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Page 56
"Well, first about your work. I know I hurt your feelings when I wouldn't
listen. But I wasn't ready. I wanted to--to just be gay with you for a
while. Don't think I wasn't interested. I was. And now, I'm ready to hear
all about it--and everything."
She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseen shock
upset her composure, she would be able to conceal from him anything which
might hurt his feelings.
"You do look serious," he said, with keen eyes on her.
"Just what are your business relations with Hutter?" she inquired.
"I'm simply working for him," replied Glenn. "My aim is to get an interest
in his sheep, and I expect to, some day. We have some plans. And one of
them is the development of that Deep Lake section. You remember--you were
with us. The day Spillbeans spilled you?"
"Yes, I remember. It was a pretty place," she replied.
Carley did not tell him that for a month past she had owned the Deep Lake
section of six hundred and forty acres. She had, in fact, instructed Hutter
to purchase it, and to keep the transaction a secret for the present.
Carley had never been able to understand the impulse that prompted her to
do it. But as Hutter had assured her it was a remarkably good investment on
very little capital, she had tried to persuade herself of its advantages.
Back of it all had been an irresistible desire to be able some day to
present to Glenn this ranch site he loved. She had concluded he would
never wholly dissociate himself from this West; and as he would visit it
now and then, she had already begun forming plans of her own. She could
stand a month in Arizona at long intervals.
"Hutter and I will go into cattle raising some day," went on Glenn. "And
that Deep Lake place is what I want for myself."
"What work are you doing for Hutter?" asked Carley.
"Anything from building fence to cutting timber," laughed Glenn. "I've not
yet the experience to be a foreman like Lee Stanton. Besides, I have a
little business all my own. I put all my money in that."
"You mean here--this--this farm?"
"Yes. And the stock I'm raisin'. You see I have to feed corn. And believe
me, Carley, those cornfields represent some job."
"I can well believe that," replied Carley. "You--you looked it."
"Oh, the hard work is over. All I have to do now it to plant and keep the
weeds out."
"Glenn, do sheep eat corn?"
"I plant corn to feed my hogs."
"Hogs?" she echoed, vaguely.
"Yes, hogs," he said, with quiet gravity. "The first day you visited my
cabin I told you I raised hogs, and I fried my own ham for your dinner."
"Is that what you--put your money in?"
"Yes. And Hutter says I've done well."
"Hogs!" ejaculated Carley, aghast.
"My dear, are you growin' dull of comprehension?" retorted Glenn.
"H-o-g-s." He spelled the word out. "I'm in the hog-raising business, and
pretty blamed well pleased over my success so far."
Carley caught herself in time to quell outwardly a shock of amaze and
revulsion. She laughed, and exclaimed against her stupidity. The look of
Glenn was no less astounding than the content of his words. He was actually
proud of his work. Moreover, he showed not the least sign that he had any
idea such information might be startlingly obnoxious to his fiancee.
"Glenn! It's so--so queer," she ejaculated. "That you--Glenn Kilbourne-
should ever go in for--for hogs! . . . It's unbelievable. How'd you
ever--ever happen to do it?"
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