"Flo, I've come to wish you happiness," replied Carley, very low.
Was it the same Flo? This seemed more of a woman--strange now--white and
strained--beautiful, eager, questioning. A cry of gladness burst from
her. Carley felt herself enveloped in strong close clasp--and then a
warm, quick kiss of joy, It shocked her, yet somehow thrilled. Sure was
the welcome here. Sure was the strained situation, also, but the voice
rang too glad a note for Carley. It touched her deeply, yet she could
not understand. She had not measured the depth of Western friendship.
"Have you--seen Glenn?" queried Flo, breathlessly.
"Oh no, indeed not," replied Carley, slowly gaining composure. The
nervous agitation of these women had stilled her own. "I just rode up
the trail. Where is he?"
"He was here--a moment ago," panted Flo. "Oh, Carley, we sure are
locoed. ... Why, we only heard an hour ago--that you were at Deep
Lake.... Charley rode in. He told us.... I thought my heart would break.
Poor Glenn! When he heard it.... But never mind me. Jump your horse and
run to West Fork!"
The spirit of her was like the strength of her arms as she hurried
Carley across the porch and shoved her down the steps.
"Climb on and run, Carley," cried Flo. "If you only knew how glad he'll
be that you came!"
Carley leaped into the saddle and wheeled the mustang. But she had no
answer for the girl's singular, almost wild exultance. Then like a
shot the spirited mustang was off down the lane. Carley wondered with
swelling heart. Was her coming such a wondrous surprise--so unexpected
and big in generosity--something that would make Kilbourne as glad as it
had seemed to make Flo? Carley thrilled to this assurance.
Down the lane she flew. The red walls blurred and the sweet wind whipped
her face. At the trail she swerved the mustang, but did not check his
gait. Under the great pines he sped and round the bulging wall. At the
rocky incline leading to the creek she pulled the fiery animal to a
trot. How low and clear the water! As Carley forded it fresh cool drops
splashed into her face. Again she spurred her mount and again trees and
walls rushed by. Up and down the yellow bits of trail--on over the brown
mats of pine needles--until there in the sunlight shone the little gray
log cabin with a tall form standing in the door. One instant the canyon
tilted on end for Carley and she was riding into the blue sky. Then some
magic of soul sustained her, so that she saw clearly. Reaching the cabin
she reined in her mustang.