〃Yes；　both　the　rideand　you；〃　flashed　Carley；　contrarily。　She　knew　he　had　meant　the　deep…walled　canyon　with　its　brooding　solitude。
  〃But　I　want　you　to　love　Arizona；〃　he　said。
  〃Glenn；　I'm　a　faithful　creature。　You　should　be　glad　of　that。　I　love　New　York。〃
  〃Very　well；　then。　Arizona　to　New　York；〃　he　said；　lightly　brushing　her　cheek　with　his　lips。　And　swerving　back　into　his　saddle；　he　spurred　his　horse　and　called　back　over　his　shoulder：　〃That　mustang　and　Flo　have　beaten　me　many　a　time。　Come　on。〃
  It　was　not　so　much　his　words　as　his　tone　and　look　that　roused　Carley。　Had　he　resented　her　loyalty　to　the　city　of　her　nativity？　Always　there　was　a　little　rift　in　the　lute。　Had　his　tone　and　look　meant　that　Flo　might　catch　him　if　Carley　could　not？　Absurd　as　the　idea　was；　it　spurred　her　to　recklessness。　Her　mustang　did　not　need　any　more　than　to　know　she　wanted　him　to　run。　The　road　was　of　soft　yellow　earth　flanked　with　green　foliage　and　overspread　by　pines。　In　a　moment　she　was　racing　at　a　speed　she　had　never　before　half　attained　on　a　horse。　Down　the　winding　road　Glenn's　big　steed　sped；　his　head　low；　his　stride　tremendous；　his　action　beautiful。　But　Carley　saw　the　distance　between　them　diminishing。　Calico　was　overtaking　the　bay。　She　cried　out　in　the　thrilling　excitement　of　the　moment。　Glenn　saw　her　gaining　and　pressed　his　mount　to　greater　speed。　Still　he　could　not　draw　away　from　Calico。　Slowly　the　little　mustang　gained。　It　seemed　to　Carley　that　riding　him　required　no　effort　at　all。　And　at　such　fast　pace；　with　the　wind　roaring　in　her　ears；　the　walls　of　green　vague　and　continuous　in　her　sight；　the　sting　of　pine　tips　on　cheek　and　neck；　the　yellow　road　streaming　toward　her；　under　her；　there　rose　out　of　the　depths　of　her；　out　of　the　tumult　of　her　breast；　a　sense　of　glorious　exultation。　She　closed　in　on　Glenn。　From　the　flying　hoofs　of　his　horse　shot　up　showers　of　damp　sand　and　gravel　that　covered　Carley's　riding　habit　and　spattered　in　her　face。　She　had　to　hold　up　a　hand　before　her　eyes。　Perhaps　this　caused　her　to　lose　something　of　her　confidence；　or　her　swing　in　the　saddle；　for　suddenly　she　realized　she　was　not　riding　well。　The　pace　was　too　fast　for　her　inexperience。　But　nothing　could　have　stopped　her　then。　No　fear　or　awkwardness　of　hers　should　be　allowed　to　hamper　that　thoroughbred　mustang。　Carley　felt　that　Calico　understood　the　situation；　or　at　least　he　knew　he　could　catch　and　pass　this　big　bay　horse；　and　he　intended　to　do　it。　Carley　was　hard　put　to　it　to　hang　on　and　keep　the　flying　sand　from　blinding　her。
  When　Calico　drew　alongside　the　bay　horse　and　brought　Carley　breast　to　breast　with　Glenn；　and　then　inch　by　inch　forged　ahead　of　him；　Carley　pealed　out　an　exultant　cry。　Either　it　frightened　Calico　or　inspired　him；　for　he　shot　right　ahead　of　Glenn's　horse。　Then　he　lost　the　smooth；　wonderful　action。　He　seemed　hurtling　through　space　at　the　expense　of　tremendous　muscular　action。　Carley　could　feel　it。　She　lost　her　equilibrium。　She　seemed　rushing　through　a　blurred　green　and　black　aisle　of　the　forest　with　a　gale　in　her　face。　Then；　with　a　sharp　jolt；　a　break；　Calico　plunged　to　the　sand。　Carley　felt　herself　propelled　forward　out　of　the　saddle　into　the　air；　and　down　to　strike　with　a　sliding；　stunning　force　that　ended　in　sudden　dark　oblivion。
