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"I may be a little to blame for keeping Miriam," said the elder woman. "I have been so much interested in what she was saying." "Every one is," responded Mrs. Gunnison, warmly. "Miriam is so popular quite celebrated, for it. Indeed, there are numbers of people here who want to meet her. One young man in particular Mr. Leeds " "Did he say he wished to know me?" the girl asked, quickly.
At one point they fortunately found a barrel of cut loaf-sugar amongst the driftwood. This had been lost from some army-supplies crossing at Gunnison Valley up the Green, or up Grand River, and they also found, a little below this, pieces of a waggon with the skeleton of a man.
No one before had ever had the hardihood to even make the attempt, on account of the extreme danger of a journey between the narrow black walls of this gloomy abyss. In 1853 Captain Gunnison discovered the river which bears his name. He traced its course to where it plunged into a chasm so deep and dangerous that he feared to follow it farther and named the gorge Black Canyon.
In the days to come two others were to learn the truth, and to these four alone was It restricted for all time. That night after the inquest the body of the dead desperado was taken to Gunnison, and Justice was satisfied.
There are two opinions, at least!" "Of course!" cried Betty Gunnison, her black eyes snapping at Hal. She would have said more, but Hal interrupted, stepping closer to his host. "Percy," he said, in a low voice, "come back here, please. I have a word to say to you alone."
Judging by the appearance of the note it might have been thrown in many years before. Delta, we knew, was on the Gunnison River, a tributary of the Grand River. The bottle must have travelled over two hundred miles to reach this spot.
"You don't handle people with a gun any more in California than you do in New York. These aren't the days of Forty-nine." "But I thought the 'old-timers' still carried guns," persisted the boy. "Very few do now. But I got into trouble once, or thought I was going to, when I was a Ranger in the Gunnison Forest. It involved some Douglas fir telephone poles.
Most of the men who were gunning in Gunnison in the early 80's were fearless men, who, when a difference of opinion arose, faced each other and fought it out; but there had come to live at La Veta a thin, quiet, handsome fellow, who moved mysteriously in and out of the camp, slept a lot by day, and showed a fondness for faro by night. When a name was needed he signed "Buckingham."
Wild creatures of woodland ways don't come to your beck and call. You have to hunt out their secret haunts. The same with these Western mountaineers. Hunt them out; but do it with reverence! I was driving in the Gunnison country with a local magnate two years ago. We saw against the far sky-line a cleft like the arched entrance to a cave; only this arch led through the rock to the sky beyond.
Buckingham, peering over a piano-box, behind which he had hidden at Gunnison, saw and recognized the photograph; for the messenger's white light stood on the little safe near the picture. For half an hour he had been watching Cassidy, wondering why he did not fall asleep. He had seen Nora put the cup down with her own hand, to guard, as he thought, against the possibility of a mistake.
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