Part 21 (1/2)

”Can't we escape it?”

”Not without going hungry.”

”I think Mr. and Mrs. Burton are going to escape it.”

”What makes you think that?”

”This,” said Gertrude, pointing to a well-filled lunch-basket under the seat.

”Praised be Allah!” Brockway exclaimed, fervently. ”You can trust Burton to look out for the small personal comforts. And he never so much as hinted at this when I was grumbling about the dinner awhile ago. I've a mind to punish him.”

”How?”

”By confiscating the basket. We could run away by ourselves and have a quiet little picnic dinner while they wrestle with the mob.”

But Gertrude demurred. ”That would be too callously villanous,” she objected. ”Can't we divide with them?”

”And go away by ourselves with the spoils?”

”Yes, if you like.”

”I do like. I know a place, and the way to get there. Are you good for a climb?”

Brockway possessed himself of the basket, spread a newspaper on the opposite seat, and began to make a very fair and equitable division of the eatables.

”I'm good for anything,” she said; then she pulled off her gloves and helped him divide the luncheon.

When the train stopped at Graymont, Burton went forward to get the luncheon. The coach was empty when he reached it, and the looted basket bore witness to the designs of the two young people. The general agent wagged his head dubiously, and when he had seen the last of the Tadmorians securely wedged into his place at the crowded table in the hotel dining-room, he failed not to lay the burden of gloomy prophecy once more upon the shoulders of the small person who, as he more than half suspected, was responsible for Brockway's presence.

By that time the subjects of the prophecy were well out of sight and hearing in the narrow ravine in which the great canyon has its beginnings. They walked the ties to the end of the track, and beyond that point picked their way over the rough ground until they came to a trail leading up the northern acclivity. Here Brockway took Gertrude's arm and together they began the ascent.

”Don't forget what I told you”, he cautioned; ”you are not to look back until I give the word.”

”Should I turn into a pillar of salt if I did?” she asked.

”Possibly.”

”Then I'll not do it; it would be rather awkward for both of us.”

A hundred feet or more above the level of the railway track they came to a small plateau, and in the midst of it, Brockway stopped suddenly and spun her around with her face to the southward. No uninspired pen may set down in unmalleable phrase a description of what she saw; nor can any tide-gauge of language, spoken or written, measure the great wave of emotion which swept over her, choking the flood-gates of expression.

From the moment the ascending train enters the canyon at Golden until it pauses opposite the hotel at Graymont, the scenery is rugged and inspiring, but it belittles itself by its very nearness. But from the plateau where they were standing, the vista expands as if by magic. The mighty mountain at whose foot the train pauses becomes but a foothill, and just beyond it, in indescribable grandeur and majesty, rises the huge, snow-clad bulk of Gray's Peak, stupendous, awe-inspiring, dazzling the eye with its unspotted mantle of s.h.i.+mmering white, and slaying the sense of proportion with its immeasurable vastness.

Gertrude caught her breath, and Brockway stood uncovered beside her, silent and watchful. When her eyes began to fill with tears, he broke the spell.

”Forgive me,” he said, quickly; ”it was almost cruel not to prepare you, but I wanted to see if it would appeal to you as it does to me.”

”It is unspeakable,” she said, softly. ”Shall we stop here?”

”No.” He took her arm again and together they climbed higher on the mountain-side; silently, as befitted time and place, but each with a heartful of thoughts too large for speech.