Carley espied a
horseman far down the 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.
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