Jack managed to escort his friends to all the other places of interest which they had decided to visit, and then, having heard from Mr. Dalken and his two companions that they were not to wait for them, the five members of the party at Flagstaff decided to go on to Grand Canyon, where they expected to meet Mrs. Alexander and Algy.
They heard from Mr. Barnes the last day of their stay in Flagstaff, and were pleased to learn that he was recovering quickly from his injury. Then they bid the hotel people good-by and started for Grand Canyon. They arrived at a time of year when few tourists think of visiting Arizona and its wonders. But they found that the first of December was the most wonderful of all seasons in the year to see the Canyon and the surrounding scenery. It beggared all attempts at description, when the snow flurried over the great abyss, or the sun reflected a million points of colored lights from the icy crags and the frozen drips of water!
Mrs. Alexander, during the interval she had spent alone at El Tovar, had wearied herself with showing off all the costumes she had brought in her trunks; also she had had a most glorious time in smiling engagingly at every man who had registered at the hotel. It made no difference to this rejuvenated lady whether the male guests were young, or middle-aged, or decrepit—her attentions were bestowed alike with impartiality.
It had, therefore, become a standing joke with the hotel employees whenever a newcomer made his appearance, to wager just what he might do to escape the flirtatious lady. But no member on that staff dreamed that the lady was the wife of the plain, little millionaire from Denver.
She had been determined to play without marital limitations; consequently, learning that Algy had not appeared there, she had registered at the El Tovar as “Miss Alexandria Marget,” and had thought herself most clever at the way she had changed her name.
When her grown daughter, Dodo, appeared upon the scene, however, Miss Marget could not explain her former masquerade. And the hotel clerks were chagrined to find that they had been making sport of one of the wealthiest women in the west. Dodo, not aware of her mother’s pastime, paid little heed to the humble attendants at the hotel.
The first day at Grand Canyon was devoted to visits to the Hopi and Navajo Indian settlement, where the girls watched with interest the handicraft workers in beads, willow, hide, and other curious things.
The second day at Grand Canyon, the weather became mild enough to permit a number of visitors to ride down the Bright Angel trail, and great preparations were made for spending the day and night down below, then coming up by another trail.
“You never expect to reach the bottom alive, do you?” demanded Mrs. Alexander, now restored to her rightful title.
“Why, of course!” retorted Dodo, laughingly. “It’s just as safe now as in July—and there isn’t a flake of snow to be had yet, so there is no danger along the trail. We had a far more dangerous time on going through the aspen brakes on Humphrey’s Peak.”
“Well, you foolish people may risk your necks if you choose, but don’t ask me to do so, too!” declared Mrs. Alexander.
“You dislike riding, anyway, Ma, so it’s just as well if you remain above,” returned Dodo, hoping to be agreeable, yet hailing the news that her mother would not ride down with them.
The plan was perfected that evening, and the guides asked those who wished to take the trip to be ready in warm riding togs about eight in the morning. Then, after all was settled, a group of new arrivals poured into the hotel. With the strangers, Mrs. Alexander recognized a man whom she had seen at the Colorado Springs hotel. He was reputed to be a retired banker from San Francisco, but he everlastingly played golf while staying at the resort, and she had had no opportunity to try her charms to captivate him. Now, however, he had no chance to play his favorite game, so she planned to play her own little game with him.
Hearing that he would be one of the party to ride down Bright Angel, Mrs. Alexander suddenly changed her mind and said she, too, had decided to go with the rest. When she learned later, that the trip had been extended to take in Ribbon Falls, and the nights’ rest at Phantom Ranch, she wavered in her decision.
“How do I know I will have a decent bed at an old ranchhouse?” wondered she, debating what would be best to do.
But the impressive appearance of the man she had watched and admired at the Springs, proved too much for her dread of going without comforts. Hence, she was up soon after the call-boy rapped at her door in the morning, and then she started to dress herself in a (what she considered) fetching tourist costume. She was still arranging her hair, when Dodo knocked upon her door and called impatiently to her.
