--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Barnes, Claude T. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 22 number: 3 published: 1919-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Barnes, Claude T., “At the Top of the Canyon—II,” *Improvement Era* 22, no. 3 (January 1919): 223–233." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2203unse 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: improvementera2203unse start_page: 223 end_page: 233 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2203unse publication_year: 1919 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 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # At the Top of the Canyon—II At the Top of the Canyon By Claude T. Barnes Part II When Stuart reached an eminence some distance up the canyon he checked the reins and looking down through the trees saw his late acquaintance walking very slowly towards the forks. He quickly unbuckled the glasses and with their great aid could see that she was holding her head down as if meditating. At last she stopped and looked for a long time in his direction evidently not discerning him, and then slowly turned and walked on. Once there appeared, where the trail rounded an aspen grove two or three hundred yards below her, three men and two women; and Stuart fairly pushed his eyes into the glasses as he sought to ascertain which could be "Jack." For a quarter of an hour he waited without again seeing anyone; and then at last three couples strolled around the aspens on their way down. The sight pierced him as an ar- row; and he realized all at once that something tremendously important and serious had come into his life. He rode upward toward the cabin. A chipmunk, darting across the trail, chattered gleefully from a nearby balsam fir; and swinging branches caused a great horned owl to skim si- lently away before him ; but nothing diverted his eyes from his horse's dark mane. "Ches, old boy, I'll have to confess it," he said, as he patted the animal's shoulder affectionately, "I've sure lost something. Please won't you tell me what to do?" The sorrel, whom he had named "Chestnut," merely turned one ear back and held it there until his master ceased speaking. "Think it over, will you, eh? Well, all right; but I tell you my life has entered a new road today," said Stuart, as he continued to pet his favorite. He rode on in silence for a time, and then suddenly, as if the idea had just come to him, he said: "Say, Ches, she may be married." More twisting of chestnut ears was all the answer he got, so he relapsed into silence again. As he neared the little meadow that stretched below his mountain home, however, he scanned the hills closely for a fuchsia. A pair of golden-mantled mar- mots in some brush close by whistled loudly at his intrusion, and 224 IMPROVEMENT ERA a muskrat plunged with as much noise as a horse into the calm surface of a water-cressed spring. Nowhere, however, could he see a fuchsia; and finally he led the sorrel up the hillside, through the pines to the cabin. As the sun sank that evening it transformed the soft opal and blue of the western horizon into grenadine red and bitter sweet orange, and filled the cumulus clouds that guarded the drowsy sky with hues of unfathomable purple and lead gray. Stuart sat at his cabin door, watching the growing shadows of moonlight and the winking first lights of the city, thinking of the beautiful girl who had so deeply impressed him that now he was sorely troubled. He surmised that she must have had a college education and that her parents were well-to-do; again he pictured her as a young school teacher interested in flowers; and then that she might be married. At any rate she had shown no special interest in him. As the thought occurred to him, he uttered half seriously, "hinc illce lachrimce" and went indoors. For an hour or more he worked assiduously at his mono- graph of the genus Peromyscus, carefully elaborating his rough field sketch of a recently discovered nest of one of these interest- ing mice; but all efforts to forget "her" were unavailing. Then he thought that he, who had always found his chief solace in books and nature, should be strong enough to resist sentimental- ity— he, who had always weighed things in the unfeeling cruci- ble of science. Then mockery suddenly came from the slopes: "At twilight time when the lights are lit, Father Coyote conies to sit At the chaparral's edge, on the mountain side — Comes to listen and deride." He felt that even beloved nature was laughing at him; and as the garrulous jargon of the animal echoed into a thou- sand voices, he paused to hear: "His reckless caroling, shrill and clear — - His terse and swift and valorous