Morning brought fair weather and sunshine, which helped to sustain

Carley in her effort to brave out her pains and woes. Another

disagreeable day would have forced her to humiliating defeat.

Fortunately for her, the business of the men was concerned with the

immediate neighborhood, in which they expected to stay all morning.

"Flo, after a while persuade Carley to ride with you to the top of this

first foothill," said Glenn. "It's not far, and it's worth a good deal

to see the Painted Desert from there. The day is clear and the air free

from dust."

"Shore. Leave it to me. I want to get out of camp, anyhow. That

conceited hombre, Lee Stanton, will be riding in here," answered Flo,

laconically.

The slight knowing smile on Glenn's face and the grinning disbelief

on Mr. Hutter's were facts not lost upon Carley. And when Charley, the

herder, deliberately winked at Carley, she conceived the idea that Flo,

like many women, only ran off to be pursued. In some manner Carley did

not seek to analyze, the purported advent of this Lee Stanton pleased

her. But she did admit to her consciousness that women, herself

included, were both as deep and mysterious as the sea, yet as

transparent as an inch of crystal water.

It happened that the expected newcomer rode into camp before anyone

left. Before he dismounted he made a good impression on Carley, and

as he stepped down in lazy, graceful action, a tall lithe figure, she

thought him singularly handsome. He wore black sombrero, flannel shirt,

blue jeans stuffed into high boots, and long, big-roweled spurs.

"How are you-all?" was his greeting.

From the talk that ensued between him and the men, Carley concluded

that he must be overseer of the sheep hands. Carley knew that Hutter

and Glenn were not interested in cattle raising. And in fact they were,

especially Hutter, somewhat inimical to the dominance of the range land

by cattle barons of Flagstaff.

"When's Ryan goin' to dip?" asked Hutter.

"Today or tomorrow," replied Stanton.

"Reckon we ought to ride over," went on Hutter. "Say, Glenn, do you

reckon Miss Carley could stand a sheep-dip?"

This was spoken in a low tone, scarcely intended for Carley, but she had

keen ears and heard distinctly. Not improbably this sheep-dip was what

Flo meant as the worst to come. Carley adopted a listless posture to

hide her keen desire to hear what Glenn would reply to Hutter.

"I should say not!" whispered Glenn, fiercely.

"Cut out that talk. She'll hear you and want to go."




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