inside of her right knee was as sore as a boil. Besides, she had other
pains, just as severe, and she stood momentarily in mortal dread of that
terrible stitch in her side. If it returned she knew she would fall off.
But, fortunately, just when she was growing weak and dizzy, the horses
ahead slowed to a walk on a descent. The road wound down into a wide deep
canyon. Carley had a respite from her severest pains. Never before had she
known what it meant to be so grateful for relief from anything.

The afternoon grew far advanced and the sunset was hazily shrouded in gray.
Hutter did not like the looks of those clouds. "Reckon we're in for
weather," he said. Carley did not care what happened. Weather or anything
else that might make it possible to get off her horse! Glenn rode beside
her, inquiring solicitously as to her pleasure. "Ride of my life!" she lied
heroically. And it helped some to see that she both fooled and pleased him.

Beyond the canyon the cedared desert heaved higher and changed its aspect.
The trees grew larger, bushier, greener, and closer together, with patches
of bleached grass between, and russet-lichened rocks everywhere. Small
cactus plants bristled sparsely in open places; and here and there bright
red flowers--Indian paintbrush, Flo called them--added a touch of color to
the gray. Glenn pointed to where dark banks of cloud had massed around the
mountain peaks. The scene to the west was somber and compelling.

At last the men and the pack-horses ahead came to a halt in a level green
forestland with no high trees. Far ahead a chain of soft gray round hills
led up to the dark heaved mass of mountains. Carley saw the gleam of water
through the trees. Probably her mustang saw or scented it, because he
started to trot. Carley had reached a limit of strength, endurance, and
patience. She hauled him up short. When Spillbeans evinced a stubborn
intention to go on Carley gave him a kick. Then it happened.