troll, Ribald, rollicking, scornful, droll, As one might sing in coyotedom: 'Ye ho ho and a bottle of rum'!" Then at last, as he lay still, he heard in the solemn sough of the majestic pines the sweet whispering and echoes of "her" voice. At sunrise the search for a fuchsia began. Lonesome though the life of the forest ranger undoubtedly is, to one unaccustomed to it, its very isolation affords excellent opportunity for observa- tion and study to him who is so inclined; and here perhaps was the secret of Stuart's being there. Despite the fact that the work was hard and the rides long, there always seemed to be THE TOP OF THE CANYON 225 time to peep into a junco's nest or examine with the glass a striking piece of mineralized rock. This day it was the fuchsia. He reached the ridge after an arduous climb, flushing a covey of dusky grouse from a mighty solitary pine near the top; and then followed a bear-trail through groves of service berries until he came to the head of Bear Canyon. He rode down its tortuous trails for a mile or more seeing thousands of beautiful flowers. Sweet-scented sulphur flowers adorned the slopes, while the alpine hollows were resplendent with a glorious array of color. White columbines, blue larkspurs, red Indian paint brushes, yellow cut-leaved balsam roots, American columbos of turquoise hues, scarlet gilias, delicate clarkias, wild geraniums and bright yellow goose tansies painted the scene. Once he came upon a rare species of golden rod, which had only recently been named for an acquaintance; and was pleased thus to be able to extend its range; but was sorely disappointed at finding no fuchsia. As he passed under a shaded ledge, cooled with lingering snow, he noticed that peculiar plant called "Greenland lousewort" growing in its seepage. Its red ele- phant's trunk protruded from a mass of flowers; and he mar- valed at its choice of habitat. In one heavily shaded place beneath the pines he discov- ered a corpse plant, a colorless, waxy, cold, clammy, leafless parasite devoid of green, bearing oblong-shaped bell flowers of the sickening whiteness of the dead. It filled him with a pe- culiar melancholy, even to look at it. On his way back he was delighted to catch a glimpse of two mule-deer fawns following their mother; their once conspicuous spots were now quite dim. He reached the cabin long after sundown, tired and unhappy. For three days he searched in vain, but on the fourth he was rewarded by finding several fine specimens of the precious fuchsias far over in Wilson canyon, many miles away. Care- fully he dug up several brilliant plants and took them unbroken to the cabin. Far into the night Stuart worked with the flowers. He took pieces of corrugated pasteboard, which he had long used for such a purpose, and pressed several of the beautiful plants between the boards into a neat bundle. The remaining fuchsias he hung up on the wall. The next morning as Stuart trudged through the forest, a piece of cerulean blue of heaven flushed from beside him and, chattering saucily, flitted over a gulch and was absorbed in the foliage of a distant fir. It was the long-crested jay, the hand- somest bird of the mountains. After a short pursuit he pro- cured it and admired its rich blue and turquoise plumage as he returned. He peeled off a strip of birch bark on his way. 226 IMPROVEMENT ERA For hours he worked, mounting the stately bird into the pose that its proud crest and elegant shape demanded, finally pegging its feet securely to a small pine limb. He then put it aside to dry and spent the afternoon riding through the forest. The next day it rained; and far into the night the great crags and peaks of the mountain were exposed by streaks of weird lightning, while deep thunder echoed and reverberated through the wild, dark chasms of the canyon. The pines of the forest squeaked and groaned as they rubbed each other in the wind and once a crash rent the air as a tall monarch fell prosptrate to the ground. It was an awful night to spend alone; but it did not trouble Stuart; and the morning was as crisp and clear as dew. Though Stuart had frequently searched the canyon below with the field glasses, he had seen no sign of the return of his friend; but now he felt somehow that the time had Come. After saddling "Ches" he took the bundle containing the pressed fuchsias, the birch bark and the mounted jay, and rode down the canyon to the spruce tree where he had said "good- bye." Well under the thick overhanging limbs of the evergreen, he placed the bundle of fuchsias and on top of it he stood the beautiful mounted blue jay. On the dry birch bark he carefully wrote the following: Precious flower of beauteous mold, Your cluster of hairy leaves unfold Along your slender