Rainbow Trail, The The. Zane Grey

      

      THE RAINBOW TRAIL

      By

      ZANE GREY

      This edition published by Dreamscape Media LLC, 2018

      www.dreamscapeab.com * [email protected]

      1417 Timberwolf Drive, Holland, OH 43528

      877.983.7326

       About Zane Grey:

      Pearl Zane Grey (January 31, 1872 – October 23, 1939) was an American author and dentist best known for his popular adventure novels and stories associated with the Western genre in literature and the arts; he idealized the American frontier. Riders of the Purple Sage (1912) was his best-selling book. In addition to the commercial success of his printed works, they had second lives and continuing influence when adapted as films and television productions. His novels and short stories have been adapted into 112 films, two television episodes, and a television series, Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater.

      Source: Wikipedia

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

       FOREWORD

       CHAPTER I. RED LAKE

       CHAPTER II. THE SAGI

       CHAPTER III. KAYENTA

       CHAPTER IV. NEW FRIENDS

       CHAPTER V. ON THE TRAIL

       CHAPTER VI. IN THE HIDDEN VALLEY

       CHAPTER VII. SAGO-LILIES

       CHAPTER VIII. THE HOGAN OF NAS TA BEGA

       CHAPTER IX. IN THE DESERT CRUCIBLE

       CHAPTER X. STONEBRIDGE

       CHAPTER XI. AFTER THE TRIAL

       CHAPTER XII. THE REVELATION

       CHAPTER XIII. THE STORY OF SURPRISE VALLEY

       CHAPTER XIV. THE NAVAJO

       CHAPTER XV. WILD JUSTICE

       CHAPTER XVI. SURPRISE VALLEY

       CHAPTER XVII. THE TRAIL TO NONNEZOSHE

       CHAPTER XVIII. AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW

       CHAPTER XIX. THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO

       CHAPTER XX. WILLOW SPRINGS

       EPILOGUE

      FOREWORD

      The spell of the desert comes back to me, as it always will come. I see the veils, like purple smoke, in the canyon, and I feel the silence. And it seems that again I must try to pierce both and to get at the strange wild life of the last American wilderness—wild still, almost, as it ever was.

      While this romance is an independent story, yet readers of “Riders of the Purple Sage” will find in it an answer to a question often asked.

      I wish to say also this story has appeared serially in a different form in one of the monthly magazines under the title of “The Desert Crucible.” ZANE GREY.

       June, 1915.

      CHAPTER I.

      RED LAKE

      Shefford halted his tired horse and gazed with slowly realizing eyes.

      A league-long slope of sage rolled and billowed down to Red Lake, a dry red basin, denuded and glistening, a hollow in the desert, a lonely and desolate door to the vast, wild, and broken upland beyond.

      All day Shefford had plodded onward with the clear horizon-line a thing unattainable; and for days before that he had ridden the wild bare flats and climbed the rocky desert benches. The great colored reaches and steps had led endlessly onward and upward through dim and deceiving distance.

      A hundred miles of desert travel, with its mistakes and lessons and intimations, had not prepared him for what he now saw. He beheld what seemed a world that knew only magnitude. Wonder and awe fixed his gaze, and thought remained aloof. Then that dark and unknown northland flung a menace at him. An irresistible call had drawn him to this seamed and peaked border of Arizona, this broken battlemented wilderness of Utah upland; and at first sight they frowned upon him, as if to warn him not to search for what lay hidden beyond the ranges. But Shefford thrilled with both fear and exultation. That was the country which had been described to him. Far across the red valley, far beyond the ragged line of black mesa and yellow range, lay the wild canyon with its haunting secret.

      Red Lake must be his Rubicon. Either he must enter the unknown to seek, to strive, to find, or turn back and fail and never know and be always haunted. A friend’s strange story had prompted his singular journey; a beautiful rainbow with its mystery and promise had decided him. Once in his life he had answered a wild call to the kingdom of adventure within him, and once in his life he had been happy. But here in the horizon-wide face of that up-flung and cloven desert he grew cold; he faltered even while he felt more fatally drawn.

      As if impelled Shefford started his horse down the sandy trail, but he checked his former far-reaching gaze. It was the month of April, and the waning sun lost heat and brightness. Long shadows crept down the slope ahead of him and the scant sage deepened its gray. He watched the lizards shoot like brown streaks across the sand, leaving their slender tracks; he heard the rustle of pack-rats as they darted into their brushy homes; the whir of a low-sailing hawk startled