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 Toronto : 
 The Westminster Company 
 UM1T£0. 
 

 259527 
 
 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, 
 in the year one thousand eight hundred and nnieiye.ght, 
 by Tub Westminster Comi-any, at the Department of 
 AKrit^ulture. 
 
 J 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 anacia, 
 •eight, 
 lent of 
 
 I'ew lives are lived altogether tiiKXi sunlit 
 uplaiiils ; most have to dipilown into valleys ; 
 Init to some there comet a sudden cleaving, 
 and there yawtis forever after the raj^jjed li]»s 
 of a disfij^uriuK canyon. That is no lovely 
 thinj;, hut hlack ami hitter ; and many a life 
 has come lo its ending there in those black 
 ilepths. Rut to many others the canyon is 
 an episode, and the life j^'oes on richer, fuller, 
 sweeter than before. How this may be is 
 the secret the story of Gwen's Canyon holds. 
 
 Gwen needs little introduction. I'or four- 
 teen years she lived with her father, the 
 " Old Timer," as all called him, remote from 
 the j^reat world, untJiuKht in its ways, mi- 
 spoiied by its maxims. She had a dim mem- 
 ory of her mother's face, but no other white 
 woman did she see durinjf all those years ; 
 while as for education, this she had from old 
 Ponka, her halfbreed nurse, and from the 
 Indians of the neighborinjr Hlackfoot reserve. 
 It was from them she learned the ways of all 
 the beasts that haunt the coulees from the 
 timber wolf to the jack-rabbit. These were 
 her only connades, till she bej,'an to ride after 
 the cattle with her father, when she fell in 
 with Rill and Hi, the cowboys from the 
 Ashley Ranche. Rut Bill and Hi couM never 
 get beyond an adoring awe that kept them 
 at too great a distance for comradeship. She 
 had no friend till there came that young 
 Ivnglish free-lance rancher who, partly for 
 his lordly ancestry, but more for his lordly 
 ways, was called "the Duke." It was he 
 who taught her the Queen's English and 
 manners, and many things beside, and to 
 him she gave a child's passionate love and 
 trust. 
 
lUit next to her fatlit-r and tlio Duke PfWiMi 
 lovt'«l the hills whore slie lived all <lay lon^. 
 ntnl to her they were indeed as a niirttirinK 
 mother. No man of the I'lMMhilU roiiiitry 
 ever jjels i|uile away fn»m them. He may, 
 when on h visit, fnrj^et them for a time nmid 
 the delights uf his soft, sweet ICnKlixh home, 
 or in the ])rc»ence of the pnrple glory of the 
 sloping moors of Scotland's heather ; but the 
 day comes when something in the sunlight, 
 or in the sweep of the wind, reminds him of 
 how the sunlight and the winds bathe and 
 sweep »he velvet-grey round-topped hills. 
 That night he will see and feel the glory of 
 them in his dreams, and before breakfast he 
 will begin to pack his trunk. The Foothills 
 were no small part of Gwen ; only those who 
 realize how great that part was can under- 
 stand the passionate jirote.st of her whole 
 soul and the agony of despair that gatliered 
 about her when she found herself snatched 
 for ever from all that i>pen, free, beautiful 
 life. 
 
 But were it not that before that black 
 day she had come to know the Pilot and his 
 (lospel story, then no one would dare to tell 
 and none could bear to hear the story of 
 Owen's Canyon. It is t)nly for canyon 
 people. 
 
 C.W.G. 
 
 Winnijieg. 
 
t 
 
 ■J 
 
 (iwcn'vS CanN;on 
 
 0WI*N \v;is iiii<li)ul»l<'<lly Willi .in«l, 
 ;is lln' Sky Pilot siiid, williil 
 .iinl wi<kt;d. ICvi-n lironcho 
 iiill and Hi Ktiidal, the tow- 
 boys from the Ashley Ranche, 
 would say so, without, of course, abating 
 one jot of tlieir admiration for her. Kor 
 fourteen years she had lived chiefly with 
 wild things. The cattle on the range, 
 wild as deer, the coyotes, the jack- 
 rabbits and the timber wolves were her 
 mates and her instructors. Krom these 
 she learned her wild ways. 'I'he prairie 
 of the Foothill country was her home. 
 She loved it and all things that moved 
 upon it, with passionate love, the only 
 kind she knew. ,\nd all summer long 
 she spent her days riding up and down 
 the range alone rr with her father, or with 
 Joe, or, besl k. all, with " the Duke."' 
 her h'"-o and her friend. So she grew up 
 strong, wholesome and self-reliant, fear- 
 ing nothing alive, and as untamed as a 
 yea.ling range « olt. 
 
 She was not l)eautiful. The winds and 
 sun had left her no complexion to speak 
 of, but the glory of her red hair, gold-red, 
 with purple sheen, nothing could tarnish. 
 Her eyes, too, dee]) blue with rims itf 
 grey that flashed with the glint of steel, 
 or shone with melting light as of the stars, 
 according to her mood : those Irish, 
 warm, deep e\es of hers were worth a 
 man's looking at. 
 
 Of course, all spoiled her. l*onka 
 and her son Joe grovelled in abjectest 
 adoration, while her father and all whf) 
 came within touch of her simjily did her 
 will. Even the Duke, who loved her 
 better than anything else, yielded lazy, 
 admiring homage to his " Little Princess," 
 as he called her, and certainly when she 
 stood up straight with her proud little 
 gold-crowned head thrown back, flash- 
 ing forth wrath or issuing imperious com- 
 
 7 
 
yi 
 
 mands, she looked a princess, all of 
 her. 
 
