"You shall take nothing but me," retorted Carley. "What chance has a girl
with a man, if he can hunt or fish?"

So they went out hand in hand. Half of the belt of sky above was obscured
by swiftly moving gray clouds. The other half was blue and was being slowly
encroached upon by the dark storm-like pall. How cold the air! Carley had
already learned that when the sun was hidden the atmosphere was cold. Glenn
led her down a trail to the brook, where he calmly picked her up in his
arms, quite easily, it appeared, and leisurely packed her across, kissing
her half a dozen times before he deposited her on her feet.

"Glenn, you do this sort of thing so well that it makes me imagine you have
practice now and then," she said.

"No. But you are pretty and sweet, and like the girl you were four years
ago. That takes me back to those days."

"I thank you. That's dear of you. I think I am something of a cat. . . .
I'll be glad if this walk leads us often to the creek."

Spring might have been fresh and keen in the air, but it had not yet
brought much green to the brown earth or to the trees. The cotton-woods
showed a light feathery verdure. The long grass was a bleached white, and
low down close to the sod fresh tiny green blades showed. The great fern
leaves were sear and ragged, and they rustled in the breeze. Small gray
sheath-barked trees with clumpy foliage and snags of dead branches, Glenn
called cedars; and, grotesque as these were, Carley rather liked them. They
were approachable, not majestic and lofty like the pines, and they smelled
sweetly wild, and best of all they afforded some protection from the bitter
wind. Carley rested better than she walked. The huge sections of red rock