--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Malcolm Little collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 6 number: 7 published: 1903-05 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Malcolm Little, "A Week in a Box Canyon," *Improvement Era* 6, no. 7 (May 1903): 485–491.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0607unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0607unse start_page: 485 end_page: 491 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1903-05) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0607unse publication_year: 1903 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1903, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Week in a Box Canyon A WEEK IN A BOX CANYON. THE "IMPROVEMENT ERA" PRIZE STORY. BY MALCOLM LITTLE, STUDENT AT THE LELAND STANFORD UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA. 11. One place might afford me security — the cave had seen I in the opposite cliff. This would serve as well for concealment as for a point of observation. Accordingly, filling my canteen from the troughs, with my wallet, I climbed the smooth, inclined rocks to where the cedar made a dark shadow against the white bluffs. By the limbs, I pulled myself up, as the full moon, rising into the tree-tops on the eastern heights, shot its rays far into the cavern, revealing an area of white sand the size of a large living room. With my knife, 1 cut boughs for a bed, ate hungrily of the meat and crumbs, and before the round face had looked well into the bottom of the canyon, was fast asleep. When I awoke, the sun was on the upper plateau. I looked out; a coil of smoke rose spirally from the chimney of the cabin, and I saw Burley walking about as if subjecting the premises to a careful inspection. He stopped at the window where I had stood, and seemed to scrutinize the soil, picked up the can and turned it over and over. It was strange that, daring as he was reported to be, he had not the night before come out to allay his fears. Dark- ness might have subtle terrors for him, too strong for his physical courage to combat. All day I kept behind my screen. The sun rose still higher, 486 IMPROVEMENT ERA. filling the canyon with summer heat, passed to the west, and it was night. Burley had not left the cabin. I ate the last piece of jerked beef and crumb of bread, and, under the cover of night, crept down and refilled my canteen. From fear of arousing further suspicion, I did not go near the house, but spent another night on my bed of boughs. At an early hour, Burley was astir, but showed no signs of quitting the ranch until about eleven, when he saddled a horse and rode oflf; but since he carried neither coat nor canteen, I inferred his stay would be short.From my commanding position, I watched him a mile or more down the canyon, then, thinking it an opportune time to replenish my depleted stores, I hurried across the hundred yards of meadow land to the cabin. Dried beef, canned stuff, and soda crackers, I jumbled promiscuously into the wallet, until its sides were distended, and even presumed enough on the late return of the owner to sit down and eat inconsiderately of a broken pone and a pan of stewed apples. I was on the point of leaving, when I heard the hoof -beats of horses galloping towards the house. To try for my old haunt was to meet danger face to face.The cave! The wallet safe, I dashed out and back through the low-arched entrance on to the narrow shore of the lake. I heard voices, the slapping of riding-whips, and the rattle of spur-chains, and knew that members of the gang had come. Some led their animal under the rock roof, where they unsaddled, and the neighing and stamping filled the place with echoes. I looked about for a hidden nook, but the encircling walls were smooth, and the narrow strip between the water's edge and the cliff afforded no concealment. In a few minutes, some one would come for water; and if I escaped detection, it would be by the merest accident. I thought of walking boldly out, conclud- ing that my chances would be better than if I were found skulking. Then the trough caught my eye. Would it float me? Could I push it far back out of sight and keep it there until nightfall? I was no boatman, but here was a possible escape. I picked up a rough-hewn slab near by, got cautiously into the crude bark, and poled it off. The skiff was about twelve feet long, and just wide enough for me to sit down in, with legs out in front.It was fearfully A WEEK IN A BOX CANYON. 