Free L. Frank Baum_Aunt Jane 06 by Aunt Jane's Nieces, Uncle John

of
travelers visiting Bright Angel. You might place a baker's dozen of
the huge Falls of Niagara in the Grand Canyon and scarcely notice they
were there. All the vast cathedrals of Europe set upon its plateau
would seem like pebbles when viewed from the brink. The thing is
simply incomprehensible to those who have not seen it.
    Presently Uncle John and the Major came out to join them and they all
wandered along the edge until they came to a huge rock that jutted
out far over the monster gulf. On the furthermost point of this rock,
standing with his feet at the very brink, was a tall, thin man, his
back toward them. It seemed a fearful thing to do—to stand where the
slightest slip would send him reeling into the abyss.
    "It's like tempting fate," whispered Patsy, a safe distance away. "I
wish he would step back a little."
    As if he had overheard her the man half turned and calmly examined the
group. His eyes were an almost colorless blue, his features destitute
of any expression. By his dress he seemed well-to-do, if not
prosperous, yet there was a hint of melancholy in his poise and about
him a definite atmosphere of loneliness.
    After that one deliberate look he turned again and faced the canyon,
paying no attention to the interested little party that hovered far
enough from the edge to avoid any possible danger.
    "Oh, dear!" whispered Myrtle, clinging to Beth's arm with trembling
fingers, "I'm afraid he's going to—to commit suicide!"
    "Nonsense!" answered Beth, turning pale nevertheless.
    The figure was motionless as before. Uncle John and the Major started
along the path but as Beth attempted to follow them Myrtle broke away
from her and hobbled eagerly on her crutches toward the stranger. She
did not go quite to the end of the jutting rock, but stopped some feet
away and called in a low, intense voice:
    "Don't!"
    The man turned again, with no more expression in his eyes or face than
before. He looked at Myrtle steadily a moment, then turned and slowly
left the edge, walking to firm ground and back toward the hotel
without another glance at the girl.
    "I'm so ashamed," said Myrtle, tears of vexation in her eyes as she
rejoined her friends. "But somehow I felt I must warn him—it was an
impulse I just couldn't resist."
    "Why, no harm resulted, in any event, my dear," returned Beth. "I
wouldn't think of it again."
    They took so long a walk that all were nearly famished when they
returned to the hotel for breakfast.
    Of course Patsy and Beth wanted to go down Bright Angel Trail into the
depths of the canyon, for that is the thing all adventurous spirits
love to do.
    "I'm too fat for such foolishness," said Uncle John, "so I'll stay up
here and amuse Myrtle."
    The Major decided to go, to "look after our Patsy;" so the three
joined the long line of daring tourists and being mounted on docile,
sure-footed burros, followed the guide down the trail.
    Myrtle and Uncle John spent the morning on the porch of the hotel. At
breakfast the girl had noticed the tall man they had encountered at
the canyon's edge quietly engaged in eating at a small table in a far
corner of the great dining room. During the forenoon he came from the
hotel to the porch and for a time stood looking far away over the
canyon.
    Aroused to sympathy by the loneliness of this silent person, Uncle
John left his chair and stood beside him at the railing.
    "It's a wonderful sight, sir," he remarked in his brisk, sociable way;
"wonderful indeed!"
    For a moment there was no reply.
    "It seems to call one," said the man at length, as if to himself. "It
calls one."
    "It's a wonder to me it doesn't call more people to see it," observed
Mr. Merrick, cheerfully. "Think of this magnificent thing—greater and
grander than anything the Old World can show, being here right in the
heart of America, almost—and so few rush to see it! Why, in time to
come, sir," he added enthusiastically, "not to have seen the Grand
Canyon of Arizona will be an admission of inferiority.