 It was a great day and a good day for 
 her when she fished the Sky Pilot, as the 
 missionary was called, out of the Swan 
 and brought him home, and the night of 
 Gwen's first " prayers," when she heard 
 for the first time the story of the shep- 
 herds and the angels and the Babe, was 
 the best of all her nights up to that time, 
 and all through the winter, under the 
 Pilot's guidance, she, with her father, the 
 Old Timer, listening near, went over and 
 over the story of the Man of Nazareth so 
 old now to many, but ever becoming new, 
 till a whole new world of mysterious Pow- 
 ers and Presences lay open to her imagin- 
 ation, and became the home of great 
 realities. She was rich in imai^ination, 
 and when the Pilot read Bunyan's im- 
 mortal poem, her mother's old Pilgrim's 
 Progress, she moved and lived beside the 
 hero of that tale, backing him up in his 
 fights and consumed with anxiety over 
 his many impending perils, till she had 
 him safely across the river and de- 
 livered into the charge of the shining 
 ones. 
 
 The Pilot himself, too, was a new and 
 wholesome experience. He was the first 
 thing she had yet encountered that refused 
 submission and the first human being that 
 had failed to fall down and worship. 
 There was something in him that would 
 not always yield, and, indeed, her pride 
 and her imperious tempers he met with 
 surprise and even with a pity that verged 
 toward contempt. With this she was not 
 well pleased, and not infrequently she 
 broke forth upon him. One of these 
 outbursts is stamped upon my mind not 
 only because of its unusual violence, but 
 chiefly because of its following conse- 
 quences. The original cause of her rage 
 was some misdeed of the unfortunate Joe, 
 but when I came upon the scene it was 
 the Pilot who was occupying her attention. 
 
 8 
 
w 
 
 ^- 
 
 The expression of surprise and pity on 
 his face appeared to stir her up, 
 
 '* How dare you look at me like that ? " 
 she cried. 
 
 " How very extraordinary that you 
 t'lui't keep hold of yourself better," he 
 answered. 
 
 " I can !" she stamped, " and I shall do 
 as I like !" 
 
 " It is a great pity," he said with pro- 
 voking calm, " and besides it is weak and 
 silly." His words were unfortunate. 
 
 " Weak !" she ga.sped when her breath 
 came back to her. " Weak !" 
 
 "Yes," he said, "very weak and child- 
 ish." 
 
 Then she could have cheerfully put 
 him to a slow and cruel death. When 
 she had recovered a little she cried ve- 
 hemently: 
 
 " I'm not weak ! I'm strong ! I'm 
 stronger than you are ! I'm as strong as 
 — as — a man !" 
 
 I do not suppose she meant the insin- 
 uation ; at any rate the Pilot ignored it 
 and went on. 
 
 " You're not strong enough to keep 
 your temper down." And then as she had 
 no leply ready, he went on, " And really, 
 Ciwen, it is not right. You must not go 
 on in this way." 
 
 Again his words were unfortunate. 
 
 " Must not !" she cried, adding an inch 
 to her height, " Who says so ?" 
 
 " God !" was the simple, short answer. 
 
 She was greatly taken aback, and gave 
 a quick glance over her shoulder as if to 
 see Him, who would dare to say must 
 not to her ; but, recovering, she answered 
 sullenly : 
 
 " I don't care !" 
 
 "Don't care for God?" The Pilot's 
 voice was quiet and solemn, but some- 
 thing in his manner angered her and she 
 blazed forth again : 
 
 " I don't care for anyone and I shall 
 do as I like." 
 
I( ! 
 
 ■;/ 
 
 The Pilot looked at her sadly for a 
 moment, and then said slowly : 
 
 " Some day, Gwen, you will not be able 
 to do as you like." 
 
 I remember well the settled defiance 
 in her tone and manner as she took a 
 step nearer him and answered in a voice 
 trembling with passion : 
 
 " Listen ! I have always done as I 
 like, and I shall do as I like till I die !" 
 And she rushed forth from the house and 
 down toward the canyon, her refuge from 
 all disturbing things and chiefly from her- 
 self. 
 
 I could not shake off the impression 
 her words made upon me. " Pretty di- 
 rect, that," I said to the Pilot as we rode 
 away. " The declaration may be philo- 
 sophically correct, but it rings uncom- 
 monly like a challenge to the Almighty. 
 Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak." 
 
 But the Pilot only said in a wounded 
 tone, " Don't ! How can you ?" 
 
 Within a week her challenge was ac- 
 cepted, and how fiercely and how gal- 
 lantly did she struggle to make it good ! 
 
 It was the Duke that brought me the 
 news, and as he told me the story his gay, 
 careless self-command for once was gone. 
 For in the gloom of the canyon where he 
 overtook me I could see his face gleaming 
 out ghastly white, and even his iron nerve 
 could not keep the tremor from his voice. 
 
 " I've just sent up the Doctor,' was his 
 answer to my greeting. " I looked for 
 you last night, couldn't find you, and so 
 rode off to the Fort." 
 
 " What's up ?" I said with fear in my 
 heart, for no light thing moved the Duke. 
 
 " Haven't you heard ? It's Gwen," he 
 said, and the next minute or two he gave 
 to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of 
 unexpected plunges. When Jingo was 
 brought down the Duke was master of 
 himself, and told his tale with careful self- 
 control. 
 
 Gwen, on her father's buckskin broncho 
 
 iq 
 
 pis 
 
had gone with the Duke to the big plain 
 above the cut-bank where Joe was herd- 
 ing the cattle. The day was hot and a 
 storm was in the air. They found Joe 
 riding up and down singing to keep the 
 cattle quiet, but having a hard time to 
 hold the bunch from breaking. While the 
 Duke was riding around the far side of 
 the bunch, a cry from Gwen arrested his 
 attention. Joe was in trouble. His 
 horse, a half-broken cayuse, had stumbled 
 into a badger-hole and had bolted, leaving 
 Joe to the mercy of the cattle. At once 
 they began to sniff suspiciously at this 
 phenomenon, a man on foot, and to fol- 
 low cautiously on his track. Joe kept his 
 head and walked slowly out, till all at 
 once a young cow began to bawl and to 
 paw the ground. In a minute, one and 
 then another of the cattle began to toss 
 their heads and bunch and bellow till the 
 whole herd of two hundred were after Joe. 
 Then Joe lost his head and ran. Im- 
 mediately the whole herd broke into a 
 thundering gallop with heads and tails 
 aloft and horns rattling like the loading 
 of a regiment of rifles. 
 