487 giddy, and with the first stroke of the oar dipped water and nearly capsized, for it was soaked aild heavy. The least unbal- anced motion sent it rocking threateningly. I did not dare to paddle, and laid the board in the hole, with my hands, one on each side in the cold lake, propelling myself forward. I could not look behind for fear of losing my equilibrium, but knew that the least sound within the cave would be distinctly audible. I worked steadily on, painfully light about the heart, as the ripples I made, striking the echoing shore, sounded like much larger waves. The lake was calm, and by the incessant motion of my hands, I was soon far into the shadows, going much faster than the appli- cation of my energies seemed to justify. I raised my wet fingers in the air; a perceptible breeze was blowing in at the mouth, aid- ing materially in my progress. As I drifted farther into the damp, chilly void, the gloom became more dense; my hands began to numb in the icy waters, the sensation creeping up my arms. I ceased to paddle, and sat motionless, not knowing if I advanced or if the wavelets alone were forward. My legs, straight on the damp timber, took on the numbness of my arms. The light faded, and as the slow minutes passed, I began to question the wisdom of this course. Odds were less against me in the hands of men, however unprincipled, than in the grip of fate conveying me thus under the weight of mountains on the bosom of subterranean waters. The air grew more humid and penetrating, and from the in- visible dome, there fell on me, now and then, drops that went to the skin. In the lake they made gurgling, gulping sounds, like myriad gnome voices strangling in the depths. My eyes, growing accus- tomed to the darkness, above I discerned the vaulted roof, and far around, a dark circle where the walls and water seemed to in- tercept. The line became more distinct. Again I put my hands into the lake and paddled. The water now was dripping more pro- fusely, and with the board I could have touched the ceiling. The rear wall was dim before me, and, after a few movements with my hands, the trough slid gently onto wet sand. With the oar, I pushed the stern around and disembarked, finding myself on a strip of shore not five feet wide, with the roof so near above that I could not stand erect. I had no mind to 488 IMPROVEMENT ERA. explore my new domain, for the chilliness set in to make me shiver, going easily through my shirt sleeves and thin summer underwear. I must have paddled a hundred yards or more, as the light from the entrance cast only a faint glimmer half across the lake, leaving the rest gloomed in shadows. No sooner had I adjusted myself on the sand than three men entered the cave. They seemed excited, as I could see looking toward the light, and ran about on the shore, as if in earnest seeking of something. By the perfect echoing, I caught the trend of their conversation. "I saw the tracks come in here," said one, "and he's no cowboy either, for he has on flat-heeled shoes." "The hat shows that," said another, "no feller oh this ranch wears a straw-pile." My hand went to my head. In my haste, I had forgotten my hat, and by it I had been discovered. They must not have entered the cabin directly on arriving, or I should not have got so well out of reach. A tall man, whom I took to be Burley, stood where the trough had been. "He's gone across the lake." x I thought there was a little exultation in the tones. "How do you know?" asked another. "Well, there was a trough here, which I used to water the horses in. It's Some one has pushed it into the lake. gone. See!" And he pointed to marks in the sand. "Here is where he shoved off." "I'd like to take a crack at him," chuckled one of the number. "I think I could make him raise an echo." "No need of that," responded Burley; "he'll have it hard enough as it is; and in a few days he'll be praying for somebody to shoot him. He can do no harm back there, anyway." "It seems to me a trough 'd be a mighty tough bunk for a man to spend his last days in." "I reckon he won't stay there long; it's too cold. Likely 'fore this he's water-soaked." "Don't you think we can get across there some way, Burely? : A WEEK IN A BOX CANYON. 489 We ought to see who he is; and if he's a spy or a sheriff, I'd like to make him eat dirt." "Let him alone," replied Burley; "he's done for, anyhow; besides, I wouldn't go back there for all the cattle in the den. It's too dark. We'll just guard the place a few days, and if he doesn't show up, we'll know where he is." All the afternoon some of them hung round the entrance, eagerly trying to penetrate the thick twilight, and I was afraid for a time, becoming accustomed to the gloom, they would get my outline and make of me a target. But I remembered how dense the shadows were, as I drifted into them, and had less apprehen- sion. Looking towards the light, I had the advantage, and after a while ranged the whole lake over, except to my right, where a cove reached round out of view. As the day wore off and the evening set in, I was sensible of a draught now^toward the mouth . My clothes were saturated, and the breeze went to the marrow, making my teeth chatter and my body shake, as if with the ague. Along the few yards of narrow beach, back and forth, I walked, then ran to generate a little heat within. What would 1 have given for an hour on the sand under a blistering sun! Even another tramp through the heat, as of a few days before, would have been desirable. The light grew dimmer and dimmer, and I knew the day was closing. Deep darkness gloomed out from the recesses of the