Only another reason why she must persuade Glenn to go back East! But the closer Carley came to what she divined must be an ordeal the more she dreaded it.

This raw, crude West might have confronted her with a situation beyond her control.

And as she dragged her weighted feet through the cinders, kicking, up little puffs of black dust, she felt what she admitted to be an unreasonable resentment toward these Westerners and their barren, isolated, and boundless world.
"Carley," called Flo, "come--looksee, as the Indians say.

Here is Glenn's Painted Desert, and I reckon it's shore worth seeing." To Carley's surprise, she found herself upon the knob of the foothill.
And when she looked out across a suddenly distinguishable void she seemed struck by the immensity of something she was unable to grasp.

She dropped her bridle; she gazed slowly, as if drawn, hearing Flo's voice.
"That thin green line of cottonwoods down there is the Little Colorado River," Flo was saying.