iled adequately and truly to paint mountains, let alone the desert
space. The toiling millions of the crowded cities were ignorant of this
terrible beauty and sublimity. Would it have helped them to see? But
just to breathe that untainted air, just to see once the boundless open
of colored sand and rock--to realize what the freedom of eagles meant
would not that have helped anyone?

And with the thought there came to Carley's quickened and struggling
mind a conception of freedom. She had not yet watched eagles, but she
now gazed out into their domain. What then must be the effect of such
environment on people whom it encompassed? The idea stunned Carley.
Would such people grow in proportion to the nature with which they
were in conflict? Hereditary influence could not be comparable to such
environment in the shaping of character.

"Shore I could stand here all day," said Flo. "But it's beginning to
cloud over and this high wind is cold. So we'd better go, Carley."

"I don't know what I am, but it's not cold," replied Carley.

"Wal, Miss Carley, I reckon you'll have to come again an' again before
you get a comfortable feelin' here," said Stanton.

It surprised Carley to see that this young Westerner had hit upon
the truth. He understood her. Indeed she was uncomfortable. She was
oppressed, vaguely unhappy. But why? The thing there--the infinitude of
open sand and rock--was beautiful, wonderful, even glorious. She looked
again.

Steep black-cindered slope, with its soft gray patches of grass, sheered
down and down, and out in rolling slope to merge upon a cedar-dotted
level. Nothing moved below, but a red-tailed hawk sailed across her
vision. How still--how gray the desert floor as it reached away, losing
its black dots, and gaining bronze spots of stone! By plain and prairie
it fell away, each inch of gray in her sight magnifying into its
league-long roll. On and on, and down across dark lines that were
steppes, and at last blocked and changed by the meandering green thread
which was the verdure of a desert river. Beyond stretched the white
sand, where whirlwinds of dust sent aloft their funnel-shaped spouts;
and it led up to the horizon-wide ribs and ridges of red and walls of
yellow and mountains of black, to the dim mound of purple so ethereal
and mystic against the deep-blue cloud-curtained band of sky.

And on the moment the sun was obscured and that world of colorful flame
went out, as if a blaze had died.