Through the trees Carley saw a stream of water, open fields of
green, log fences and cabins, and blue smoke. She heard the chug of a
gasoline engine and the baa-baa of sheep. Glenn waited for her to catch up
with him, and he said: "Carley, this is one of Hutter's sheep camps. It's
not a--a very pleasant place. You won't care to see the sheep-dip. So I'm
suggesting you wait here--"
"Nothing doing, Glenn," she interrupted. "I'm going to see what there is to
see."
"But, dear--the men--the way they handle sheep--they'll--really it's no
sight for you," he floundered.
"Why not?" she inquired, eying him.
"Because, Carley--you know how you hate the--the seamy side of things. And
the stench--why, it'll make you sick!"
"Glenn, be on the level," she said. "Suppose it does. Wouldn't you think
more of me if I could stand it?"
"Why, yes," he replied, reluctantly, smiling at her, "I would. But I wanted
to spare you. This trip has been hard. I'm sure proud of you. And, Carley--
you can overdo it. Spunk is not everything. You simply couldn't stand
this."
"Glenn, how little you know a woman!" she exclaimed. "Come along and show
me your old sheep-dip."
They rode out of the woods into an open valley that might have been
picturesque if it had not been despoiled by the work of man.
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