which the Colorado River runs for a distance of two hundred and seventeen miles, with a world of adamant and of radiant color lying between the surface of the earth and this part of its interior.

Near them were a dozen or more other persons getting ready for the descent into the canyon.

“You are perfectly right, as you are apt to be, Miss Ellen Deal,” Robert Clark returned. “Fate has been kind to me recently—kinder than I deserve. It is wonderful that Mrs. Burton’s husband is to put on my new play. I sent it to him before Marta and I had met any of her Camp Fire party. But I suppose she did bring me good luck in this as in another thing, because it was hearing that the famous Polly O’Neill Burton was in this neighborhood, which inspired me to offer my play to her husband.”

Ellen Deal nodded vigorously, the already bright color in her face growing brighter.

“Mrs. Burton says she likes your play immensely. She read the manuscript about two weeks ago. And, of course, I am sorry you can’t go down into the canyon with us. It is only my unfortunate way of expressing myself. What I really meant was that I am glad you are so much better and have had such good fortune with your writing. I don’t feel nearly so worried about you. We shall be going away from here after a little, but I feel sure now that you are going to get well.”

“And you won’t stay on with Marta and me when I have explained to you that I can now afford to pay you for the care you will give us? I know it isn’t much to offer, but I told you exactly what Mr. Burton had given me as an advance royalty on my play. Living simply, as we do out here, it ought to last some time. Besides, who knows what may happen, now my luck has turned? Queer, isn’t it, how bad fortune often brings good? If I had kept on at my newspaper job it might have been a good many years before I had the opportunity to write a play. Besides, through being ill, haven’t I come to knowing you.”

Ellen Deal blushed furiously and unbecomingly, as she already had too much color to make any more desirable. She was one of the persons who have not the faintest idea how to receive a compliment gracefully. A compliment made her even more curt and severe in her manner than usual. And Robert Clark had a Southerner’s graceful fashion of being complimentary to women in the most charming and apparently sincere way.

“I told you I would not stay with you at any price when you no longer need me. You were very much afraid of my offering you charity when I volunteered to nurse you until you were stronger. Now, that you do not require the services of a nurse, it seems you are offering charity to me. It is totally unnecessary. Mrs. Burton has asked me to continue to remain for a time longer with the Camp Fire party.”

Then, unexpectedly, Ellen Deal’s eyes filled with tears.

How utterly ungracious and unattractive her speech sounded! Nevertheless she greatly wished Mr. Clark and his sister to remember her with pleasure, when they were so soon to be separated and probably would not meet again.

But Robert Clark did not appear to be either angry or hurt.

Instead, he continued looking at the young woman beside him with a kind of grave tenderness.

“Has it never occurred to you, Ellen, that I may need and want you for other reasons; that I may wish to care for you more than I wish you to care for me? But I have no right to speak of this to you now—not until I am absolutely well.”

He held out his thin, somewhat scholarly hand and Ellen Deal put her own capable, executive one into it. She did not understand all her companion’s speech implied, and yet she had a flooding sense of happiness.

“A happy day to you; I must go now and wish Mrs. Burton good luck. You are wonderfully kind to have included Marta in your excursion into the canyon. And I have enjoyed my ride with you this far. Good-bye.”

The Camp Fire party had this morning driven along a wonderful roadway which is built beside the brink of the canyon for a number of miles. They had finished an early luncheon at an odd road house imitating the Spanish style and furnished with Spanish furniture.

At the present moment Mrs. Burton was standing on the great porch of this hotel talking to several of the Grand Canyon guides and entirely surrounded by members of her Camp Fire party. The others were not far away, but outside in the hotel grounds.

Billy Webster was standing alongside his aunt looking perfectly well and cheerful. Two weeks had passed since his arrest, but three days only had been required for securing his release.

Mrs. Burton had, of course, immediately obtained the interest and the services of several influential men, who promised to get her nephew out of his difficulty as quickly as possible.

Then Billy’s own story had been perfectly straightforward. He did not deny his acquaintance with the strikers, but he did assert that his effort with them had been against their employing violence. There was, also, Ralph Marshall’s testimony that his story was true. Also, there was Billy’s youth and his family’s prominence to help him. Whatever the reason or combination of reasons, the boy’s case was dismissed after three days although there was still the possibility that he might be called as a witness at the trial of the suspected men.