 "Two more minutes," said the Duke, 
 " would have done for Joe, for I could 
 never have reached him, but in spite of 
 my most frantic warnings and signallings, 
 right into the face of that mad, bellowing, 
 thundering mass of steers rode that little 
 girl. Nerve ! I have some myself, but 
 I couldn't have done it. She swung her 
 horse round Joe and sailed out with him 
 with the herd bellowing at the tail of her 
 broncho. I've seen some cavalry things 
 in my day, but for sheer cool bravery 
 nothing touches that." 
 
 " How did it end ? Did they run 
 them down ?" I asked with iiorror at 
 such a lesult. 
 
 " No, they crowded her toward the rut- 
 bank, and she was edging them off and 
 was almost past, when they came to a 
 place where the bank bit in, and her iron- 
 
mouthed brute wouldn't swerve, but went 
 pounding on, broke through, plunged; 
 she couldn't spring free because of Joe, 
 and pitched headlong over the bank, 
 while the cattle went thundering past. 
 I flung myself off Jingo and slid down 
 somehow into the sand, thirty feet below. 
 Here was Joe safe enough, but the bron- 
 cho lay with a broken leg, and half under 
 him was Gwen. She hardly knew she 
 was hurt, but waved her hand to me and 
 cried out, ' Wasn't that a race ? I 
 couldn't swing this hard-headed brute. 
 Get me out.' But even as she spoke the 
 light faded from her eyes, she stretched 
 out her hands to me, saying faintly, 'Oh, 
 Duke,' and lay back white and still. Wi; 
 put a bullet into the buckskin's head, and 
 carried her home in our jackets and there 
 she lies without a sound from her poor 
 white lips." 
 
 The Duke was badly cut up. I had 
 never seen him show any sign of pain 
 before, but as he finished the story he 
 stood ghastly and shaking. He read my 
 surprise in my face and said : 
 
 " Look here, old chap, don't think me 
 quite a fool. You can't know what that 
 little girl has done for me these years. 
 Her trust in me — it is extraordinary how 
 utterly she trusts me— somehow held me 
 up to my best and back from perdition. 
 It is the one bright spot in my life in this 
 blessed country. Everyone else thinks 
 me a pleasant or unpleasant kind of 
 fiend." 
 
 I protested rather faintly. 
 
 "Oh, don't worry your conscience,'' he 
 answered with a .slight return of his old 
 smile, "a fuller knowledge would only 
 justify the opinion." Then after a pause 
 he added, " But if Gwen goes I must pull 
 out, I could not stand it." 
 
 As we rode up the Doctor came out. 
 
 " Well, what do you think ? " asked the 
 Duke. 
 
 •' Can't say yet," replied the old Doctor, 
 
gruff with long army practice, "bad 
 enough ; good night." 
 
 But the Duke's hand fell upon his 
 shoulder with a grip that must have got 
 to the bone, and in a inisky voice he 
 
 "Will she live?" 
 
 The Doctor squirmed, but could not 
 shake off that crushing grip. 
 
 " Here, you young tiger, let go ! what 
 do you think I am made of?" he cried 
 angrily. " I didn't suppose I was com- 
 ing to a bear's den, or I should have 
 brought a gun." 
 
 It was only by the most complete 
 apology that the Duke could mollify the 
 old Doctor sufficiently to get his opinion. 
 
 " No, she will not die ! Great bit of 
 stuff ! Better she should die perhaps ! 
 But can't say yet for two weeks. Now 
 remember," he added sharply, looking in- 
 to the Duke's woe-stricken face, "her 
 spirits must be kept up. I have lied most 
 fully and cheerfully to them inside, you 
 must do the same," and the Doctor strode 
 away calling out : 
 
 " Joe ! Here Joe ! Where is he gone ? 
 Joe, I say ! Extraordinary selection 
 Providence makes at times ; we could have 
 spared that lazy half-breed with pleasure ! 
 Joe ! Oh, here you are ! Where in 
 
 thunder " But here the Doctor 
 
 stopped abruptly. The agony in the 
 dark face before him was too much even 
 for the bluff doctor. Straight and stiff 
 Joe stood by the horse's head till the 
 Doctor had mounted, then with a great 
 effort he said : 
 
 " Little miss, she go dead ? " 
 " Dead !" called out the Doctor,glancing 
 at the open window, " Why, bless your 
 old copper carcass, no ! Gwen will show 
 you yet how to rope a steer." 
 
 Joe took a step nearer, and lowering his 
 tone said : 
 
 " You speak me true ? me man me, no 
 
 papoose. 
 
 The 
 
 piercmg 
 
 «3 
 
 black 
 
 eyes 
 
asm 
 
 searched the Doctor's face. The Doctor 
 hesitated a moment and then with an air 
 of great candor said cheerily : 
 
 " That's all right, Joe ! Miss Gwen 
 will cut circles round your old cayuse yet. 
 But remember," and the Doctor was very 
 impressive, "you must make her laugh 
 every day." 
 
 Joe folded his arms across his breast 
 and stood like a statue till the Doctor 
 rode away, then turning to us he grunted 
 out : 
 
 " Him good man, eh ? " 
 
 " Good man," answered the Duke, 
 adding ** but remember, Joe, what he 
 told you to do. Must make her laugh 
 every day." 
 