stem, blossoms fair Of scarlet, spectrum and carmine rare, Adorning the sunny rocks with flame, Touching all the mountains with your fame. # * ♦ ■ ♦ ♦■ * You're a fuchsia of bright, red blood Drooping as if dripped from broken heart; How happy you must be to be led To her whose love for you will not part. He securely tied the bark about the bird's neck and giving a long look at the ensemble turned his horse again up the hill. Thereafter each day he scanned the canyon with the glasses; but seldom saw anyone and not the least sign of her. One day he took a ride down to the spruce trees to make sure; but was disappointed in finding the blue jay still mutely on guard and quite undisturbed. Each evening the purple and crimson of the western sky foimed earlier, and not only the nights but also the days were delightfully cool. Yellow and Audubon warblers sang no more in the pines; and as on deciduous trees the first tints of autumn began to appear their leaves were gradually becoming crisp preparatory to the final flutter back to the soil. THE TOP OF THE CANYON 227 Fires had kept Stuart very busy, but one day towards the last of September he again rode down to the spruce in spite of the fact that he had seen no one. To his great delight the fuchsias and bird were gone while suspended from a lower limb of the spruce was a little note tied with tough, dried grass. He hurredly untied the paper and read the following written in a neat feminine hand: Thank you for fuchsias, dear blue jay; And your turquoise feathers are fine. Promise you'll not forget what I say: A grouse for Christmas by the pine. Alice. So her name was "Alice!" Stuart's face lit with joy as he read. Surely she could not be married or she would not have signed so. Then as he reread the note he could not be sure that it was not written merely for fun. He read it again — "Christ- mas;" could that be an invitation? The more he studied it the more he concluded that it might mean nothing or it might mean all. Yet he had her answer and her name in her hand- writing; and he began to feel very happy, indeed. Perhaps she really intended to brave her way up the hills on Christmas; she had said she was a better climber than the rest. There was nothing to indicate when the note had been written; but he concluded that "Alice" had as before left her friends at the forks below and come to the spruce tree alone for had she not taken the time to answer with a verse ? Stuart wondered what "Jack" had thought of the fuchsias and the jay and whether he had agreeably carried the bundle home, and what explanation had Alice given. These and a hundred other queries entered his mind as he rode up the trail again. He left no answer, for it was quite evident that he would see no more of Alice until Christmas, if, indeed, then. Thereafter Stuart was happy as he rode the hills. The white-tailed deer that were fattening on acorns were' to him sweet companions; and he told his secret to a pet squirrel as if the little crumb-eater understood. At night in his cabin he sat for hours seeing pictures of Alice glow in the burning logs. He gathered wild candytuft and specimens of the strawberry, buttercup and many other plants, which he pressed for her. He watched the lower hillsides lighten into crimsons, carmines and browns; and saw great wedges of geese shimmer in the sunshine as they flew over the valley. Then one morning in November he awoke to find the pines laden with snow, which had come as a dream in the night time. Soon thereafter the white-tailed deer ceased their battles and assembled in happy families, a group of eight individuals taking up a stand in the quaking 228 IMPROVEMENT ERA aspens just below him in the canyon. Stuart loved their society and never disturbed them though he did think of venison for Christmas dinner. The summer birds had long since gone and now chickadees, cross-bills, pine grosbeaks, pine siskins, juncos, magpies and jags kept him company. Once by good luck he came upon that rare winter bird, the snowy owl, the first he had ever seen in the woods. He took it after a long tramp through the woods and then mounted it as a Christmas present for Alice. In spite of the dull foreboding that he would never see Alice again he could not resist the inclination to make every preparation for her coming on Christmas. How she should ever get there he seldom stopped to consider, but confidently believed that if she cared she would come. Day after day throughout December, the city in the valley was covered with a thick mantle of dark smoke; and Stuart wondered how Alice could live in such an atmosphere. Perhaps she had long since gone East to school or even home. How could he know; and the thought gave him pain. One morning as Stuart stepped