Here she dismounted
and walked. From the foot of this descent she knew every rod of the way
would be familiar to her, and, womanlike, she wanted to turn away and fly
from them. But she kept on and mounted again at level ground.
The murmur of the creek suddenly assailed her ears--sweet, sad, memorable,
strangely powerful to hurt. Yet the sound seemed of long ago. Down here
summer had advanced. Rich thick foliage overspread the winding road of
sand. Then out of the shade she passed into the sunnier regions of isolated
pines. Along here she had raced Calico with Glenn's bay; and here she had
caught him, and there was the place she had fallen. She halted a moment
under the pine tree where Glenn had held her in his arms. Tears dimmed her
eyes. If only she had known then the truth, the reality! But regrets were
useless.
By and by a craggy red wall loomed above the trees, and its pipe-organ
conformation was familiar to Carley. She left the road and turned to go
down to the creek. Sycamores and maples and great bowlders, and mossy
ledges overhanging the water, and a huge sentinel pine marked the spot
where she and Glenn had eaten their lunch that last day. Her mustang
splashed into the clear water and halted to drink.
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