 Poor Joe ! Humor was not his /orfe, 
 and his attempts in this direction in the 
 weeks that followed would have been 
 humorous were they not so pathetic. 
 How I did my part I cannot tell. Those 
 weeks are to me now like the memory of 
 an ugly nightmare. The ghostly old m n 
 moving in and out of his little daughter's 
 room in useless dumb agony; Ponka's 
 woe-stricken Indian face ; Joe's extra- 
 ordinary and unusual but loyal attempts 
 at fun-making grotesquely sad, and the 
 Duke's unvarying and invincible cheeri- 
 ness ; these furnish light and shade for 
 the picture my memory brings me of 
 Gwen in those days. 
 
 For the first two weeks she was simply 
 heroic. She bore her pain without a 
 groan, submitted to the imprisonment 
 which was harder than pain with angelic 
 patience. Joe, the Duke and I carried 
 out our instructions with careful exactness 
 to the letter. She never doubted, and we 
 never let her doubt, but in a few weeks 
 she would be on the pinto's back again 
 and after the cattle. She made us pass 
 our word for this till it seemed as if she 
 must have read the falsehoods on our 
 brows. 
 
 " To lie cheerfully with her eyes upon 
 
 >4 
 
 1^ 
 
one's face calls for more than I possess," 
 said the Duke one day, " The Doctor 
 should supply us tonics. It is an arduous 
 task." 
 
 And she believed us absolutely, and 
 made plans for the fall " round-up," and 
 for hunts and rides till one's heart grew 
 sick. As to the ethical problem involved 
 I decline to express an opinion, but we 
 had no need to wait for our punishment. 
 Her trust in us, her eager and confident 
 expectation of the return of her happy, 
 free, outdoor life ; these brought to us, 
 who knew how vain they were, their own 
 adequate punishment for every false as- 
 surance we gave. And how bright and 
 brave she was those first days, and how 
 ' ^ resolute to get back to the world of air 
 
 and light outside ! 
 
 But all this cheery hope and courage 
 and patience was snuffed out as a candle, 
 leaving noisome darkness to settle down 
 in that sick room from the day of the 
 doctors' consultation. 
 
 The verdict was clear and final. The 
 old Doctor, who loved (Jwen as his own, 
 was inclined to hope against hope, but 
 Fawcett, the clever young doctor from 
 the distant town, was positive in his 
 opinion. The scene is clear to me now, 
 after many years. We three stood in the 
 outer room ; the Duke and her father 
 were with Gwen. So earnest was the 
 discussion that none of us heard the door 
 open just as young Fawcett was saying in 
 his incisive tones — 
 
 " No ! I can see no hope. The child 
 can never walk again." 
 
 There was a cry behind us. 
 
 " What ! Never walk again ! It's a lie I " 
 There stood the Old Timer, white, fierce, 
 shaking. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the old Doctor,pointing 
 at the open door. He was too late. 
 Even as he spoke, there came from the 
 inner room a wild unearthly cry as of some 
 dying thing, and as we stood gazing at 
 
SmMMiiwi 
 
 I ! 
 
 I! 
 
 
 one another with awe-stricken faces we 
 heard Gwen's voice as in quick sharp 
 pain : 
 
 " Daddy ! daddy ! come ! What do they 
 say ? Tell mt', daddy. It is not true ! 
 It is not true I Look at me, daddy !" 
 
 She pulled up her father's haggard face 
 from the bed. 
 
 "Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true. 
 Never walk again ! " 
 
 She turned with a pitiful cry to the 
 Duke who stood white and stiff with arms 
 drawn tight across his breast on the other 
 side of the bed. 
 
 " Oh, Duke, did you hear them ? You 
 told me to be brave, and I tried not to 
 cry when they hurt me. But I can't be 
 brave. Can I, Duke ? Oh, Duke ! never 
 to ride again ! '* 
 
 She stretched out her hands to him. 
 But the Duke, leaning over her and hold- 
 ing her hands fast in his, could only say 
 brokenly over and over : " Don't, (iwen ! 
 Don't, Gwen dear!" 
 
 But the pitiful pleading voice went on. 
 
 " Oh, Duke ! must I always lie here ? 
 must I ? why must I ? " 
 
 "God knows," answered the Duke 
 bitterly under his breath, " 1 don't ! " 
 
 She caught at the word. 
 
 " Does He ? " she cried eagerly. Then 
 she paused suddenly, turned to me and 
 said : " Do you remember he said some 
 day I could not do as I liked." 
 
 I was puzzled. 
 
 "The Pilot," she cried impatiently, 
 "don't you remember? and I said I 
 should do as I liked till I died." 
 
 I nodded my head and said, " But 
 you know you didn't mean it." 
 
 " But I did and I do," she cried with 
 passionate vehemence, " and I will do as 
 1 like ! I will not lie here I I will ride ! 
 I will ! I will ! I will ! " and she struggled 
 up and clenched her fists. It was no 
 pleasant sight, but gruesome. Her rage 
 
 i6 
 
 ■i^MMil 
 
But 
 
 against that Unseen Omnipotence was 
 so defiant and so helpless. 
 
 Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen 
 and to all about her. The constant pain 
 could not break her proud spirit, she shed 
 no tears but she fretted and chafed and 
 grew more imperiously exacting every 
 day. Ponka and Joe she drove like a 
 slave master, and even her father, when 
 he could not understand her wishes, she 
 impatiently banished from her room. 
 Only the Duke could please or bring 
 her any cheer, but even the Duke began 
 to feel that the day was not far off when 
 he too would fail, and the thought made 
 him despair. Her pain was hard to bear, 
 but harder than the pain was her longing 
 for the open air and the free life upon 
 the prairie. But most pitiful of all were 
 the days when in her utter weariness and 
 uncontrollable unrest she would pray to 
 be taken down into the canyon. 
 
