The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of ColoradoBrady, Cyrus Townsend
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The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado
Brady, Cyrus Townsend
Colorado -- Fiction; Love stories; Western stories
The declivity to the river on the upper side was comparatively easy and
Enid Maitland went slowly and thoughtfully down to it until she reached
the young torrent. She got her tackle ready, but did no casting as she
made her way slowly up the ever narrowing, ever rising cañon. She was
charmed and thrilled by the wild beauty of the way, the spell of the
mountains was deep upon her. Thoughtfully she wandered on until,
presently she came to another little amphitheater like that where the
camp was pitched, only smaller. Strange to say the brook, or river, here
broadened into a little pool perhaps twenty feet across; a turn had
thrown a full force of water against the huge boulder wall and in ages
of effort a giant cup had been hollowed out of the native rock. The pool
was perhaps four or five feet deep, the rocky bottom worn smooth, the
clearing was upon the opposite side and the banks were heavily wooded
beyond the spur of the rock which formed the back of the pool. She could
see the trout in it. She made ready to try her fortune, but before she
did so an idea came to her--daring, unconventional, extraordinary, begot
of innocence and inexperience.
The water of course was very cold, but she had been accustomed all her
life to taking a bath at the natural temperature of the water at
whatever season. She knew that the only people in that wilderness were
the members of her own party; three of them were at the camp below, the
others were ascending a mountain miles away. The cañon was deep sunk,
and she satisfied herself by careful observation that the pool was not
overlooked by any elevations far or near.
Her ablutions in common with those of the rest of the campers had been
by piecemeal of necessity. Here was an opportunity for a plunge in a
natural bath tub. She was as certain that she would be under no
observation as if she were in the privacy of her own chamber. Here again
impulse determined the end. In spite of her assurance there was some
little apprehension in the glance that she cast about her, but it soon
vanished. There was no one. She was absolutely alone. The pool and the
chance of the plunge had brought her down to earth again; the thought of
the enlivening exhilaration of the pure cold water dashing against her
own sweet warm young body changed the current of her thoughts--the
anticipation of it rather.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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