These tents were large, with broad floors high off the ground, and there
were four of them. Her living tent had a porch under a wide canvas awning.
The bed was a boxlike affair, raised off the floor two feet, and it
contained a great, fragrant mass of cedar boughs upon which the blankets
were to be spread. At one end was a dresser with large mirror, and a
chiffonier. There were table and lamp, a low rocking chair, a shelf for
books, a row of hooks upon which to hang things, a washstand with its
necessary accessories, a little stove and a neat stack of cedar chips and
sticks. Navajo rugs on the floor lent brightness and comfort.
Carley heard the rustling of cedar branches over her head, and saw where
they brushed against the tent roof. It appeared warm and fragrant inside,
and protected from the wind, and a subdued white light filtered through the
canvas. Almost she felt like reproving herself for the comfort surrounding
her. For she had come West to welcome the hard knocks of primitive life.
It took less than an hour to have her trunks stored in one of the spare
tents, and to unpack clothes and necessaries for immediate use. Carley
donned the comfortable and somewhat shabby outdoor garb she had worn at Oak
Creek the year before; and it seemed to be the last thing needed to make
her fully realize the glorious truth of the present.
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