On the roof pattered gusts of rain. Carley heard a rustling of
mice. It did not seem possible that she could keep awake, yet she strove
to do so. But her pangs of body, her extreme fatigue soon yielded to
the quiet and rest of her bed, engendering a drowsiness that proved
irresistible.

Morning brought fair weather and sunshine, which helped to sustain
Carley in her effort to brave out her pains and woes. Another
disagreeable day would have forced her to humiliating defeat.
Fortunately for her, the business of the men was concerned with the
immediate neighborhood, in which they expected to stay all morning.

"Flo, after a while persuade Carley to ride with you to the top of this
first foothill," said Glenn. "It's not far, and it's worth a good deal
to see the Painted Desert from there. The day is clear and the air free
from dust."

"Shore. Leave it to me. I want to get out of camp, anyhow. That
conceited hombre, Lee Stanton, will be riding in here," answered Flo,
laconically.

The slight knowing smile on Glenn's face and the grinning disbelief
on Mr. Hutter's were facts not lost upon Carley. And when Charley, the
herder, deliberately winked at Carley, she conceived the idea that Flo,
like many women, only ran off to be pursued. In some manner Carley did
not seek to analyze, the purported advent of this Lee Stanton pleased
her. But she did admit to her consciousness that women, herself
included, were both as deep and mysterious as the sea, yet as
transparent as an inch of crystal water.

It happened that the expected newcomer rode into camp before anyone
left. Before he dismounted he made a good impression on Carley, and
as he stepped down in lazy, graceful action, a tall lithe figure, she
thought him singularly handsome. He wore black sombrero, flannel shirt,
blue jeans stuffed into high boots, and long, big-roweled spurs.

"How are you-all?" was his greeting.

From the talk that ensued between him and the men, Carley concluded
that he must be overseer of the sheep hands. Carley knew that Hutter
and Glenn were not interested in cattle raising. And in fact they were,
especially Hutter, somewhat inimical to the dominance of the range land
by cattle barons of Flagstaff.

"When's Ryan goin' to dip?" asked Hutter.

"Today or tomorrow," replied Stanton.

"Reckon we ought to ride over," went on Hutter. "Say, Glenn, do you
reckon Miss Carley could stand a sheep-dip?"

This was spoken in a low tone, scarcely inten