he road, and presently recognized both rider
and steed. He was coming fast. She went out and, mounting her mustang,
she rode out to meet Glenn. It did not appeal to her to wait for him
at the cabin; besides hoof tracks other than those made by her mustang
might have been noticed by Glenn. Presently he came up to her and pulled
his loping horse.

"Hello! I sure was worried," was his greeting, as his gloved hand went
out to her. "Did you run into that sandstorm?"

"It ran into me, Glenn, and buried me," she laughed.

His fine eyes lingered on her face with glad and warm glance, and the
keen, apprehensive penetration of a lover.

"Well, under all that dust you look scared," he said.

"Scared! I was worse than that. When I first ran into the flying dirt I
was only afraid I'd lose my way--and my complexion. But when the worst
of the storm hit me--then I feared I'd lose my breath."

"Did you face that sand and ride through it all?" he queried.

"No, not all. But enough. I went through the worst of it before I
reached the cabin," she replied.

"Wasn't it great?"

"Yes--great bother and annoyance," she said, laconically.

Whereupon he reached with long, arm and wrapped it round her as they
rocked side by side. Demonstrations of this nature were infrequent with
Glenn. Despite losing one foot out of a stirrup and her seat in the
saddle Carley rather encouraged it. He kissed her dusty face, and then
set her back.

"By George! Carley, sometimes I think you've changed since you've been
here," he said, with warmth. "To go through that sandstorm without one
kick--one knock at my West!"

"Glenn, I always think of what Flo says--the worst is yet to come,"
replied Carley, trying to hide her unreasonable and tumultuous pleasure
at words of praise from him.

"Carley Burch, you don't know yourself," he declared, enigmatically.

"What woman knows herself? But do you know me?"

"Not I. Yet sometimes I see depths in you--wonderful
possibilities--submerged under your poise--under your fixed, complacent
idle attitude toward life."

This seemed for Carley to be dangerously skating near thin ice, but she
could not resist a retort:

"Depths in me? Why I am a shallow, transparent stream like your West
Fork! ... And as for possibilities--may I ask what of them you imagine
you see?"

"As a girl, before you were claimed by the world, you were earnest at
heart. You had big hopes and dreams. And you had intellect, too. But you
hav