bulk　of　the　mountains　reached　up　into　the　stormy　clouds；　showing　white　slopes　of　snow　under　the　gray　pall。
  The　hoofs　of　the　horses　sank　in　the　cinders。　A　fine　choking　dust　assailed　Carley's　nostrils。　Presently；　when　there　appeared　at　least　a　third　of　the　ascent　still　to　be　accomplished　and　Flo　dismounted　to　walk；　leading　their　horses。　Carley　had　no　choice　but　to　do　likewise。　At　first　walking　was　a　relief。　Soon；　however；　the　soft　yielding　cinders　began　to　drag　at　her　feet。　At　every　step　she　slipped　back　a　few　inches；　a　very　annoying　feature　of　climbing。　When　her　legs　seemed　to　grow　dead　Carley　paused　for　a　little　rest。　The　last　of　the　ascent；　over　a　few　hundred　yards　of　looser　cinders；　taxed　her　remaining　strength　to　the　limit。　She　grew　hot　and　wet　and　out　of　breath。　Her　heart　labored。　An　unreasonable　antipathy　seemed　to　attend　her　efforts。　Only　her　ridiculous　vanity　held　her　to　this　task。　She　wanted　to　please　Glenn；　but　not　so　earnestly　that　she　would　have　kept　on　plodding　up　this　ghastly　bare　mound　of　cinders。　Carley　did　not　mind　being　a　tenderfoot；　but　she　hated　the　thought　of　these　Westerners　considering　her　a　weakling。　So　she　bore　the　pain　of　raw　blisters　and　the　miserable　sensation　of　staggering　on　under　a　leaden　weight。
  Several　times　she　noted　that　Flo　and　Stanton　halted　to　face　each　other　in　rather　heated　argument。　At　least　Stanton's　red　face　and　forceful　gestures　attested　to　heat　on　his　part。　Flo　evidently　was　weary　of　argument；　and　in　answer　to　a　sharp　reproach　she　retorted；　〃Shore　I　was　different　after　he　came。〃　To　which　Stanton　responded　by　a　quick　passionate　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　the　green　level　without　really　seeing　it。　A　vague　sadness　weighed　upon　her　soul。　Was　there　to　be　a　tangle　of　fates　here；　a　conflict　of　wills；　a　crossing　of　loves？　Flo's　terse　confession　could　not　be　taken　lightly。　Did　she　mean　that　she　loved　Glenn？　Carley　began　to　fear　it。　Only　another　reason　why　she　must　persuade　Glenn　to　go　back　East！　But　the　closer　Carley　came　to　what　she　divined　must　be　an　ordeal　the　more　she　dreaded　it。　This　raw；　crude　West　might　have　confronted　her　with　a　situation　beyond　her　control。　And　as　she　dragged　her　weighted　feet　through　the　cinders；　kicking；　up　little　puffs　of　black　dust；　she　felt　what　she　admitted　to　be　an　unreasonable　resentment　toward　these　Westerners　and　their　barren；　isolated；　and　boundless　world。
  〃Carley；〃　called　Flo；　〃comelooksee；　as　the　Indians　say。　Here　is　Glenn'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　distinguish　able　void　she　seemed　struck　by　the　immensity　of　something　she　was　unable　to　grasp。　She　dropped　her　bridle；　she　gazed　slowly；　as　if　drawn；　hearing　Flo's　voice。
  〃That　thin　green　line　of　cottonwoods　down　there　is　the　Little　Colorado　River；〃　Flo　was　saying。　〃Reckon　it's　sixty　miles；　all　down　hill。　The　Painted　Desert　begins　there　and　also　the　Navajo　Reservation。　You　see　the　white　strips；　the　red　veins；　the　yellow　bars；　the　black　lines。　They　are　all　desert　steps　leading　up　and　up　for　miles。　That　sharp　black　peak　is　called　Wildcat。　It's　about　a　hundred　miles。　You　see　the　desert　stretching　away　to　the　right；　growing　dimlost　in　distance？　We　don't　know　that　country。　But　that　north　country　we　know　as　landmarks；　anyway。　Look　at　that　saw…tooth　range。　The　Indians　call　it　Echo　Cliffs。　At　the　far　end　it　drops　off　into　the　Colorado　River。　Lee's　Ferry　is　thereabout　one　hundred　and　sixty　miles。　That　ragged　black　rent　is　the　Grand　Canyon。　Looks　like　a　thread；　doesn't　it？　But　Carley；　it's　some　hole；　believe　me。　Away　to　the　left　you　see　the　tremendous　wall　rising　and　turning　to　come　this　way。　That's　the　north　wall　of　the　Canyon。　It　ends　at　the　great　bluffGreenland　Point。　See　the　black　fringe　above　the　bar　of　gold。　That's　a　belt　of　pine　trees。　It's　about　eighty　miles　across　this　ragged　old　stone　washboard　of　a　desert。　。　。　。　Now　turn　and　look　straight　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't　often　get　this　view。　。　。　。　That　purple　dome　is　Navajo　Mountain；　two　hundred　miles　and　more　away！〃
  Carley　yielded　to　some　strange　drawing　power　and　slowly　walked　forward　until　she　stood　at　the　extreme　edge　of　the　summit。
