That blamed old bald eagle stole another of my pigs.
I am doing so well with my hog-raising that Hutter wants to come in with
me, giving me an interest in his sheep.
It is rumored some one has bought the Deep Lake section I wanted for a
ranch. I don't know who. Hutter was rather noncommittal.
Charley, the herder, had one of his queer spells the other day, and swore
to me he had a letter from you. He told the blamed lie with a sincere and
placid eye, and even a smile of pride. Queer guy, that Charley!
Flo and Lee Stanton had another quarrel--the worst yet, Lee tells me. Flo
asked a girl friend out from Flag and threw her in Lee's way, so to speak,
and when Lee retaliated by making love to the girl Flo got mad. Funny
creatures, you girls! Flo rode with me from High Falls to West Fork, and
never showed the slightest sign of trouble. In fact she was delightfully
gay. She rode Calico, and beat me bad in a race.
Adios, Carley. Won't you write me?
GLENN.
No sooner had Carley read the letter through to the end than she began it
all over again, and on this second perusal she lingered over passages--only
to reread them. That suggestion of her face sculptured by shadows on the
canyon walls seemed to thrill her very soul.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255