"Here we are, sweetheart," said Glenn."Now we shall see what you are made of."Carley was non-committal as to that.Her intense interest precluded any humor at this moment.Not until she actually saw the log cabin Glenn had erected with his own hands had she been conscious of any great interest.
But sight of it awoke something unaccustomed in Carley.As she stepped into the cabin her heart was not acting normally for a young woman who had no illusions about love in a cottage.
Glenn's cabin contained one room about fifteen feet wide by twenty long.
Between the peeled logs were lines of red mud, hard dried.There was a small window opposite the door.In one corner was a couch of poles, with green tips of pine boughs peeping from under the blankets.The floor consisted of flat rocks laid irregularly, with many spaces of earth showing between.The open fireplace appeared too large for the room, but the very bigness of it, as well as the blazing sticks and glowing embers, appealed strongly to Carley.A rough-hewn log formed the mantel, and on it Carley's picture held the place of honor.Above this a rifle lay across deer antlers.Carley paused here in her survey long enough to kiss Glenn and point to her photograph.
"You couldn't have pleased me more."
To the left of the fireplace was a rude cupboard of shelves, packed with boxes, cans, bags, and utensils.Below the cupboard, hung upon pegs, were blackened pots and pans, a long-handled skillet, and a bucket.Glenn's table was a masterpiece.There was no danger of knocking it over.It consisted of four poles driven into the ground, upon which had been nailed two wide slabs.This table showed considerable evidence of having been scrubbed scrupulously clean.There were two low stools, made out of boughs, and the seats had been covered with woolly sheep hide.In the right-hand corner stood a neat pile of firewood, cut with an ax, and beyond this hung saddle and saddle blanket, bridle and spurs.An old sombrero was hooked upon the pommel of the saddle.Upon the wall, higher up, hung a lantern, resting in a coil of rope that Carley took to be a lasso.Under a shelf upon which lay a suitcase hung some rough wearing apparel.
Carley noted that her picture and the suit case were absolutely the only physical evidences of Glenn's connection with his Eastern life.That had an unaccountable effect upon Carley.What had she expected? Then, after another survey of the room, she began to pester Glenn with questions.He had to show her the spring outside and the little bench with basin and soap.Sight of his soiled towel made her throw up her hands.She sat on the stools.She lay on the couch.She rummaged into the contents of the cupboard.She threw wood on the fire.Then, finally, having exhausted her search and inquiry, she flopped down on one of the stools to gaze at Glenn in awe and admiration and incredulity.
"Glenn--you've actually lived here!" she ejaculated.
"Since last fall before the snow came," he said, smiling.
"Snow! Did it snow?" she inquired.
"Well, I guess.I was snowed in for a week.""Why did you choose this lonely place--way off from the Lodge?" she asked, slowly.
"I wanted to be by myself," he replied, briefly.
"You mean this is a sort of camp-out place?""Carley, I call it my home," he replied, and there was a low, strong sweetness in his voice she had never heard before.
That silenced her for a while.She went to the door and gazed up at the towering wall, more wonderful than ever, and more fearful, too, in her sight.Presently tears dimmed her eyes.She did not understand her feeling;she was ashamed of it; she hid it from Glenn.Indeed, there was something terribly wrong between her and Glenn, and it was not in him.This cabin he called home gave her a shock which would take time to analyze.At length she turned to him with gay utterance upon her lips.She tried to put out of her mind a dawning sense that this close-to-the-earth habitation, this primitive dwelling, held strange inscrutable power over a self she had never divined she possessed.The very stones in the hearth seemed to call out from some remote past, and the strong 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?"
