Brighty of the Grand Canyon by Marguerite Henry

Author:Marguerite Henry [Henry, Marguerite]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
ISBN: 9781442488038
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2012-12-11T08:00:00+00:00

BRIGHTY, B.A.

HE WHEELED, almost colliding with a white mule. And above the mule’s face, looking between his ears, were the twinkling eyes of Uncle Jimmy Owen. Brighty’s breath snortled. He pawed and pranced as the men on muleback laughingly rode herd on him until the whole little company was in among the cottonwoods, away from the roar of the river.

Uncle Jim swung a leg over his mule’s head and slid out of his saddle. He went to Brighty and stood eye-to-eye with him. “Our whole canyon’s changin’, feller.” His fingers worked gently in Brighty’s mane. “Old Timer wouldn’t like this newfangled bridge. Traffic comin’ and goin’. And folks pokin’ and pryin’ into his life.”

He turned to a big-built man sitting a big horse. “Excuse me, Mr. Teddy,” he said, “for harkin’ to the past. Sure sign I’m gettin’ old, ain’t it?”

Theodore Roosevelt smiled, flashing wide-set teeth. “It’s a natural feeling, Jim. We all buck change the way a mule bucks a strange load.”

He dismounted, then glanced in Brighty’s direction. “Isn’t that the same fellow . . .” He broke off his sentence in the middle. “Of course it is! Brighty! You probably don’t remember me. But I’ll never forget the day that wild cougar leaped on your back.”

Uncle Jim elbowed Brighty’s neck, and Brighty’s head gave a nod as if he remembered, too.

“Well, by George!” Mr. Roosevelt laughed. He turned to the other men who were gathering around. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Bright Angel, the gamest burro in the world.”

At Uncle Jim’s signal, Brighty nodded all around—to the government officials, to the engineers, and to the Governor of Arizona, too.

All the visitors bowed in mock dignity. They were feeling good after riding safely down the long trail. Now each took pride in tying his mule to a tree and pulling off the saddle without help from Uncle Jim.

Then they limbered up, stretching to relieve aching muscles. One by one they went off in different directions, as if the majesty of the canyon were a thing to worship alone.

When they came back they found Uncle Jim making camp in the small spot shut in by the cottonwood trees. He had coffee simmering on a fire and sticks sharpened for broiling lion steaks, and bread baking in a Dutch oven.

The night wind flowed down the canyon, and the men closed in around the fire while they ate their supper. Brighty joined them, his back against Uncle Jim, ready to accept any little handouts offered.

After their meal, Theodore Roosevelt polished his spectacles and settled himself in enjoyment of the blazing fire. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I’ve come a long way to dedicate the new bridge. You have asked me to be the first to cross it.”

He paused a moment, his eye looking back up the winding trail he had come. “But,” he went on, “as I followed our guide down the twenty-one miles from the North Rim, I had time to do some thinking.”

The others nodded as if their minds had been busy, too.

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