  What　was　it　that　confounded　her　sight？　Desert　slopedown　and　downcolor　distancespace！　The　wind　that　blew　in　her　face　seemed　to　have　the　openness　of　the　whole　world　back　of　it。　Cold；　sweet；　dry；　exhilarating；　it　breathed　of　untainted　vastness。　Carley's　memory　pictures　of　the　Adirondacks　faded　into　pastorals；　her　vaunted　images　of　European　scenery　changed　to　operetta　settings。　She　had　nothing　with　which　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　camp　trainin'　for　service　overseas　I　used　to　remember　how　this　looked。　An'　it　seemed　one　of　the　things　I　was　goin'　to　fight　for。　Reckon　I　didn't　the　idea　of　the　Germans　havin'　my　Painted　Desert。　I　didn't　get　across　to　fight　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　of　the　West　seemed　flung　at　her。　What　her　vision　beheld；　so　far…reaching　and　boundless；　was　only　a　dot　on　the　map。
  〃Does　any　one　liveout　there？〃　she　asked；　with　slow　sweep　of　hand。
  〃A　few　white　traders　and　some　Indian　tribes；〃　replied　Stanton。　〃But　you　can　ride　all　day　an'　next　day　an'　never　see　a　livin'　soul。〃
  What　was　the　meaning　of　the　gratification　in　his　voice？　Did　Westerners　court　loneliness？　Carley　wrenched　her　gaze　from　the　desert　void　to　look　at　her　companions。　Stanton's　eyes　were　narrowed；　his　expression　had　changed；　lean　and　hard　and　still；　his　face　resembled　bronze。　The　careless　humor　was　gone；　as　was　the　heated　flush　of　his　quarrel　with　Flo。　The　girl；　too；　had　subtly　changed；　had　responded　to　an　influence　that　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　that　spiritualized　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　so　on　to　the　wonderful　mystic　haze　of　distance。　The　significance　of　Flo's　designation　of　miles　could　not　be　grasped　by　Carley。　She　could　not　estimate　distance。　But　she　did　not　need　that　to　realize　her　perceptions　were　swallowed　up　by　magnitude。　Hitherto　the　power　of　her　eyes　had　been　unknown。　How　splendid　to　see　afar！　She　could　seeyesbut　what　did　she　see？　Space　first；　annihilating　space；　dwarfing　her　preconceived　images；　and　then　wondrous　colors！　What　had　she　known　of　color？　No　wonder　artists　failed　adequately　and　truly　to　paint　mountains；　let　alone　the　desert　space。　The　toiling　millions　of　the　crowded　cities　were　ignorant　of　this　terrible　beauty　and　sublimity。　Would　it　have　helped　them　to　see？　But　just　to　breathe　that　untainted　air；　just　to　see　once　the　boundless　open　of　colored　sand　and　rockto　realize　what　the　freedom　of　eagles　meant　would　not　that　have　helped　anyone？
  And　with　the　thought　there　came　to　Carley's　quickened　and　struggling　mind　a　conception　of　freedom。　She　had　not　yet　watched　eagles；　but　she　now　gazed　out　into　their　domain。　What　then　must　be　the　effect　of　such　environment　on　people　whom　it　encompassed？　The　idea　stunned　Carley。　Would　such　people　grow　in　proportion　to　the　nature　with　which　they　were　in　conflict？　Hereditary　influence　could　not　be　comparable　to　such　environment　in　the　shaping　of　character。
  〃Shore　I　could　stand　here　all　day；〃　said　Flo。　〃But　it's　beginning　to　cloud　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　before　you　get　a　comfortable　feelin'　here；〃　said　Stanton。
  It　surprised　Carley　to　see　that　this　young　Westerner　had　hit　upon　the　truth。　He　understood　her。　Indeed　she　was　uncomfortable。　She　was　oppressed；　vaguely　unhappy。　But　why？　The　thing　therethe　infinitude　of　open　sand　and　rockwas　beautiful；　wonderful；　even　glorious。　She　looked　again。
  Steep　black…cindered　slope；　with　its　soft　gray　patches　of　grass；　sheered　down　and　down；　and　out　in　rolling　slope　to　merge　upon　a　cedar…dotted　level。　Nothing　moved　below；　but　a　red…tailed　hawk　sailed　across　her　vision。　How　still…how　gray　the　desert　floor　as　it　reached　away；　losing　its　black　dots；　and　gaining　bronze　spots　of　stone！　By　plain　and　prairie　it　fell　away；　each　inch　of　gray　in　her　sight　magnifying　into　its　league…long　roll；　On　and　on；　and　down　across　dark　lines　that　were　steppes；　and　at　last　blocked　and　changed　by　the　meandering　green　thread　which　was　the　verdure　of　a　desert　river。　Beyond　stretched　the　white　sand；　where　whirlwinds　of　dus