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Page 34
Carley murmured something of her appreciation of what she had just seen.
Part of his remark hung on her ear, thought-provoking and disturbing. He
hoped she would stay until summer! That was kind of him. But her visit must
be short and she now intended it to end with his return East with her. If
she did not persuade him to go he might not want to go for a while, as he
had written--"just yet." Carley grew troubled in mind. Such mental
disturbance, however, lasted no longer than her return with Glenn to camp,
where the mustang Spillbeans stood ready for her to mount. He appeared to
put one ear up, the other down, and to look at her with mild surprise, as
if to say: "What--hello--tenderfoot! Are you going to ride me again?"
Carley recalled that she had avowed she would ride him. There was no
alternative, and her misgivings only made matters worse. Nevertheless, once
in the saddle, she imagined she had the hallucination that to ride off so,
with the long open miles ahead, was really thrilling. This remarkable state
of mind lasted until Spillbeans began to trot, and then another day of
misery beckoned to Carley with gray stretches of distance.
She was to learn that misery, as well as bliss, can swallow up the hours.
She saw the monotony of cedar trees, but with blurred eyes; she saw the
ground clearly enough, for she was always looking down, hoping for sandy
places or rocky places where her mustang could not trot.
At noon the cavalcade ahead halted near a cabin and corral, which turned
out to be a sheep ranch belonging to Hutter. Here Glenn was so busy that he
had no time to devote to Carley. And Flo, who was more at home on a horse
than on the ground, rode around everywhere with the men. Most assuredly
Carley could not pass by the chance to get off Spillbeans and to walk a
little. She found, however, that what she wanted most was to rest. The
cabin was deserted, a dark, damp place with a rank odor. She did not stay
long inside.
Rain and snow began to fall, adding to what Carley felt to be a
disagreeable prospect. The immediate present, however, was cheered by a cup
of hot soup and some bread and butter which the herder Charley brought her.
By and by Glenn and Hutter returned with Flo, and all partook of some
lunch.
All too soon Carley found herself astride the mustang again. Glenn helped
her don the slicker, an abominable sticky rubber coat that bundled her up
and tangled her feet round the stirrups. She was glad to find, though, that
it served well indeed to protect her from raw wind and rain.
"Where do we go from here?" Carley inquired, ironically.
Glenn laughed in a way which proved to Carley that he knew perfectly well
how she felt. Again his smile caused her self-reproach. Plain indeed was it
that he had really expected more of her in the way of complaint and less of
fortitude. Carley bit her lips.
Thus began the afternoon ride. As it advanced the sky grew more
threatening, the wind rawer, the cold keener, and the rain cut like little
bits of sharp ice. It blew in Carley's face. Enough snow fell to whiten the
open patches of ground. In an hour Carley realized that she had the hardest
task of her life to ride to the end of the day's journey. No one could have
guessed her plight. Glenn complimented her upon her adaptation to such
unpleasant conditions. Flo evidently was on the lookout for the
tenderfoot's troubles. But as Spillbeans, had taken to lagging at a walk,
Carley was enabled to conceal all outward sign of her woes. It rained,
hailed, sleeted, snowed, and grew colder all the time. Carley's feet became
lumps of ice. Every step the mustang took sent acute pains ramifying from
bruised and raw places all over her body.
Once, finding herself behind the others and out of sight in the cedars, she
got off to walk awhile, leading the mustang. This would not do, however,
because she fell too far in the rear. Mounting again, she rode on,
beginning to feel that nothing mattered, that this trip would be the end of
Carley Burch. How she hated that dreary, cold, flat land the road bisected
without end. It felt as if she rode hours to cover a mile. In open
stretches she saw the whole party straggling along, separated from one
another, and each for himself. They certainly could not be enjoying
themselves. Carley shut her eyes, clutched the pommel of the saddle, trying
to support her weight. How could she endure another mile? Alas! there might
be many miles. Suddenly a terrible shock seemed to rack her. But it was
only that Spillbeans had once again taken to a trot. Frantically she pulled
on the bridle. He was not to be thwarted. Opening her eyes, she saw a cabin
far ahead which probably was the destination for the night. Carley knew she
would never reach it, yet she clung on desperately. What she dreaded was
the return of that stablike pain in her side. It came, and life seemed
something abject and monstrous. She rode stiff legged, with her hands
propping her stiffly above the pommel, but the stabbing pain went right on,
and in deeper. When the mustang halted his trot beside the other horses
Carley was in the last extremity. Yet as Glenn came to her, offering a
hand, she still hid her agony. Then Flo called out gayly: "Carley, you've
done twenty-five miles on as rotten a day as I remember. Shore we all hand
it to you. And I'm confessing I didn't think you'd ever stay the ride out.
Spillbeans is the meanest nag we've got and he has the hardest gait."
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