All too soon Carley found herself astride the mustang again. Glenn helped
her don the slicker, an abominable sticky rubber coat that bundled her up
and tangled her feet round the stirrups. She was glad to find, though, that
it served well indeed to protect her from raw wind and rain.
"Where do we go from here?" Carley inquired, ironically.
Glenn laughed in a way which proved to Carley that he knew perfectly well
how she felt. Again his smile caused her self-reproach. Plain indeed was it
that he had really expected more of her in the way of complaint and less of
fortitude. Carley bit her lips.
Thus began the afternoon ride. As it advanced the sky grew more
threatening, the wind rawer, the cold keener, and the rain cut like little
bits of sharp ice. It blew in Carley's face. Enough snow fell to whiten the
open patches of ground. In an hour Carley realized that she had the hardest
task of her life to ride to the end of the day's journey. No one could have
guessed her plight. Glenn complimented her upon her adaptation to such
unpleasant conditions. Flo evidently was on the lookout for the
tenderfoot's troubles. But as Spillbeans, had taken to lagging at a walk,
Carley was enabled to conceal all outward sign of her woes.
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