Arizona -- Fiction; Grand Canyon (Ariz.) -- Fiction; Western stories
"I always wanted to have a boat to fix up," said Jonas. "When I was a
kid my folks had an old flat-bottom tub, but I never earned enough for
a can of paint. Will you folks be home by twelve for dinner?"
There was a chorus of assent as the crew scattered to its several
tasks. Milton and Enoch started at once up the edge of the brook,
hoping that the ascent might be made more easily thus. But the
crevice, out of which the little stream found its way to the Colorado,
narrowed rapidly to the point where it became impossible for the two
men to work their way into it. They were obliged, after a half hour's
struggle, to return to the camp and start again.
A very steep slope of bright orange sand led from the shore to a
scarcely less oblique terrace of sharp broken rock. There were several
hundred feet of the sand and, as it was dry and loose, it caused a
constant slipping and falling that consumed both time and strength.
The rocky terrace was far easier to manage, and they covered that
rapidly, although Enoch had a nasty fall, cutting his knee. They were
brought to pause, however, when the broken rock gave way to a sheer
hard wall, which offered neither crack nor projection for hand or foot
hold.
Milton led the way carefully along its foot for a quarter of a mile
until they reached a fissure wide enough for them to enter. The walls
of this were crossed by transverse cracks. By utilizing these, now
pulling, now boosting each other, they finally emerged on a flat,
smooth tableland, of which fissures had made a complete island. At the
southern end of the island rose an abrupt black peak.
"If we can get to the top of that," said Milton, "it ought to bring us
to the general desert level. Is your knee bothering you, Judge?"
"Not enough to stop the parade," replied Enoch. "How high do you think
that peak is, Milton?"
"Not less than a thousand feet, I would guess. I bet it's as easy to
climb as a greased pole, too."
The pinnacle, when they reached it, appeared very little less difficult
than Milton had guessed it would be. The north side offered no hope
whatever. It rose smooth and perpendicular toward the heavens. But
the south side was rough and though a yawning fissure at its base added
five hundred feet to its southern height they determined to try their
fortunes here. Ledges and jutting rocks, cracks and depressions
finally made the ascent possible. The top, when they achieved it, was
not twenty feet in diameter. They dropped on it, panting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account