out of the cabin door, he came suddenly upon a bear's footprints, which from their enor- mous size and the fact that the claws made little round holes in the snow several inches in front of the foot, he at once knew to have been made by a grizzly. A serious look went over his face, for he knew that the black bears had long since gone to sleep and that only a grizzly would wander about in the dead of winter. A grizzly anywhere anytime must not be taken lightly, which, also, from previous experience, Stuart knew. Going to the cabin he took up his new Winchester, which used a cartridge of the army size with, however, a terrible soft- pointed nose; and struck out on the hugh animal's spoor. It is astonishing how far a big grizzly can travel in a day. Several times Stuart came upon places where it had literally ploughed up ground a rod square with its mightly claws, all for a tiny mouse or sleeping rodent; but not once did he see the shaggy brute itself. A grizzly, however, like other animals, has its favorite neighborhood, and Stuart determined always to have his rifle close at hand during the remainder of the winter. Finally the snow grew deeper and Christmas was but a day or so off. Stuart procured without much difficulty a fine, young white-tailed buck and carefully dressed it; and then the day be- fore Christmas he shot half a dozen dusky grouse as they moped in the pines. He arranged the meagre furniture of the cabin as neatly as he could, but felt the need of something to indicate the approach of Christmas. He cut a handsome blue spruce about three feet high and nailed it into the corner of the cabin ; and then beneath the snow of a lower slope he found some trail- THE TOP OF THE CANYON 229 ing barberry. The leaves were delightfully fresh and of wonder- ful variegation. Most of them were dark green above and biscay green below; but others were of almost every shade and tint. One cluster was of a beautiful pansy purple; another rose-red washed with capucine orange; while many more varied from a spinach green to claret brown. With this striking array of color Stuart made several pleasing Christmas wreaths, one of which he nailed on the cabin door and the others he hung in- side. He marveled that people should import holly when this pretty barberry is always to be found in the Wasatch. Finally the arrangements were all complete and he rested in peace in the vain hope that a Santa Claus would appear on the morrow. Deep in his heart he felt certain that he would be disappointed, yet he took a delight in acting as if everything would turn out exactly as he had pictured it. Christmas morning in the canyon was clear and cold. Stuart was up early and long before any one might have been expected he was scanning the white trail below with his glasses. No sign of life appeared and he even mistook a porcupine in one of the aspens for a magpie's old nest until the lethargic animal moved, and knawed at fresh bark. While he was waiting and walking about the cabin yard, he noticed that the grizzly had some time during the night visited the place where he had put the refuse from the deer; and so fresh were the tracks that he concluded his coming forth had actually been the cause of its leaving. That it lurked about nearby, he did not doubt; but as he could not pursue grizzly this day he merely took the precaution of carrying his rifle. He slipped a few reloaded cartridges into the magazine as much for the purpose of signalling for Alice and her party as for any other, and waited. The sun rose high in the clear, blue canopy above him and towards noon was so warm that beads of water began to drip from the long icicles of the cabin roof. Stuart waited and waited, determined not to eat dinner unless Alice should come. It was a lovely day and he really believed that she might actually venture the trip. He longed for her more than he had thought it possible to long for anyone. Towards two o'clock in the afternoon Stuart fancied that he caught a glimpse of someone at the forks; and to be certain he walked down the trail about three hundred yards to a point where it passed through the willows close by the tall pines. He was about to put the field glasses to his eyes when a peculiar noise up the slope under the pines diverted his attention. He turned quickly and to his amazement saw the huge grizzly not over twenty yards away standing eight feet high and looking menacingly towards him. It was swinging its head from side to 230 IMPROVEMENT ERA side and opening and shutting its lips with a peculiar choppy noise, as if uncertain what to do for it had evidently been sur- prised by his quiet approach in the snow. Stuart slowly raised his gun and with truly admirable coolness took careful aim at the mighty