"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

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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.




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