  Upon　recovering　consciousness　she　first　felt　a　sensation　of　oppression　in　her　chest　and　a　dull　numbness　of　her　whole　body。　When　she　opened　her　eyes　she　saw　Glenn　bending　over　her；　holding　her　head　on　his　knee。　A　wet；　cold；　reviving　sensation　evidently　came　from　the　handkerchief　with　which　he　was　mopping　her　face。
  〃Carley；　you　can't　be　hurtreally！〃　he　was　ejaculating；　in　eager　hope。　〃It　was　some　spill。　But　you　lit　on　the　sand　and　slid。　You　can't　be　hurt。〃
  The　look　of　his　eyes；　the　tone　of　his　voice；　the　feel　of　his　hands　were　such　that　Carley　chose　for　a　moment　to　pretend　to　be　very　badly　hurt　indeed。　It　was　worth　taking　a　header　to　get　so　much　from　Glenn　Kilbourne。　But　she　believed　she　had　suffered　no　more　than　a　severe　bruising　and　scraping。
  〃Glenndear；　〃　she　whispered；　very　low　and　very　eloquently。　〃I　thinkmy　backis　broken。　。　。　。　You'll　be　freesoon。〃
  Glenn　gave　a　terrible　start　and　his　face　turned　a　deathly　white。　He　burst　out　with　quavering；　inarticulate　speech。
  Carley　gazed　up　at　him　and　then　closed　her　eyes。　She　could　not　look　at　him　while　carrying　on　such　deceit。　Yet　the　sight　of　him　and　the　feel　of　him　then　were　inexpressibly　blissful　to　her。　What　she　needed　most　was　assurance　of　his　love。　She　had　it。　Beyond　doubt；　beyond　morbid　fancy；　the　truth　had　proclaimed　itself；　filling　her　heart　with　joy。
  Suddenly　she　flung　her　arms　up　around　his　neck。　〃OhGlenn！　It　was　too　good　a　chance　to　miss！　。　。　。　I'm　not　hurt　a　bit。〃
  CHAPTER　VII
  The　day　came　when　Carley　asked　Mrs。　Hutter：　〃Will　you　please　put　up　a　nice　lunch　for　Glenn　and　me？　I'm　going　to　walk　down　to　his　farm　where　he's　working；　and　surprise　him。〃
  〃That's　a　downright　fine　idea；〃　declared　Mrs。　Hutter；　and　forthwith　bustled　away　to　comply　with　Carley's　request。
  So　presently　Carley　found　herself　carrying　a　bountiful　basket　on　her　arm；　faring　forth　on　an　adventure　that　both　thrilled　and　depressed　her。　Long　before　this　hour　something　about　Glenn's　work　had　quickened　her　pulse　and　given　rise　to　an　inexplicable　admiration。　That　he　was　big　and　strong　enough　to　do　such　labor　made　her　proud；　that　he　might　want　to　go　on　doing　it　made　her　ponder　and　brood。
  The　morning　resembled　one　of　the　rare　Eastern　days　in　June；　when　the　air　appeared　flooded　by　rich　thick　amber　light。　Only　the　sun　here　was　hotter　and　the　shade　cooler。
  Carley　took　to　the　trail　below　where　West　Fork　emptied　its　golden…green　waters　into　Oak　Creek。　The　red　walls　seemed　to　dream　and　wait　under　the　blaze　of　the　sun；　the　heat　lay　like　a　blanket　over　the　still　foliage；　the　birds　were　quiet；　only　the　murmuring　stream　broke　the　silence　of　the　canyon。　Never　had　Carley　felt　more　the　isolation　and　solitude　of　Oak　Creek　Canyon。　Far　indeed　from　the　madding　crowd！　Only　Carley's　stubbornness　kept　her　from　acknowledging　the　sense　of　peace　that　enveloped　her…that　and　the　consciousness　of　her　own　discontent。　What　would　it　be　like　to　come　to　this　canyon…to　give　up　to　its　enchantments？　That；　like　many　another　disturbing　thought；　had　to　go　unanswered；　to　be　driven　into　the　closed　chambers　of　Carley's　mind；　there　to　germinate　subconsciously；　and　stalk　forth　some　day　to　overwhelm　her。