“Goodness, Ma! We’re all through breakfast; it’s time to start, and you’re still prinking as for a ball! Hurry up!”
“I’m coming!” exclaimed the lady, but she failed to do so, until a third urgent call from her daughter brought her forth.
Mrs. Courtney and the girls were clothed in warm and serviceable riding habits, but Mrs. Alexander had sacrificed comfort to her desire to appear stylish. She wore a very youthful and natty outfit, better adapted to screen work in Hollywood than a ride to the very bottom of Grand Canyon in December.
When the other members of the large party were notified that the tardy one had arrived and they could get upon the horses, Mrs. Alexander maneuvered to edge her horse quite close to the one which carried the man she wished to captivate. This gentleman, however, paid scanty attention to any one—he seemed to be thinking seriously of the beast he had to ride. Finally Mrs. Alexander played one of her trump cards.
“Oh, Mr. Guide! It would be much pleasanter for every one in this party if you would introduce us to each other. Seeing we are to be members of one large family, as it were, for the next few days, don’t you think we ought to know by what names to address each other?”
One of the guides then rode up and introduced each one in turn, calling that one by name; and the others signified their delight at being introduced in this wholesale manner. When the man who was responsible for Mrs. Alexander’s being one of the party was introduced as Mr. Atchison, the others bowed to him. Mrs. Alexander did more, however; she had, by degrees, worked her beast over so that she was quite near the magnet to which she wished to attach herself; then when Mr. Atchison rode out of line for a moment to be introduced, she made her horse appear to start suddenly—thus she urged the animal into the place just vacated.
Mr. Atchison saw his former place was taken, and he sat waiting for the next man in turn to be introduced. Then he took that place, which brought him directly behind Mrs. Alexander. This was what she had hoped for, and, having succeeded in her little trick, she was delighted with herself.
The signal was given to start down the trail, and the guides warned every one about keeping close in the saddles, and letting the mounts seek their own foothold. No one was to dream of jumping off while on the down trail, nor were they to pull up the horses and halt the line behind. Other advices were given, and then the long cavalcade passed on its way.
Mrs. Alexander lost no time in following up the advantage she had secured by taking another’s place in the line, and she chattered like a magpie all the way from the hotel to the rim of the canyon, turning constantly in the saddle to send a look at her admired follower—literally speaking.
Mr. Atchison had little need to reply, since the lady kept up a rapid-fire conversation which called for no answers. The burden of her information seemed to be about the days spent at Colorado Springs, when she envied him those marvelous shots! Had she known that the gentleman addressed was thinking of other things while she prattled, she might have changed her tactics.
When they came to Bright Angel Trail, and those in front had passed over the rim, Mr. Atchison suddenly woke up.
“Madam, you’d better keep your face turned in the direction you’re riding, or you may never have time to regret the error,” said he, seriously, seeing Mrs. Alexander’s head turned towards him.
This silenced her for a time, and she paid strict attention to the descent, but she planned at the same time just what she would do when the party reached the first dismounting place to rest.
Soon afterwards, Mrs. Alexander found, in all seriousness, enough to think of to keep her from sending one backward look at Mr. Atchison, or, indeed, to continue planning what she might do when the tourists reached Indian Gardens. Like most shallow persons, she was dreadfully afraid of hurting herself, or of dying. Consequently, when her mount seemed to edge too near the very rim of death, she shrieked aloud in terror, or tried to drive the wise horse closer to the wall. The result of these frantic actions were shown in torn skirts, skinned thighs and scraped boots, where she rubbed against the flinty walls of the Canyon.
After many trying incidents for Mrs. Alexander, and the impatient advices forced from Mr. Atchison, who considered the hysterical woman would have been better off in bed than on this trip, they reached Indian Gardens and were glad to get out of the saddles and relax.
