Spencer girl who was here last summer."

"I think so, too. I am sure I hope so. Because you remember what the ride
to Long Valley did to Miss Spencer," rejoined Glenn.

"What?" inquired Carley.

"Bad cold, peeled nose, skinned shin, saddle sores. She was in bed two
days. She didn't show much pep the rest of her stay here, and she never got
on another horse."

"Oh, is that all, Glenn?" returned Carley, in feigned surprise. "Why, I
imagined from your tone that Miss Spencer's ride must have occasioned her
discomfort. . . . See here, Glenn. I may be a tenderfoot, but I'm no
mollycoddle."

"My dear, I surrender," replied Glenn, with a laugh. "Really, I'm
delighted. But if anything happens--don't you blame me. I'm quite sure that
a long horseback ride, in spring, on the desert, will show you a good many
things about yourself."

That was how Carley came to find herself, the afternoon of the next day,
astride a self-willed and unmanageable little mustang, riding in the rear
of her friends, on the way through a cedar forest toward a place called
Deep Lake.

Carley had not been able yet, during the several hours of their journey, to
take any pleasure in the scenery or in her mount. For in the first place
there was nothing to see but scrubby little gnarled cedars and drab-looking
rocks; and in the second this Indian pony she rode had discovered she was