 *' Oh, it is so cool and shady," she 
 would plead, "and the flowers up in the 
 rocks and the vines and things are all so 
 lovely. I am always better there. I 
 know I should be better," till the Duke 
 would be distracted and would come 
 to me and wonder what the end would 
 be 
 
 One day when the strain had been 
 more terrible than usual, the Duke rode 
 down to me and said : 
 
 " Look here, this thing can't go on. 
 Where is the Pilot gone? Why doesn't 
 he stay where he belongs? I wish to 
 Heaven he would get through with his 
 absurd rambling." 
 
 " He's gone where he was sent," I 
 replied shortly. "You don't set much 
 store by him when he does come 
 round. He is gone on an exploring trip 
 through the Dog Lake country. He'll 
 be back by the end of next week." 
 
 " I say, bring him up for Heaven's 
 sake," said the Duke, " he may be of some 
 use, and anyway it will be a new face 
 
 >7 
 
for her, poor child." Then he added 
 rather penitently, "I fear this thing 
 is getting on to my nerves. Don't lay 
 it up against me, old chap ! " It was 
 a new thing to hear the Duke confess 
 his need of any man, much less penitence 
 for a fault. I felt my eyes growing 
 dim, but I said roughly : 
 
 " You be hanged ! I'll bring the 
 Pilot up when he comes." 
 
 It was wonderful how we had all come 
 to confide in the Pilot during his year of 
 missionary work among us. Somehow 
 the cowboys' name of " Sky Pilot " seem- 
 ed to express better than anything else 
 the place he held with us. Certain it is 
 that when in their dark hours any of the 
 fellows felt in need of help to strike the 
 ** upward trail," they went to the Pilot ; 
 and so the name first given in chaff came 
 to be the name that expressed most truly 
 the deep and tender feeling these rough, 
 big-hearted men cherished for him. 
 
 When the Pilot came home I carefully 
 prepared him for his trial, telling all that 
 Gwen had suffered, and striving to make 
 him feel how desperate was her case, when 
 even the Duke had to confess himself 
 beaten. He did not seem sufficiently 
 impressed. Then I pictured for him all 
 her fierce wilfulness and her fretful humors, 
 her impatience with those who loved her 
 and were wearing out their souls and bodies 
 for her. " In short," I ended up by say- 
 ing, " she doesn't care a rush for anything 
 in Heaven or earth and will yield to 
 neither man nor God." 
 
 The Pilot's eye had been kindling as 
 I talked, but he only answered quietly : 
 
 " What should you expect ? " 
 
 " Well, I do think she might show some 
 signs of gratitude and some gentleness 
 towards those ready to die for her." 
 
 " Oh, you do," said he with high scorn. 
 " You all combine to ruin her temper 
 and disposition with foolish flattery and 
 weak yielding to her whims, right or wrong; 
 
 i8 
 
the 
 
 to 
 
 you smile at her imperious pride and 
 encourage her wilfulness, and then not 
 only wonder at the results, but blame 
 her, poor child, for all. Oh, you are a 
 fine lot, the Duke and all of you ! " 
 
 He had a most exasperating ability for 
 putting one in the wrong, and I could 
 only think of the proper and sufficient 
 reply long after the opportunity for mak- 
 ing it had passed. I wondered what the 
 Duke would say to this doctrine. All the 
 following day, which was Sunday, I could 
 see that Gwen was on his mind He was 
 struggling with the problem of pain. 
 Monday morning found us on the way to 
 to the Old Timer's ranche. And what a 
 morning it was ! And how beautiful our 
 world seemed to us. About us rolled 
 the round-topped velvet hills, brown and 
 yellow or faintly green, spreading out be- 
 hind us to the broad prairie, and before 
 clambering up and up to meet the purple 
 bases of the great mountains that lay their 
 mighty length along the horizon and 
 thrust up white sunlit peaks into the 
 blue sky. On the hillsides and down in 
 the sheltering hollows we could see the 
 bunches of cattle and horses feeding upon 
 the rich grasses. Above all the sky, cloud- 
 less and blue, arched its great kindly roof 
 from prairie to mountain peaks, and over 
 all, above, below, on prairie, hillsides and 
 mountains, the sun poured his floods of 
 radiant yellow light. 
 
 As we followed the trail that wound up 
 and into the heart of these rounded hills 
 and ever nearer to the purple mountains, 
 the morning breeze swept down to meet 
 us, bearing a thousand scents and filling 
 us with its own fresh life. One can know 
 the quickening joyousness of these Foot- 
 hill breezes only after he has with wide 
 open mouth drunk deep and full of them. 
 
 Through all this mingling radiant beauty 
 of sunlit hills and shady hollows and 
 purple snow-peaked mountains we rode 
 with hardly a word, every minute adding 
 
to our heart-Blliiig delight, but ever with 
 the thought of the little room where, shut 
 in from all this outside glory, lay Gwen, 
 heart-sore with fretting and longing. This 
 must have been in the Pilot's mind, for 
 he suddenly held up his horse and burst 
 out : 
 
 " Poor CJwen, how she loves all this — 
 it is her very life. How can she help 
 fretting the heart out of her? To see 
 this no more !" He flung himself off" his 
 broncho and said, as if thinking aloud : 
 " It is too awful ! Oh, it is cruel ! I 
 don't wonder at her ! ( lod help me what 
 can I say to her ?" 
 
 He threw himself down upon the grass 
 and turned over on his face. After a few 
 minutes he appealed to me, and his face 
 was sorely troubled. 
 
 " How can one go to her ? It seems 
 to me sheerest mockery to speak of 
 patience and submission to a wild young 
 thing from whom all this is suddenly 
 snatched forever ; and this was very life to 
 her, too, remember." 
 