Mrs. Alexander instantly fastened herself to her latest “ideal,” by taking his arm and thanking him profusely for his care and concern over her on the way thus far. She gazed, with what she fondly believed to be a soulful look, up into his face, and he, prosaic man, laughed aloud at her gushing manner.
“Why, my dear woman, I only warned you of dangers, because it would be so unpleasant to have the whole crowd depressed by having you slide out of sight over the rim of the trail. I came here with my friends to enjoy myself, not to attend a post mortem. And I earnestly advise you to remain here at the Gardens, until we return up-trail and take you back,” suggested Mr. Atchison.
Mrs. Alexander failed to hear the sarcasm in the speech, and she may have continued her blandishments had the gentleman not released his arm by wriggling it away from her hold and instantly excusing himself. He then hurried over to the place where the guides were preparing luncheon for the party, and there he seemed deeply engaged in conversing with two of them. Mrs. Alexander watched and saw him pass a bill to one of the men, and the two guides addressed nodded their heads, and, grinning, seemed to agree to a proposition.
Mr. Atchison then mingled with others, and found his friends with whom he had arrived at the hotel late the night before. Dodo and her friends now joined Mrs. Alexander so that she had no new opportunity to appeal to her beau-ideal.
After the rest period had passed, the guides called all to mount once more. One guide seemed to have difficulty in adjusting the saddle on Mrs. Alexander’s horse, and this delayed her in finding her place in the line. It became necessary for the guide to call another one to aid him in fastening the straps, and, finally, Mrs. Alexander found she would have to ride at the very end of the line; one of the guides, now attending to her saddle-straps, being the last member of the party. The other guide was just in advance of her.
“Why! this isn’t my place, at all!” cried Mrs. Alexander, angrily, seeing Mr. Atchison riding with his friends.
“There are no reserved places, Madam,” replied the guide.
Mrs. Alexander turned to look at the man, and then she recognized the guide who had taken the money from Mr. Atchison.
“That’s what you say, but how about selling places?” snapped she, beginning to understand that the man she wished to captivate had purchased his way out of her reach.
“Beware, Madam! Your mount is slipping while you twist and turn like this,” exclaimed the guide, warningly.
Since the animals had started on the down trail again, there was nothing to be done about recovering her first place in the line. But Mrs. Alexander was not one to be so readily turned from her object. If she could not succeed in one way, she would try in other ways. And there was no one to warn Mr. Atchison of this.
Just below Indian Gardens the leading guide turned off the Bright Angel Trail and followed the Tonto Trail, which led down to the bottom of the Canyon, and finally, known as the Kaibab Trail, ran across the Colorado, via the great suspension bridge. Farther on they reached Phantom Ranch, which was located in Bright Angel Canyon.
The trip had been most enjoyable to every one but that one who had a chip upon her shoulder. And finally, when the party dismounted at Phantom Ranch for the night, they were tired from the long ride, but eager to enjoy supper and an evening indoors.
Mrs. Alexander had planned to square herself with Mr. Atchison that evening, but she was so worn out from riding all day that the unusual exercise made her only too glad to crawl into bed. She ordered her supper sent to her room, and she also commandeered a maid to rub her aching bones with liniment. That proved to be an unusual bonanza for the servant, because Mrs. Alexander never was niggardly in rewarding dependents, and this girl had eased her distress to such a degree that she lavished money upon her in return.
Early the following morning the guides roused their party and urged them to make haste and get along the trail again. Mrs. Alexander found herself so stiff and sore, however, that she could not get up. Try as she would to move her joints and make her limbs obey her order, she found she lacked power to do so. Hence it was found that she would have to remain at Phantom Ranch that day and rest in order to continue back up-trail to El Tovar Hotel the next morning.
Naturally she rebelled against nature’s demand, and she proved she could be a disagreeable guest. But Mr. Atchison had acquitted himself bravely, as well he might, seeing he was to be freed from tiresome attentions all that day.
In a spirit of mischief, as well as of freedom, he sent a large box of bon bons and several magazines to Mrs. Alexander’s room with his card, upon which he wrote “regrets.”
