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Oh, pshaw! It was raining. Johnny Blossom turned a scowling face toward the window. Just what one might expect—to have it rain the very first day of vacation! It always did, always. Funny kind of rain, anyhow—coming down in a regular slant. Perfectly horrid. He had planned to do so much today—be “boatman,” for instance. Bob got up early in order to see the Canyon at sunrise the morning after Steve Whitney went away, but found that in comparison to the sunset it was tame. Yet so inspiring was it that he was glad he had taken the trouble. The panorama spread before his eyes was one of which no other country could boast. Bob had seen pictures of it, had read about it, and had been taught about it from his geography, but nothing that he had read or heard or learned had given him even a faint idea of the glory of the thing as it actually was, no matter what time of the day it was seen. This time the answer was no—once was enough. So Bob, determined to get as much fun as possible out of his enforced stay at the Canyon, started out alone and joined the group of tourists in front of the hotel. They were already preparing to make the descent. He decided to walk rather than trust to one of the funny fat little mules which were provided for the visitors who were too stout or too lazy to use the means of locomotion given them by nature..

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“Why were you fighting?” “Oh, I went to the Mexican bunkhouses and told Miguel’s bunch that he’d sent me to tell ’em to meet him somewheres up the river. I sent ’em just as far away as I could from the place trouble was likely to happen without letting ’em get suspicious. They slipped out one at a time before you doubled the guards, Mr. Taylor,” he finished with a smile. “We could have sent the horse in to the young gentleman,” he said, with extreme politeness. They had finished their supper, when they heard a great noise, and the merchant, weeping, said farewell to his poor daughter, for he knew it was the Beast. Beauty could not help shuddering when she saw the dreadful shape approaching; but she did her best not to give way to her fear, and when the Beast asked her if it was of her own free will that she had come, she told him, trembling, that it was so. "You are very good, and I am much obliged to you," said the Beast. "Good man, to-morrow morning you will leave, and do not venture ever to come here again." "Good-bye, Beast," replied Beauty, and the Beast immediately retired. "Alas! my daughter," said the merchant, clasping Beauty in his arms, "I am half dead with fright. Listen to me, and leave me here." "No, my father," said Beauty, without faltering. "You will depart to-morrow morning, and you will leave me under Heaven's protection, maybe I shall find pity and help."[1They retired to rest, thinking that they would have no sleep that night; but no sooner were they in bed than their eyes closed. In her dreams there appeared to Beauty a lady, who said to her, "I have pleasure in the goodness of your heart, Beauty; your good action in giving your life to save that of your father will not be without its reward." Beauty told her father next morning of her dream, and although it afforded him some consolation, it did not prevent his loud cries of grief when at last he was forced to bid good-bye to his dear daughter..