He clutched it. A great gust of
wind came up from the Canyon, clearing the view of snow for the moment,
and Nucky saw down, down for a mile to the black ribbon of the Colorado
below.
"I can't stand it!" he muttered. "I can't stand it!" and turning, he
bolted for the hotel. He stopped before the log fire in the lobby. A
little group of men and women were sitting before the blaze, reading or
chatting. One of the women looked up at the boy and smiled. It seemed
impossible to Nucky that human beings could be sitting so calmly, doing
quite ordinary things, with that horror lying just a few feet away.
For perhaps five minutes he struggled with his sense of panic, then he
went slowly out and forced himself to the railing again.
While he had been indoors, it had ceased to storm and the view lay
clear and clean before him. Although there was a foot of level snow on
the rim, so vast were the ledges and benches below that the drifts
served only as high lights for their crimson and black and orange.
Just beneath Nucky were tree tops, heavy laden with white. Far, far
below were tiny shrubs that the porter said were trees and below
these,--orderly strips of brilliant colors and still below, and
below--! Nucky moistened his dry lips and once more bolted to the
hotel.
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