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she looked out on the ocher…colored slope that ran down
several hundred feet to the stream； and this hot rock was
sparsely grown with dwarf trees。 Their colors were so pale
that the shadows of the little trees on the rock stood out
sharper than the trees themselves。 When Thea first came；
the chokecherry bushes were in blossom； and the scent of
them was almost sickeningly sweet after a shower。 At the
very bottom of the canyon； along the stream； there was a
thread of bright； flickering； golden…green；cottonwood
seedlings。 They made a living； chattering screen behind
which she took her bath every morning。
Thea went down to the stream by the Indian water
trail。 She had found a bathing…pool with a sand bottom；
where the creek was damned by fallen trees。 The climb
back was long and steep； and when she reached her little
house in the cliff she always felt fresh delight in its com…
fort and inaccessibility。 By the time she got there； the
woolly red…and…gray blankets were saturated with sun…
light； and she sometimes fell asleep as soon as she stretched
her body on their warm surfaces。 She used to wonder at
her own inactivity。 She could lie there hour after hour in
the sun and listen to the strident whir of the big locusts；
and to the light； ironical laughter of the quaking asps。 All
her life she had been hurrying and sputtering； as if she
had been born behind time and had been trying to catch
up。 Now； she reflected； as she drew herself out long upon
the rugs； it was as if she were waiting for something to
catch up with her。 She had got to a place where she was
out of the stream of meaningless activity and undirected
effort。
Here she could lie for half a day undistracted； holding
pleasant and incomplete conceptions in her mindalmost
in her hands。 They were scarcely clear enough to be called
ideas。 They had something to do with fragrance and color
and sound； but almost nothing to do with words。 She was
singing very little now； but a song would go through her
head all morning； as a spring keeps welling up； and it was
like a pleasant sensation indefinitely prolonged。 It was
much more like a sensation than like an idea； or an act of
remembering。 Music had never come to her in that sensu…
ous form before。 It had always been a thing to be struggled
with； had always brought anxiety and exaltation and cha…
grinnever content and indolence。 Thea began to won…
der whether people could not utterly lose the power to
work； as they can lose their voice or their memory。 She
had always been a little drudge； hurrying from one task to
anotheras if it mattered！ And now her power to think
seemed converted into a power of sustained sensation。 She
could become a mere receptacle for heat； or become a color；
like the bright lizards that darted about on the hot stones
outside her door； or she could become a continuous repeti…
tion of sound； like the cicadas。
III
THE faculty of observation was never highly developed
in Thea Kronborg。 A great deal escaped her eye as
she passed through the world。 But the things which were
for her； she saw； she experienced them physically and re…
membered them as if they had once been a part of herself。
The roses she used to see in the florists' shops in Chicago
were merely roses。 But when she thought of the moon…
flowers that grew over Mrs。 Tellamantez's door； it was as
if she had been that vine and had opened up in white flow…
ers every night。 There were memories of light on the sand
hills； of masses of prickly…pear blossoms she had found in
the desert in early childhood； of the late afternoon sun pour…
ing through the grape leaves and the mint bed in Mrs。
Kohler's garden； which she would never lose。 These recol…
lections were a part of her mind and personality。 In Chicago
she had got almost nothing that went into her subconscious
self and took root there。 But here； in Panther Canyon；
there were again things which seemed destined for her。
Panther Canyon was the home of innumerable swallows。
They built nests in the wall far above the hollow groove in
which Thea's own rock chamber lay。 They seldom ven…
tured above the rim of the canyon； to the flat； wind…swept
tableland。 Their world was the blue air…river between the
canyon walls。 In that blue gulf the arrow…shaped birds
swam all day long； with only an occasional movement of
the wings。 The only sad thing about them was their tim…
idity； the way in which they lived their lives between the
echoing cliffs and never dared to rise out of the shadow of
the canyon walls。 As they swam past her door； Thea often
felt how easy it would be to dream one's life out in some
cleft in the world。
From the ancient dwelling there came always a dignified；
unobtrusive sadness； now stronger； now fainter；like
the aromatic smell which the dwarf cedars gave out in the
sun；but always present； a part of the air one breathed。
At night； when Thea dreamed about the canyon；or in
the early morning when she hurried toward it； anticipating
it；her conception of it was of yellow rocks baking in
sunlight； the swallows； the cedar smell； and that peculiar
sadnessa voice out of the past； not very loud； that went
on saying a few simple things to the solitude eternally。
Standing up in her lodge； Thea could with her thumb
nail dislodge flakes of carbon from the rock roofthe
cooking…smoke of the Ancient People。 They were that
near！ A timid； nest…building folk； like the swallows。 How
often Thea remembered Ray Kennedy's moralizing about
the cliff cities。 He used to say that he never felt the hard…
ness of the human struggle or the sadness of history as he
felt it among those ruins。 He used to say； too； that it made
one feel an obligation to do one's best。 On the first day
that Thea climbed the water trail she began to have intui…
tions about the women who had worn the path； and who
had spent so great a part of their lives going up and down
it。 She found herself trying to walk as they must have
walked； with a feeling in her feet and knees and loins which
she had never known before；which must have come up
to her out of the accustomed dust of that rocky trail。 She
could feel the weight of an Indian baby hanging to her
back as she climbed。
The empty houses； among which she wandered in the
afternoon； the blanketed one in which she lay all morning；
were haunted by certain fears and desires； feelings about
warmth and cold and water and physical strength。 It
seemed to Thea that a certain understanding of those
old people came up to her out of the rock shelf on
which she lay； that certain feelings were transmitted to her；
suggestions that were simple； insistent； and monotonous；
like the beating of Indian drums。 They were not expressi…
ble in words； but seemed rather to translate themselves
into attitudes of body； into degrees of muscular tension or
relaxation； the naked strength of youth； sharp as the sun…
shafts； the crouching timorousness of age； the sullenness of
women who waited for their captors。 At the first turning
of the canyon there was a half…ruined tower of yellow
masonry； a watch…tower upon which the young me