sweet smell of burnt wood thrilled to the marrow of her bones.  How little she knew of herself!  But she had intelligence enough to understand that there was a woman in her, the female of the species; and through that the sensations from logs and stones and earth and fire had strange power to call up the emotions handed down to her from the ages.  The thrill, the queer heartbeat, the vague, haunting memory of something, as of a dim childhood adventure, the strange prickling sense of dread—­these abided with her and augmented while she tried to show Glenn her pride in him and also how funny his cabin seemed to her.

Once or twice he hesitatingly, and somewhat appealingly, she imagined, tried to broach the subject of his work there in the West.  But Carley wanted a little while with him free of disagreeable argument.  It was a foregone conclusion that she would not like his work.  Her intention at first had been to begin at once to use all persuasion in her power toward having him go back East with her, or at the latest some time this year.  But the rude log cabin had checked her impulse.  She felt that haste would be unwise.

“Glenn Kilbourne, I told you why I came West to see you,” she said, spiritedly.  “Well, since you still swear allegiance to your girl from the East, you might entertain her a little bit before getting down to business talk.”

“All right, Carley,” he replied, laughing.  “What do you want to do?  The day is at your disposal.  I wish it were June.  Then if you didn’t fall in love with West Fork you’d be no good.”

“Glenn, I love people, not places,” she returned.

“So I remember.  And that’s one thing I don’t like.  But let’s not quarrel.  What’ll we do?”

“Suppose you tramp with me all around, until I’m good and hungry.  Then we’ll come back here—­and you can cook dinner for me.”

“Fine!  Oh, I know you’re just bursting with curiosity to see how I’ll do it.  Well, you may be surprised, miss.”

“Let’s go,” she urged.

“Shall I take my gun or fishing rod?”

“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.”