 Then he sprang up and we rode hard 
 for an hour till we came to the mouth of 
 the canyon. Here the trail grew difficult 
 and we came to a walk, and as we went 
 down into the cool depths the spirit of 
 the canyon came to meet us and took the 
 Pilot in its grip. He rode in front, feast- 
 ing his eyes on all the wonders in that 
 storehouse of beauty. Trees of many 
 kinds deepened the shadows of the can- 
 yon. Over us waved the big elms that 
 grew up here and there out of the bottom, 
 and around their feet clustered low cedars 
 and hemlocks and balsams, while the 
 sturdy rugged oaks and delicate trembling 
 poplars clung to the rocky sides and 
 clambered up and out to the canyon's 
 sunny lips. Back of all, the great black 
 rocks, decked with mossy bits and cling- 
 ing things, glistened cool and moist be- 
 tween the parting trees. From many an 
 oozy nook the dainty clematis and colum- 
 
 S 
 
 * 
 
 ) 
 
«f 
 
 i 
 
 f 
 
 bine shook out their l)ell.s,aiid lower down, 
 from beds of many colored moss, the late 
 wind-flower and maiden-hair and tiny 
 violet lifted up brave sweet faces, and 
 through the canyon the I>ittle Swan sang 
 its song to rocks and flowers and over- 
 hanging trees, a song of many tones, deep 
 booming where it took its first sheer 
 plunge, gay chattering where it threw 
 itself down the ragged rocks, and soft 
 murmuring where it lingered about the 
 roots of the loving, listening elms. A 
 cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with all 
 its shades and sounds and silences, and, 
 lest it should be sad to any, the sharp 
 i|uick sunbeams danced and laughed 
 down through all its leaves upon mosses, 
 flowers and rocks. No wonder that the 
 Pilot, drawing a deep breath as he touch- 
 ed the prairie s' j '.gain, said : 
 
 " That does u.a good. It is better at 
 times even than the sunny hills. This 
 was (Iwen's best spot." 
 
 I saw that the canyon had done its 
 work with him. His face was strong and 
 calm as the hills on a summer morning, 
 and with this face he looked in upon 
 (I wen. It was one of her bad days and 
 one of her bad moods, but like a summer 
 breeze he burst into the little room. 
 
 " Oh, Gwen ! " he cried, without a word 
 of greeting, much less of commiseration, 
 "we have had such a ride." And he 
 spread out the sunlit, round-topped hills 
 before her, till I could feel their very 
 breezes in my face. This the Duke had 
 never dared to do, fearing to grieve her 
 with pictures of what she should look 
 upon no more. But as the Pilot talked, 
 before she knew, Gwen was out again 
 upon her beloved hills, breathing their 
 fresh sunny air, filling her heart with 
 their multitudinous delights, till her eyes 
 grew bright and the lines of fretting 
 smoothed out of her face and she forgot 
 her pain. Then, before she could remem- 
 ber, he had her down into the canyon, 
 
feasting her heart with its airs and sights 
 and sounds. The black glistening rocks, 
 tricked out with moss and trailing vines, 
 the great elms and low green cedars, the 
 oaks and shivering poplars, the clematis 
 and columbine hanging from the rocky 
 nooks, and the violets and maiden-hair 
 deep bedded in their mosses. All this 
 and far more he showed her with a touch 
 so light as not to shake the morning dew 
 from bell or leaf or frond, and with 
 a voice so soft and full of music as 
 to fill our hearts with the canyon's ming- 
 ling sounds, and as I looked upon her 
 face I said to myself, " Dear old Pilot, for 
 this I shall always love you well," but 
 as poor Gwen listened the rapture of it 
 drew the big tears down her cheeks, alas, 
 no longer brown, but white ; and for 
 that day at least the dull dead weariness 
 was lifted trom her heart. 
 
 But none knew better than the Pilot 
 that the fight was still to come, for deep 
 in Gwen's heart were thoughts whose 
 pain made her forget all other. 
 
 " Was it God let me fall?" she asked 
 abruptly one day, and the Pilot knew the 
 fight was on, but he only answered, looking 
 fearlessly into her eyes : 
 
 " Yes, Gwen dear." 
 
 " Why did He let me fall ? " and her 
 voice was very deliberate. 
 
 " I don't know, Gwen dear," said the 
 Pilot steadily, " He knows." 
 
 " And does He know I shall never ride 
 again ? Does He know how long the days 
 are, and the nights when I can't sleep ? 
 Does He know ? " 
 
 " Yes, (iwen dear," said the Pilot, and 
 the tears were standing in his eyes though 
 his voice was still steady enough. 
 
 " Are you sure He knows ? " The voice 
 was painfully intense. 
 
 "Listen to me, Gwen," began the 
 Pilot in great distress, but she cut him 
 short. 
 
 " Are you quite sure He knows? Answer 
 n 
 
 i 
 
as 
 
 me," she cried with her old imperious- 
 ness. 
 
 "Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you." 
 
 " Then what do you think of Him, just 
 because He's big and strong, treating 
 a little girl that way ? " Then she added 
 viciously, " I hate Him ! I don't care, 
 I hate Him ! " 
 
 But the Pilot did not wince. I won- 
 dered how he would solve that problem 
 that was puzzling not only Gwen, but her 
 father and the Duke and all of us — the 
 why of human pain. 
 
 " Gwen," said the Pilot, as if changing 
 the subject, " did it hurt to put on the 
 plaster jacket ? " 
 
 "You just bet," said Gwen lapsing 
 in her English as the Duke was not 
 present, " it was worse than anything, 
 awful. They had to straighten me out, 
 you know," and she shuddered at the 
 memory of that pain. 
 
 " What a pity your father or the 
 Duke was not here," said the Pilot 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Why ! they were both here." 
 
 " What a cruel shame ! " burst out the 
 Pilot, " don't they care for you any more?" 
 
 " Of course they do," said Gwen indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " Why didn't they stop the doctors from 
 hurting you so cruelly ? " 
 
 "Why, they let the doctors. It is 
 going to help me to sit up and perhaps 
 to walk about a little," answered Gwen, 
 with blue-gray eyes open wide. 
 
 "Oh," said the Pilot, "it was very 
 mean to stand by and see you hurt like 
 that." 
 