water, and, converging, moved on towards the entrance, until the last gleam was driven out, and my eyes stared into blank space. Drip, drip, fell the globules echoing from the ceiling, and the ripples formed by the increasing breeze gurgled in the crevices of the unseen shore, and lapped with recurrent dolefulness on the distant sand. Sounds I had not heard until night now were audible the falling of particles of disintegrated cliff loosened by the mois- ture. The wind, as if rushing through a small aperture, set up a lonesome moan, to which the vocal dome answered with tenfold nightly horrors added, and seemed to pass the reverberations on to voices ever receding in the solid masonry. Suddenly there came to my ears harsh gratings, a crash, and crushing sound, as if masses of the earth were being torn asunder; then a tremendous splash, and the water boiled and beat against the walls in repeated 490 IMPROVEMENT ERA. waves. The cavern trembled, making me crouch in momentary expectation of being buried beneath the caving roof. I thought of the mountains hanging over me, of the hundred million tons of rock the ceiling was upholding, and involuntarily I bent my back to resist its falling. I laid my hand on the hard, wet wall, and imagined it was inclining towards me. The lake, too, seemed con- scious of my helplessness, and sent the cold airs from its bosom to compass me round. The rumblings died away, and left me cold and trembling. I remembered Burley's saying that he would not be where I was for all the cattle in the Den; ''nor," thought I, "for all that ever bit grass." My nerves were strung with fear and apprehen- sion; the numbness in my limbs grew more painful, and I hardly dared to move through the solid blackness, lest a misdirected step send me headlong into the arctic waters. A fresh gust of wind came, and with more chattering and shivering; but it alone it saved me: it set me thinking. Strange I had not put my brain to work before! Since the wind was toward the entrance, I argued, there must be two openings to the cave; and instead of being on the remotest shore, as I had supposed, I was landed only on a turn in the lake. I remembered that I could not see all the cavern to the right, and concluded it must extend further in that direction. This gave me encouragement and resolution. I began to plan, and as I planned, took heart. One thing I was fairly certain of, that in the fore- noon the wind blew in at the mouth, and out in the afternoon. The morning of my first entrance, I had noticed its inward move- ment. Then, there were two openings. At daylight I would re- embark in the trough, and with the breeze drift back in search of an escape vent. Should I be successful, I could set the craft afloat, and, with the afternoon wind, perhaps, in time, it would be wafted to its old moorings, thus leading Burley to the conclusion that I had been drowned, and put him off his guard. There was yet one apprehension, that this other opening, should I find it, would also be watched; but under the apprehension that is was unknown, I set about to keep myself alive till morning. Food would give warmth to my body, and I felt along the trough, and after having found the wallet, sat on the wet earth — ; A WEEK IN A BOX CANYON. 491 and made out a round meal. The dry crackers were especially palatable, for I was dripping with moisture. Then I began to explore a strip of solid ground to walk on for exercise. One hand on the wall, I worked my way in the darkness, feeling with each foot before I placed it, until, in I came to the water's one direction, edge. I same precautions, counted turned, and, maintaining the my steps to the rear, until again I reached land's end. By this means I found that the territory over which I was joint ruler with the night was thirty paces long, with a probable width of three. Leaving five on each end for security, I began to walk back and forth a distance of twenty steps, one hand constantly on the wall for guidance, and swinging the other vigorously to get my blood warmed up. "One, two, three — ," hour after hour, I trudged and turned, and I hope in the grave the ages will not seem half so long as those hours By this constant movement alone were to me. could I withstand the chill of my surroundings.Had I been able to fix my mind on some one thought, making it all-absorbing, the time might have passed more rapidly; but there was danger of losing my count and walking too far. Doggedly, I held to the routine, until, at last, a faint gleam struck the cave, making the lake and the encircling rock visible. As the light increased, I heard voices, and once more three men peered across the water. To their ears came no plea for help, however long they listened in the silence. (To be concluded in next number.) NEW LIFE. How sweetly blows the Resurrection horn Across the neadows, over the far hills! In the soul's garden a new sweetness stirs, And the heart fills, And in and out the mind flow the soft airs. Arise, my heart, and sing, this Springtime morn In the year's resurrection do thy part, Arise, my heart! — Selected.