The Canyon of Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A

explore. Things you might be willing to share; anecdotes, things you’ve seen, all that.”
    Skye sensed that Mercer was driving toward some goal but so far, it wasn’t very plain. “I imagine you’ll find plenty of material, sir, just by observation.”
    Mercer leaned forward. “What especially interests me, Mister Skye, is the secret rituals, the nighttime cults, the things that would affront European sensibilities. It’s time for Europe to see how the rest of the world lives and thinks. Why, some of the things I witnessed on previous trips to Africa I was forced to describe in Latin in order to pass muster with the royal censors. You get the idea, eh?”
    Skye nodded, wondering about the man.
    â€œActually, I would like to invite you over for some gin and bitters when the sun is over the yardarm. I always carry plenty on my expeditions to ward off the malaria. I’ve a few canvas camp chairs, and then, over a tonic or two, we can see how this rustic world works.
    â€œI do my research, Mister Skye. In St. Louis I talked to several men of the mountains, inquiring what to look for. To a
man, they told me that the Crows are the most lascivious of all the tribes. So I came here! Where better to get a great story?”
    Skye listened, startled.
    â€œWhy, fidelity is unheard of,” Mercer continued. “And a maiden can scarcely get firewood in the forest without being waylaid by half a dozen swains. And even grandmothers tell stories that would make a sailor blush. It’s true, isn’t it? I want to see it firsthand, record it, lock it in my journal for future use. That’s what I’m after. And that’s where you come in. You know these people. You can introduce me. You can take me to their rituals, help me befriend them. Tell me where these bacchanals take place. That’s where you can earn a pretty penny, eh?”
    All the ship’s bells were clanging in Skye’s head.

five
    A lmost before Skye could respond to Mercer’s probing, the man was off in a new direction.
    â€œMister Skye, they told me that the Yellowstone tumbles over two great waterfalls up there; magnificent falls, scarcely seen by white men. Show me a falls like that, let me measure it and sketch it and I’ll have a story. Take me where white men have not been. Take me into that forbidding land of shadows and forests and monster bears where no European has ever set foot, and I’ll turn it into something. I’m told there’s a geyser up there that blows a hundred feet into the air, and goes off once an hour, and a man could set a clock by it. That and the falls and grizzlies ten feet tall and hot springs where a man can take the best bath he’s ever had.”
    â€œThat can all be done on horseback. It’s not wagon country.”
    â€œOf course not! I’m sure I could scarcely get a pack mule in there. This wagon, sir, is simply a home base, a portable station where we might resupply. It’s been keenly outfitted. I took
counsel from a dozen men in St. Louis, friends of yours such as Davey Mitchell, Broken-Hand Fitzpatrick, the Chouteau family, eh? Preparation, that’s the key to everything. They all advised me.”
    â€œYou were in good hands, then.”
    â€œAh, Mister Skye. My list! You should see my list. There’s a medicine wheel in the mountains north of here. Very mysterious. I must see it. I hear it’s the work of ancient ones and has something to do with astronomy. Maybe like Stonehenge, fitted out to reveal the equinoxes or the solstices. The newspapers love items like that. I can sell it to the Times for a pretty penny. And I’m told there’s a shy tribe called Sheepeaters up there, now you see them, now you don’t. Like the African pygmies or bushmen. They’re watching you even if you’re not watching them. There’s a few stories I’m after. Interview a Sheepeater and I’ll sell to half the