brute's heart and fired. It was not sooner done than he realized his perilous position as any bear charges more readily and effectively downhill. One shot will not ordinarily stop a grizzly for so great is its tenacity that one has been known to swim a mile after having been shot actually through the heart. The ugly animal instantly bit at its breast where Stuart's bullet had entered and then furiously charged. As quickly as possible Stuart operated the lever of his gun and aiming this time above , the bear's gleaming teeth, pressed the trigger. A mere snap ! The reloaded cartridge was defective ! An ashy hor- ror swept over Stuart's face as the savage monster came right on only five yards away. With the rapidity of lightning he again worked the lever, and before the gun was to his shoulder fired point blank into the grizzly's neck. But too late; for at that instant it grabbed the gun with its awful jaws and with a sweep of its gruesome claws struck him to the ground as a man Mould a doll, tearing awful gashes on his left shoulder and down his left arm. The great animal rushed on and stood above him madly sinking its ghastly teeth into the stock of the gun. Stuart cowed beneath breathlessly watching the bloody foam spray from its ominous mouth; and all the incidents of his life seemed crowded into a second as he expected every instant to be thrust into eternity. A heavy front foot almost crushed him with its weight and he could not move. Suddenly the bear began to utter a sort of whining bawl and to bite and tear furiously with its jaws at the willows that overhung them and kept flipping in its face. This was a ray of hope for when a bear acts that way it is surely dying. It bit willows as thick as his wrist clear in two seemingly having forgotten him in the desperate agony of its death; and such frantic, awful power he thought no jaws could possess. Suddenly the terrible blow, the oppress- ive weight and the agony of suspense became more than he could endure and with a gasp for breath his mind sank into oblivion. Stuart had not been mistaken in his glimpse down the canyon for Alice, Jack and four other companions were actually above the forks wending their way up the trail. Alice was the inspiration of the journey and by one inducement or another had prevailed upon her friends to try this wintry adventure. Jack alone had demurred for he sensed in the neatly pressed fuchsias a meaning deeper than Alice disclosed. He was quite disagreable THE TOP OF THE CANYON 231 as they prodded up the snow, constantly suggesting difficulties and urging his friends to return. Alice's warm enthusiasm, how- ever, won the day and there they were. As they passed the balsam tree they could plainly see the thick blue smoke winding up through the pines from the ranger's cabin; and nothing would satisfy Alice but to press onward to- wards it. Suddenly the canyon walls echoed with the loud report of Stuart's gun, then again ; and then silence. At last the awful dy- ing bawl of the grizzly came down to them through the clear mountain air. They needed no further urging for though they could not understand the sounds they knew the result would be interesting if not tragic. Alice led them all at an arduous pace which she did not slacken when the portentous bawl of the bear subsided. Finally they reached the upper flat and the pines. As they passed the bend Alice shrieked for there before her in the trail was a man flat on his back with a huge grizzly lying across one of his legs. The party stopped in horror; but gradually got courage as the bear did not move, and slowly approached. Finally when they got a glimpse of the animal's head they observed that its mouth was full of bloody willows but that it was apparently dead. Alice uttered a new exclamation of concern as she recognized Stuart; and without further precaution rushed to him and lifted his head into her lap. The bear was dead! A dozen or more willows were torn up by the roots and it was awful to behold the terrible power of its jaws, even in death filled with foam-smeared branches! The snow was scarlet with blood. With considerable effort Albert Fuller and Joe Eynon pulled Stuart's leg from under the lubbering body but Jack seemed paralyzed with Alice's actions, for she was rubbing Stuart's fore- head with snow and repeating over and over: "Oh, he's not dead" and in every way expressing the sweetest solicitude as if oblivious to the presence of her companions. Finally Stuart opened his eyes and a look of supreme happiness went over hi3 face as he saw Alice. Stuart's left arm was terribly lacerated and his left leg seri- ously sprained if not broken. At Alice's command the boys carried him up to the cabin and placed him on the bed. He was