However, Billy had apparently borne his experience without much suffering in mind or body. He had not looked so well or animated, as he did today, since his arrival in Arizona. He had also managed to make peace with his family for his escapade, which was more important. However, Mrs. Burton insisted that he never be allowed to get very far out of her own or her sister’s sight while they were in Arizona, so they need have no further shocks through Billy’s proceedings.

The entire Camp Fire party, excepting Mrs. Webster and Marie, who had wisely remained at camp, was to descend on mule back down one of the Grand Canyon trails to a plateau above the Colorado River. The trail was one of the easiest, nevertheless it required thirty-six hours and they were therefore to spend the night at a camp midway down the incline.

Ralph Marshall, Terry Benton and Howard Brent also were members of the expedition and Robert Clark had taken the drive, but was not strong enough to go all the way down the trail.

There is an appalling grandeur and an almost indescribable beauty in a descent into the Grand Canyon. And the spectacle affects persons very differently, according to their temperaments. To some the gigantic awfulness of this huge and mysterious world of stone is more impressive than its beauty or its majesty. To others it appears as a divine monument of God, revealing the mystery of creation rather than inspiring terror.

But whatever the effect on the Camp Fire party of the scene about them, as they traveled slowly and carefully down the steep path, getting deeper and deeper into the center of the earth, they were more silent and self-absorbed than ever before. Even Sally Ashton and Gerry Williams forgot to chatter, or else were too much occupied with their efforts not to come to grief, as the riding was extremely difficult.

About sundown the rude little houses built on a rocky plateau which were to be their shelter for the night appeared as havens of refuge to each of the travelers.

As soon as they could dismount, everybody disappeared inside the houses to rest, leaving only Peggy Webster and Ralph Marshall outside in company with the guides who were looking after the mules. Peggy walked over to the edge of the cliff and stood there looking down, and Ralph waited a moment in order to be able to speak to her.

“I have never been able to forgive myself, Peggy, for clutching at you the afternoon I tumbled over one of these cliffs,” a voice said unexpectedly at the girl’s elbow. “I do many things I ought not, but I hate to think of adding cowardice to my weaknesses.”

Ralph Marshall’s face was so troubled that Peggy involuntarily slipped her arm inside his. Of course, one never forgets an unkindness; it is hardly possible, but she had in a measure forgiven Ralph for his once careless attitude toward her. Moreover, at present it made one feel safer and happier to have the touch of something human near one, while beholding so much of nature in an unfriendly mood.

“Don’t be absurd, Ralph; your reaching out was involuntary. Besides, you hardly touched me. Anyone would have done what you did without thinking. There was no time, and I would not have fallen as you hardly touched me, except that the ground also gave way under my feet.”

“You are a good sport, Peggy, but it scarcely needs me to tell you so.”

Peppy turned toward her companion with one of her clearest and most straightforward expressions.

“I like to hear you say so though, Ralph,” she answered.

Then, in order to change the young man’s train of thought, she stared at the great mountains of color up above them and then at the deeper one at their feet.

“Do you suppose life is as wonderful and as beautiful a journey, Ralph, as the climb through this canyon?”

Ralph returned her gaze steadily.

“I think it will be for you, Peggy, I wish I were as certain for myself. But we shall be reaching the end of the trail into the canyon tomorrow. May I wish we may be good friends to the end of a longer trail?”

Peggy had only time to answer, “yes,” when Mrs. Burton, coming to the door, called her into their little lodging for the night.

BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK

THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES

The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge The Ranch Girls’ Pot of Gold The Ranch Girls at Boarding School The Ranch Girls in Europe The Ranch Girls at Home Again The Ranch Girls and Their Great Adventure

THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES

The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line The Red Cross Girls in Belgium The Red Cross Girls with the Russian Army The Red Cross Girls with the Italian Army The Red Cross Girls Under the Stars and Stripes

STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS

The Camp Fire Girls at Sunrise Hill The Camp Fire Girls Amid the Snows The Camp Fire Girls in the Outside World The Camp Fire Girls Across the Sea The Camp Fire Girls’ Careers The Camp Fire Girls in After Years The Camp Fire Girls on the Edge of the Desert The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines The Camp Fire Girls on the Field of Honor

Transcriber’s Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.

--Silently corrected palpable typos.

--Conjecturally repaired a lacuna on page 73 to “clear”.

--Conjecturally repaired damage across several lines on page 187 between “himself” and “treatment”.

--Moved promotional material to the end of the text.

--Relocated illustrations to be near the relevant text.

--Corrected one inconsistently-cited book title (“... on the Edge of the Desert”) to match the actual book.