e of cliffs, and stretches of white
water, and then, high above the treetops, a wild line of canyon rim,
cold against the sky. She felt shut in from the world, lost in an
unscalable rut of the earth. Again the sunlight had failed, and the gray
gloom of the canyon oppressed her. It struck Carley as singular that she
could not help being affected by mere weather, mere heights and depths,
mere rock walls and pine trees, and rushing water. For really, what
had these to do with her? These were only physical things that she was
passing. Nevertheless, although she resisted sensation, she was more and
more shot through and through with the wildness and savageness of this
canyon.

A sharp turn of the road to the right disclosed a slope down the creek,
across which showed orchards and fields, and a cottage nestling at the
base of the wall. The ford at this crossing gave Carley more concern
than any that had been passed, for there was greater volume and depth
of water. One of the horses slipped on the rocks, plunged up and on with
great splash. They crossed, however, without more mishap to Carley than
further acquaintance with this iciest of waters. From this point the
driver turned back along the creek, passed between orchards and fields,
and drove along the base of the red wall to come suddenly upon a large
rustic house that had been hidden from Carley's sight. It sat almost
against the stone cliff, from which poured a white foamy sheet of water.
The house was built of slabs with the bark on, and it had a lower and
upper porch running all around, at least as far as the cliff. Green
growths from the rock wall overhung the upper porch. A column of blue
smoke curled lazily upward from a stone chimney. On one of the porch
posts hung a sign with rude lettering: "Lolomi Lodge."

"Hey, Josh, did you fetch the flour?" called a woman's voice from
inside.

"Hullo I Reckon I didn't forgit nothin'," replied the man, as he got
down. "An' say, Mrs. Hutter, hyar's a young lady from Noo Yorrk."

That latter speech of the driver's brought Mrs. Hutter out on the porch.
"Flo, come here," she called to some one evidently near at hand. And
then she smilingly greeted Carley.

"Get down an' come in, miss," she said. "I'm sure glad to see you."

Carley, being stiff and cold, did not very gracefully disengage herself
from the high muddy wheel and step. When she mounted to the porch she
saw that Mrs. Hutter was a woman of middle age, rather stout,