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Page 20
"Mawnin', Carley," she drawled. "It's shore cold. Reckon it'll snow today,
worse luck, just because you're here. Take my hunch and stay in bed till
the fire burns up."
"I shall do no such thing," declared Carley, heroically.
"We're afraid you'll take cold," said Flo. "This is desert country with
high altitude. Spring is here when the sun shines. But it's only shinin' in
streaks these days. That means winter, really. Please be good."
"Well, it doesn't require much self-denial to stay here awhile longer,"
replied Carley, lazily.
Flo left with a parting admonition not to let the stove get red-hot. And
Carley lay snuggled in the warm blankets, dreading the ordeal of getting
out into that cold bare room. Her nose was cold. When her nose grew cold,
it being a faithful barometer as to temperature, Carley knew there was
frost in the air. She preferred summer. Steam-heated rooms with hothouse
flowers lending their perfume had certainly not trained Carley for
primitive conditions. She had a spirit, however, that was waxing a little
rebellious to all this intimation as to her susceptibility to colds and her
probable weakness under privation. Carley got up. Her bare feet landed upon
the board floor instead of the Navajo rug, and she thought she had
encountered cold stone. Stove and hot water notwithstanding, by the time
she was half dressed she was also half frozen. "Some actor fellow once said
w-when you w-went West you were c-camping out," chattered Carley. "Believe
me, he said something."
The fact was Carley had never camped out. Her set played golf, rode
horseback, motored and house-boated, but they had never gone in for
uncomfortable trips. The camps and hotels in the Adirondacks were as warm
and luxurious as Carley's own home. Carley now missed many things. And
assuredly her flesh was weak. It cost her effort of will and real pain to
finish lacing her boots. As she had made an engagement with Glenn to visit
his cabin, she had donned an outdoor suit. She wondered if the cold had
anything to do with the perceptible diminishing of the sound of the
waterfall. Perhaps some of the water had frozen, like her fingers.
Carley went downstairs to the living room, and made no effort to resist a
rush to the open fire. Flo and her mother were amused at Carley's
impetuosity. "You'll like that stingin' of the air after you get used to
it," said Mrs. Hutter. Carley had her doubts. When she was thoroughly
thawed out she discovered an appetite quite unusual for her, and she
enjoyed her breakfast. Then it was time to sally forth to meet Glenn.
"It's pretty sharp this mawnin'," said Flo. "You'll need gloves and
sweater."
Having fortified herself with these, Carley asked how to find West Fork
Canyon.
"It's down the road a little way," replied Flo. "A great narrow canyon
opening on the right side. You can't miss it."
Flo accompanied her as far as the porch steps. A queer-looking individual
was slouching along with ax over his shoulder.
"There's Charley," said Flo. "He'll show you." Then she whispered: "He's
sort of dotty sometimes. A horse kicked him once. But mostly he's
sensible."
At Flo's call the fellow halted with a grin. He was long, lean, loose
jointed, dressed in blue overalls stuck into the tops of muddy boots, and
his face was clear olive without beard or line. His brow bulged a little,
and from under it peered out a pair of wistful brown eyes that reminded
Carley of those of a dog she had once owned.
"Wal, it ain't a-goin' to be a nice day," remarked Charley, as he tried to
accommodate his strides to Carley's steps.
"How can you tell?" asked Carley. "It looks clear and bright."
"Naw, this is a dark mawnin'. Thet's a cloudy sun. We'll hev snow on an'
off."
"Do you mind bad weather?"
"Me? All the same to me. Reckon, though, I like it cold so I can loaf round
a big fire at night."
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