 " Why, you silly," replied Gwen im- 
 patiently, "they want my back to get 
 straight and strong." 
 
 "Oh, then they didn't do it just for 
 fun or for nothing ? " said the Pilot inno- 
 cently. 
 
 Gwen gazed at him in amazed and 
 speechless wrath, and he went on ; 
 
" I mean they love you though they 
 let you be hurt, or rather they let the 
 doctors hurt you because they loved you 
 and wanted to make you better." 
 
 (Iwen kept her eyes fixed with curious 
 earnestness upon his face till the light be- 
 gan to dawn. 
 
 " Do you mean," she began slowly, 
 " that though God let me fall He loves 
 me?" 
 
 The Pilot nodded, he could not trust 
 his voice. 
 
 "I wonder if that can be true." she said 
 as if to herself, and soon we said good-bye 
 and came away, the Pilot limp and voice- 
 less, but I triumphant, for 1 began to see 
 a little light for Gwen. 
 
 But the fight was by no means over, 
 indeed, it was hardly well begun— and 
 when the autumn came with its misty 
 purple days, most glorious of all days in 
 the cattle country, the old restlessness 
 came back and the fierce refusal of her 
 lot. Then came the day of the round- 
 up. Why should she have to stay while 
 all went after the cattle? The Duke 
 would have remained, but she impatiently 
 sent him away. She was weary and heart- 
 sick, and, worst of all, she began to feel 
 that most terrible of burdens, the burden 
 of her life to others. I was much relieved 
 when the Pilot came in fresh and bright, 
 waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I thought thev were all gone," he 
 cried. "Where do you think I found 
 them ? Right down by the big elm 
 root," and though he saw by the settled 
 gloom of htr face that the storm was com- 
 ing, he went bravely on picturing the 
 canyon i'l all the splendour of its autumn 
 dress. But the spell would not work. 
 Her heart was out on the sloping hills, 
 whcie the cattle were bunching and 
 crowding with tossing heads and rattling 
 horns, and it was in a voice very bitter 
 and impatient that she cried : 
 
 24 
 
 'i 
 
 4 
 

 f 
 
 " Oh, I am sick of all this. I want to 
 ride. I want to see the birds and the 
 cattle." The Pilot was cowboy enough 
 to know the longing tiiat tugged at her 
 heart for one wild race after the calves or 
 stags, but he could only say : 
 
 " Wait, (iwen ! try to be patient." 
 
 " I am patient, at least I have been 
 patient for two whole months, and it's no 
 use, and I don't believe (iod cares one 
 bit ! " 
 
 " Yes he does, (Iwen, more than any 
 of us," replied the Pilot earnestly. 
 
 " No ! He does not care," she answered 
 with angry emphasis, and the Pilot made 
 no reply. 
 
 " Perhaps," she went on hesitatingly, 
 " He's angry because I said I didn't care 
 for Him, you remember ? That was very 
 wicked. But don't you think I'm punish- 
 ed nearly enough now ? You made me 
 very angry and I didn't really mean it." 
 
 Poor Gwen, God had grown to be very 
 real to her during these weeks of pain, 
 and very terrible. The Pilot looked down 
 a moment into the grey-blue eyes grown 
 so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly drop- 
 ping on his knees beside the bed he said 
 in a very unsteady voice : 
 
 " Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. 
 Don't you remember how Jesus was with 
 the poor sick people ? That's what He's 
 like." 
 
 *' Could Jesus make me well ? " 
 
 " Yes, (;wen." 
 
 " Then why doesn't He," she asked, 
 and there was no impatience now, but 
 only trembling anxiety as she went on 
 in a timid voice, " I asked Him to, over 
 and over, and said I would wait two 
 months, and now it's more than three. 
 Are you quite sure He hears now?" 
 She raised herself on her elbow and 
 gazed searchingly into the Pilot's face. 
 I was glad it was not into mine. As 
 she uttered the words " are you quite 
 sure ? " one felt that things were in the 
 as 
 
 ■I 
 
 &BSmm 
 
balance. I could not help looking at the 
 Pilot with intense anxiety. What would 
 he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the 
 window upon the hills for a few moments. 
 How long the silence seemed I Then 
 turning, looked into the eyes that searched 
 his so steadily and answered simply : 
 
 " Yes, Gwen, I am quite sure ! " Then 
 with quick inspiration he got her mother's 
 Bible and said " now Clwen try to see it as 
 I read." But before he read, with the 
 true artist's instinct he created the proper 
 atmosphere. By a few vivid words he 
 made us feel the pathetic loneliness 
 of the Man of Sorrows in His last .sad 
 days. Then he read that masterpiece 
 of all tragic picturing, the story of Geth- 
 semane. As he read we saw it 
 all, the Garden and the trees and 
 the sorrow-stricken Man alone with His 
 mysterious agony. We heard the prayer 
 so pathetically submissive and then, for 
 answer, the rabble and the traitor. 
 
 Gwen was far too quick to need explana- 
 tion, and the Pilot only said, " You see, 
 Gwen God gives nothing but the best — 
 to His own Son only the best." 
 
 "The best? They took Him away, 
 didn't they ? " She knew the story well. 
 
 " Yes, but listen," he turned the leaves 
 rapidly and read, " We see Jesus for the 
 suffering of death crowned with glory 
 and honor.' That is how He got His 
 Kingdom." 
 
 Gwen listened silent but unconvinced, 
 and then said slowly : 
 
 " But how can this be best for me ? 
 I am no use to anyone. It can't be best 
 to just lie here and make them all wait 
 on me and — and — I did want to help 
 daddy — and— oh — I know they will all 
 get tired of me ! They are getting tired 
 already — I ! 1 ! can't help being hateful" 
 
 She was by this time sobbing as I had 
 never heard before deep passionate sol)s. 
 Then again the Pilot had an inspiration. 
 
 " Now Gwen," he said severely, " you 
 36 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
I?. 
 
