The Call of the Canyon by Zane Grey
page 53 of 258 (20%)
page 53 of 258 (20%)
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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 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 |
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