bleeding profusely. Despite Stuart's injury they all quickly noted the little Christmas tree, the barberry wreaths, the many books, the fuchsias on the wall, the venison and the grouse and the beautiful mounted snowy owl. One by one they read the little card: "Merry Christmas to A. from S." on the owl; and when Stuart was for the moment comfortable, Alice herself stepped over and read it, blushing deeply but not saying a word. It was quite evident that Stuart's injuries needed medical 232 IMPROVEMENT ERA attention at once for infection frequently results from a bear's claws. Joe and Albert quickly cut two thin pines and tied a heavy quilt on them forming a stretcher. Alice and Mary Rose- vear tenderly wrapped Stuart's arm and then the cavalcade slowly proceeded down the canyon. About a mile below the forks they came to Alice's automo- bile, which the party had been able to drive that far on their way up. Stuart, who was in great pain, nevertheless suggested that the grizzly's pelt would make a beautiful rug and that the grouse and venison ought to be brought down. Alice, therefore, asked Albert and Joe to go back up the canyon to skin the bear, saying that she would send Jack back with the car for them. Stuart thanked Alice and her friends for their kindness to h'?m assuring them that he would be ever thankful if they would merely take him to the hospital. Alice said nothing, however, except to tell Jack to drive home. He and Alta Barker sat in the front seat while Mary and Alice made Stuart as comfortable a« possible behind. In less than an hour they drove into the yard of Alice's fine, big home; and her father, a clean cut, gray-haired business man, and her kindly mother assisted in removing Stuart into the house. He was carried to a spacious bedroom on the second floor, his quick eyes taking in the luxurious nature of his sur- roundings. Within a quarter of an hour the doctor came, and with him a private nurse. The physician dressed Stuart's wounds and explained that while his leg was not broken it was badly sprained; but he believed that within a week's time Stuart would be able to get up again. An hour afterward, when the doctor, Mary and Alta had gone, and the nurse had left Stuart comfortable, he was appar- ently sleeping. Alice stole quietly into the room and for a mo- ment stood admiring the handsome head on the pillow. Her heart fluttered as she felt Stuart's very presence draw her to him as a magnet. Suddenly she noticed his coat, which still lay over a chair where the doctor had placed it; and the inside pocket disclosed a letter. She could not resist the inclination to draw the envelope forth and find out the name of the man who seemed already to possess her happiness. It was evidently merely a business letter but the envelope disclosed a world of information. It was addressed to: "Dr. Stuart K. Jefford" and the upper left hand corner con- tained the words: "Biological Survey, Washington, D. C." Alice was not surprised; in fact she had somewhat ex- pected it. Quickly she surmised: "Doctor of Science— official at Washington — out West on special research — and oh! probably married!" THE TOP OF THE CANYON 233 The injured man groaned slightly with pain. Alice quickly replaced the envelope and walked to his side. Stuart opened his eyes; and smiled happily as he saw her sitting there alone. "Can I do anything, Mr. Jefford?" she said quietly. "You know me, then. No thank you; only my heart is full of gratitude for what you have done. I am very sorry to have caused you all this trouble." "It isn't any trouble, and then it was so sweet of you to get me a fuchsia,'* she replied. "And I thought you would never come for it;" he sighed as he lifted his hand to his forehead and let it drop on the covers again. It fell against hers; and she made no effort to remove it. Their faces both flushed slightly and as they looked into each other's eyes a world of meaning was at once conveyed. Stuart slowly pressed his fingers about her hand, and finding her un- resisting, without saying a word gradually pulled her lovely head towards him. "Tell me, tell me honestly, won't you please," he whispered. "Is this Jack's Christmas or mine?" "It's yours, Stuart," she responded as she yielded her lips to his in a long kiss that told its own story. The End. The Loss, the Cross, the Pain, the Tear 'Tis not in vain we suffer so; Life's stream is purified; The torrents smoothly glide below, That loathe the mountain-side. And strength is born 'mid throes of pain ; Eyes clearly see that weep; The heart bowed down will rise again; We sow before we reap. So God's decrees, one endless round, We'll find are wisest, best; No stitches dropped, no threads unwound, The woof withstands the test. Lydia D. Alder.