 1 
 
 you 
 
 know we're not as mean as that, and 
 that you are just talking nonsense every 
 word. Now I'm g<.)ing to smooth out 
 your red hair and tell you a story." 
 
 " It's no/ red," she cried between her 
 sobs. This was her sore point. 
 
 " It is red, as red as can be, a beauti- 
 ful shining purple re£f," said the Pilot 
 emphatically, beginning to brush. 
 
 " P .rple ! " cried Gwen scornfully. 
 
 " Yes, I've seen it in the sun, purple. 
 Haven't you ? " said the Pilot appealing 
 to me. "And my story is about the can- 
 yon, our canyon, vour canvon down 
 there." 
 
 " Is it true ? " asked Gwen, already 
 soothed by the cool quick-moving hands. 
 
 "True? It's as true as — as — ," he 
 glanced round the room " as the Pilgrim's 
 Progress." This was satisfactory, and the 
 story went on. 
 
 "At first there were no canyons, but 
 only the broad open Prairie. One day 
 the Master of the Prairie, walking out 
 over his great lawns, where were only 
 grasses, asked the Prairie, ' Where are 
 your flowers?' and the Prairie said, 
 ' Master I have no seeds.' Then he 
 spoke to the birds, and they carried seeds 
 of every kind of flower and strewed them 
 far and wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed 
 with crocuses, and roses,and buffalo-beans, 
 and the yellow crowfoot, and the wild sun- 
 flowers, and the red lilies, all the summer 
 long. Then the Master came and was 
 well pleased, but he missed the flowers he 
 loved best of all, and he said to the 
 Prairie, ' Where are the clematis and the 
 columbine, the sweet violets and wind- 
 flowers, and all the ferns and flowering 
 shrubs ? ' And again he spoke to the birds, 
 and again they carried all the seeds and 
 strewed them far and wide. But, again, 
 when the Master came, he could not find 
 the flowers he loved best of all, and he 
 said, ' Where are those my sweetest 
 flowers,' and the Prairie cried sorrowfully, 
 27 
 
' Oh, Master, I cannot kee[) the flowers, 
 for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun 
 beats upon my l)reast, and they wither up 
 and fly away.' Then the Master spoke to 
 the Lightning, and with one swift blow the 
 Lightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. 
 And the Prairie rocked and groaned in 
 agony, and for many a day mourned bit- 
 terly over its black, jagged, gaping wound. 
 But the Little Swan poured its waters 
 through the cleft, and carried down deep 
 black mould, and once more the birds 
 carried seeds and strewed them in the 
 canyon. And, after a long time, the rough 
 rocks were decked out with soft mosses 
 and trailing vines, and all the nooks were 
 hung with clematis and columbine; and 
 great elms lifted their huge tops high up 
 into the sunlight, and down about their 
 feet clustered the low cedars and balsams, 
 and everywhere the violets, and wind- 
 flower and maiden-hair grew and bloomed, 
 till the canyon became the Master's place 
 for rest, and peace, and joy." 
 
 The quaint tale was ended, and (jwen 
 lay quiet for some moments, then said 
 gently : 
 
 " Yes ! the canyon flowers are much 
 the best. 'J'ell me what it means." 
 
 Then the Pilot read to her "Thefruits — 
 I'll read 'flowers' — of the spirit are love, 
 joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, good- 
 ness, faith, meekness, self control. And 
 some of these grow only in the canyon." 
 
 " Which are the canyon flowers ?" asked 
 (iwen softly, and the Pilot answered : 
 
 " Gentleness, meekness, self-control ; 
 but though the others, love, joy, peace, 
 bloom in the open, yet never with so rich 
 a bloom and so sweet a perfume as in the 
 canyon." 
 
 For a long time Gwen lay quite still, 
 then said wistfully, while her lip tiembled: 
 
 " There are no flowers in my canyon, 
 but only ragged rocks." 
 
 a8 
 
much 
 
 " Some day they will bloom, Gwen 
 dear; He will find them, and we too shall 
 see them." 
 
 Then he said good-bye and took me 
 away. He had done his work that day. 
 
 We rode through the big gate, down the 
 sloping hill, past the smiling, twinkling 
 little lake, and down again out of the 
 broad sunshine into the shadows and soft 
 lights of the canyon. As we followed the 
 trail that wound among the elms and 
 cedars, the very air was full of gentle still- 
 ness and as we moved we seemed to feel 
 the touch of loving hands that lingered 
 while they left us, and every flower and 
 tree and vine and shrub and the soft 
 mosses and deep bedded ferns whispered, 
 as we passed, of love and peace and joy. 
 
 To the Duke it was all a wonder, for 
 as the days shortened outside they bright- 
 ened inside, and every day and more and 
 more Owen's room became the brightest 
 spot in all the house, and when he asked 
 the Pilot : 
 
 " What did you do to the little Prin- 
 cess, and what's all this about the canyon 
 and its flowers ?" 
 
 The Pilot said, looking wistfully into 
 the Duke's eyes : 
 
 " 'I'he fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, 
 long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, 
 meekness, self-control; and some of these 
 are found only in the canyon." 
 
 And the Duke, standing up straight, 
 handsome and strong, looked back at the 
 Pilot and said, putting out his hand : 
 " Do you know, I believe you're right." 
 "Yes, I'm quite sure," answered the 
 Pilot simply. Then holding the Duke's 
 hand as long as one man dare hold 
 another's, he added, " When you come to 
 your canyon, remember." 
 
 " When I come I" said the Duke, and a 
 quick spasm of pain passed over his hand- 
 
 •9 
 
some face — " God help me, it's not too 
 far away now." Then he smiled again 
 his old sweet smile and said : 
 
 " Yes, you are all right, for of all flowers 
 I have seen notie are fairer or sweeter 
 than those that are waving in (iwen's 
 Canyon." 
 
 I; 
 
 30 
 
i