Sure was the welcome
here. Sure was the strained situation, also, but the voice rang too glad a
note for Carley. It touched her deeply, yet she could not understand. She
had not measured the depth of Western friendship.
"Have you--seen Glenn?" queried Flo, breathlessly.
"Oh no, indeed not," replied Carley, slowly gaining composure. The nervous
agitation of these women had stilled her own. "I just rode up the trail.
Where is he?"
"He was here--a moment ago," panted Flo. "Oh, Carley, we sure are locoed.
. . . Why, we only heard an hour ago--that you were at Deep Lake. . . .
Charley rode in. He told us. . . . I thought my heart would break. Poor
Glenn! When he heard it. . . . But never mind me. Jump your horse and run
to West Fork!"
The spirit of her was like the strength of her arms as she hurried Carley
across the porch and shoved her down the steps.
"Climb on and run, Carley," cried Flo. "If you only knew how glad he'll be
that you came!"
Carley leaped into the saddle and wheeled the mustang. But she had no
answer for the girl's singular, almost wild exultance. Then like a shot the
spirited mustang was off down the lane. Carley wondered with swelling
heart. Was her coming such a wondrous surprise--so unexpected and big in
generosity--something that would make Kilbourne as glad as it had seemed to
make Flo? Carley thrilled to this assurance.
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