The storm that had threatened blackened the sky, and gray scudding

clouds buried the canyon rims, and long veils of rain and sleet began

to descend. The wind roared through the pines, drowning the roar of the

brook. Quite suddenly the air grew piercingly cold. Carley had forgotten

her gloves, and her pockets had not been constructed to protect hands.

Glenn drew her into a sheltered nook where a rock jutted out from

overhead and a thicket of young pines helped break the onslaught of the

wind. There Carley sat on a cold rock, huddled up close to Glenn, and

wearing to a state she knew would be misery. Glenn not only seemed

content; he was happy. "This is great," he said. His coat was open, his

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hands uncovered, and he watched the storm and listened with manifest

delight. Carley hated to betray what a weakling she was, so she resigned

herself to her fate, and imagined she felt her fingers numbing into ice,

and her sensitive nose slowly and painfully freezing.

The storm passed, however, before Carley sank into abject and open

wretchedness. She managed to keep pace with Glenn until exercise

warmed her blood. At every little ascent in the trail she found herself

laboring to get her breath. There was assuredly evidence of abundance

of air in this canyon, but somehow she could not get enough of it. Glenn

detected this and said it was owing to the altitude. When they reached

the cabin Carley was wet, stiff, cold, exhausted. How welcome the

shelter, the open fireplace! Seeing the cabin in new light, Carley had

the grace to acknowledge to herself that, after all, it was not so bad.

"Now for a good fire and then dinner," announced Glenn, with the air of

one who knew his ground.

"Can I help?" queried Carley.

"Not today. I do not want you to spring any domestic science on me now."

Carley was not averse to withholding her ignorance. She watched Glenn

with surpassing curiosity and interest. First he threw a quantity of

wood upon the smoldering fire.

"I have ham and mutton of my own raising," announced Glenn, with

importance. "Which would you prefer?"

"Of your own raising. What do you mean?" queried Carley.

"My dear, you've been so steeped in the fog of the crowd that you are

blind to the homely and necessary things of living. I mean I have here

meat of both sheep and hog that I raised myself. That is to say, mutton

and ham. Which do you like?"




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