One instant the canyon tilted on end for Carley and she was riding into the blue sky.

Then some magic of soul sustained her, so that she saw clearly.

Reaching the cabin she reined in her mustang.
"Hello, Glenn! Look who's here!" she cried, not wholly failing of gayety.
He threw up his sombrero.
"Whoopee!" he yelled, in stentorian voice that rolled across the canyon and bellowed in hollow echo and then clapped from wall to wall.

The unexpected Western yell, so strange from Glenn, disconcerted Carley.

Had he only answered her spirit of greeting?
Had hers rung false?
But he was coming to her.