  The　trail　led　along　the　creek；　threading　a　maze　of　bowlders；　passing　into　the　shade　of　cottonwoods；　and　crossing　sun…flecked　patches　of　sand。　Carley's　every　step　seemed　to　become　slower。　Regrets　were　assailing　her。　Long　indeed　had　she　overstayed　her　visit　to　the　West。　She　must　not　linger　there　indefinitely。　And　mingled　with　misgiving　was　a　surprise　that　she　had　not　tired　of　Oak　Creek。　In　spite　of　all；　and　of　the　dislike　she　vaunted　to　herself；　the　truth　stared　at　hershe　was　not　tired。
  The　long…delayed　visit　to　see　Glenn　working　on　his　own　farm　must　result　in　her　talking　to　him　about　his　work；　and　in　a　way　not　quite　clear　she　regretted　the　necessity　for　it。　To　disapprove　of　Glenn！　She　received　faint　intimations　of　wavering；　of　uncertainty；　of　vague　doubt。　But　these　were　cried　down　by　the　dominant　and　habitable　voice　of　her　personality。
  Presently　through　the　shaded　and　shadowed　breadth　of　the　belt　of　forest　she　saw　gleams　of　a　sunlit　clearing。　And　crossing　this　space　to　the　border　of　trees　she　peered　forth；　hoping　to　espy　Glenn　at　his　labors。　She　saw　an　old　shack；　and　irregular　lines　of　rude　fence　built　of　poles　of　all　sizes　and　shapes；　and　several　plots　of　bare　yellow　ground；　leading　up　toward　the　west　side　of　the　canyon　wall。　Could　this　clearing　be　Glenn's　farm？　Surely　she　had　missed　it　or　had　not　gone　far　enough。　This　was　not　a　farm；　but　a　slash　in　the　forested　level　of　the　canyon　floor；　bare　and　somehow　hideous。　Dead　trees　were　standing　in　the　lots。　They　had　been　ringed　deeply　at　the　base　by　an　ax；　to　kill　them；　and　so　prevent　their　foliage　from　shading　the　soil。　Carley　saw　a　long　pile　of　rocks　that　evidently　had　been　carried　from　the　plowed　ground。　There　was　no　neatness；　no　regularity；　although　there　was　abundant　evidence　of　toil。　To　clear　that　rugged　space；　to　fence　it；　and　plow　it；　appeared　at　once　to　Carley　an　extremely　strenuous　and　useless　task。　Carley　persuaded　herself　that　this　must　be　the　plot　of　ground　belonging　to　the　herder　Charley；　and　she　was　about　to　turn　on　down　the　creek　when　far　up　under　the　bluff　she　espied　a　man。　He　was　stalking　along　and　bending　down；　stalking　along　and　bending　down。　She　recognized　Glenn。　He　was　planting　something　in　the　yellow　soil。
  Curiously　Carley　watched　him；　and　did　not　allow　her　mind　to　become　concerned　with　a　somewhat　painful　swell　of　her　heart。　What　a　stride　he　had！　How　vigorous　he　looked；　and　earnest！　He　was　as　intent　upon　this　job　as　if　he　had　been　a　rustic。　He　might　have　been　failing　to　do　it　well；　but　he　most　certainly　was　doing　it　conscientiously。　Once　he　had　said　to　her　that　a　man　should　never　be　judged　by　the　result　of　his　labors；　but　by　the　nature　of　his　effort。　A　man　might　strive　with　all　his　heart　and　strength；　yet　fall。　Carley　watched　him　striding　along　and　bending　down；　absorbed　in　his　task；　unmindful　of　the　glaring　hot　sun；　and　somehow　to　her