Beyond this mighty
blue chasm lay a mountain of purest gold, banded with white and
silhouetted against a sky of palest azure. An eagle dipped lazily
across the heavens.
When he had gazed his fill, Enoch put his pipe in his pocket, unrolled
the diary and, balancing it oh his knee, began to write:
"Oh, Diana, no wonder you are lovely! No wonder you are serene and
pure and reverent!
'And her's shall be the breathing balm
And her's the silence and the calm'--
"You remember how it goes, Diana.
"I heard Curly curse yesterday. A thousand echoes sent his words back
to him and he looked at the glory of the canyon walls and was ashamed.
I saw shame in his eyes.
"It was not cowardice that drove me away for this interval, Diana.
Never believe that of me! I was afraid, yes, but of myself, not of the
newspapers. If I had stayed on the train, I would have returned at
once to Washington and have shot the reporter who wrote the stuff.
Perhaps I shall do it yet. But if I do, it will be after the Canyon
and I have come to agreement on the subject. I am very sure I shall
shoot Brown. Some one should have done it, long ago.
"I wonder what you are doing this afternoon. Somewhere between a
hundred and a hundred and fifty miles we are from Bright Angel, Mack
says, via the river.
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