Of course, Mrs. Alexander decided that the gentleman was heart-broken because she would not be with him that day, and she smiled, even as she groaned with aching bones; then she turned to open the box of candy.
The season for crowds of tourists having long been passed, the Ranch host had not stocked up with fresh bon bons. The box sent to Mrs. Alexander had been discovered back upon a shelf of the cupboard, and no one knew how long it had been hiding there. Consequently, the first bite in the chocolate-covered cocoanut bar caused Mrs. Alexander to get rid of it quicker than she had bitten into it. The cocoanut had soured, and the lady was finicky about her candies.
That box of sweets proved to be as genuine a failure as the love-affair Mrs. Alexander had planned between the donor of the bon bons and herself. With a deep sigh, she now turned her attention to the magazines. Here, at least, she would find pastime in whiling away the lonesome hours that day!
The first magazine she took up was the Popular Science Monthly, having, as advertised, all the pictures of recent inventions and scientific discoveries. This periodical she flung across the room—what had she in common with such stuff!
The second magazine was found to be the Literary Digest. But it was several months old, and not an item in it about fashions or society gossip! This paper followed the first magazine—across the room.
The third and last copy turned out to be a more fortunate choice of literature for this lady. It was a popular love-story magazine, but it had been well-thumbed by guests during the year it had been upon the table of the inn, and Mrs. Alexander scrutinized its torn pages doubtfully, as she turned them over daintily.
Desire overcame doubt, however, and soon she was gloating over the success of a beautiful young shop-girl who had won an earl’s son for her husband. This was the kind of “literature” Mrs. Alexander preferred, and she forgot her aches and loneliness, while devouring the romances of impossible lovers.
Meanwhile Polly and her friends reached Ribbon Falls, and enjoyed the trip immensely. Mr. Atchison found Mrs. Courtney and her charges very agreeable, and the two parties became very friendly before they started on the return ride to the Ranch where they would spend the second night.
The weather continued warm and delightful, and the guides declared they had never known such a prolonged Indian Summer since the beginning of the World War. If it remained warm and temperate as it was then they would be able to conduct visitors down the trails of the Canyon all winter.
Mr. Atchison showed a marked preference for Mrs. Courtney’s society that day, and Polly nudged her friends to have them watch the grey-haired man singe his heart at the flame.
“Not much flame about Mrs. Courtney,” retorted Jack, laughing at Polly’s remark.
“Well, I used that saying because it is common, but I suppose I should have said he’d freeze his heart at the ice-berg,” was her laughing correction.
“That’s better!” agreed Eleanor. “Any one who can resist the attractions of our Dalky, as Mrs. Courtney has done, must have a cake of ice where her heart should be.”
“That remains to be seen,” remarked Dodo, wisely. “There hasn’t been opportunity for the two to get acquainted this trip, but wait till this mining scheme ends, then we shall see!”
“Meanwhile, let that grey-haired man keep your friend in practise, eh?” chuckled Jack, watching the man who was so attentive to the lady under discussion.
On the ride back to the Ranch, Mr. Atchison hovered about Mrs. Courtney, and when, at last, they rode up to the house, he insisted upon helping her out of the saddle, and then assisting her to the porch.
Mrs. Alexander had dressed late that afternoon, and was waiting for the return of the riders, hurrying out to the porch the moment she heard the hoofs of the horses. She was just in time to see her whilom beau smile foolishly at Mrs. Courtney’s thanks, and then she fixed him with her eye.
“I trust you had a pleasant ride, Mrs. Courtney,” began Mrs. Alexander, still staring the mature admirer out of countenance. “I preferred the solitude of this ranch to the troublesome attention of elderly men! I had quite enough of that ridiculous sort of nonsense on the ride down. What a pity old men never know when they are passé!”
With this thrust, Mrs. Alexander took Mrs. Courtney’s arm and led her safely away from the “nonsense” of passé admirers.