All the time that she dressed and thought, her very being seemed to be permeated by that soft murmuring sound of falling water.  No moment of waking life there at Lolomi Lodge, or perhaps of slumber hours, could be wholly free of that sound.  It vaguely tormented Carley, yet was not uncomfortable.  She went out upon the porch.  The small alcove space held a bed and a rustic chair.  Above her the peeled poles of the roof descended to within a few feet of her head.  She had to lean over the rail of the porch to look up.  The green and red rock wall sheered ponderously near.  The waterfall showed first at the notch of a fissure, where the cliff split; and down over smooth places the water gleamed, to narrow in a crack with little drops, and suddenly to leap into a thin white sheet.

Out from the porch the view was restricted to glimpses between the pines, and beyond to the opposite wall of the canyon.  How shut-in, how walled in this home!

“In summer it might be good to spend a couple of weeks here,” soliloquized Carley.  “But to live here?  Heavens!  A person might as well be buried.”

Heavy footsteps upon the porch below accompanied by a man’s voice quickened Carley’s pulse.  Did they belong to Glenn?  After a strained second she decided not.  Nevertheless, the acceleration of her blood and an unwonted glow of excitement, long a stranger to her, persisted as she left the porch and entered the boarded hall.  How gray and barn-like this upper part of the house!  From the head of the stairway, however, the big living room presented a cheerful contrast.  There were warm colors, some comfortable rockers, a lamp that shed a bright light, and an open fire which alone would have dispelled the raw gloom of the day.

A large man in corduroys and top boots advanced to meet Carley.  He had a clean-shaven face that might have been hard and stern but for his smile, and one look into his eyes revealed their resemblance to Flo’s.

“I’m Tom Hutter, an’ I’m shore glad to welcome you to Lolomi, Miss Carley,” he said.  His voice was deep and slow.  There were ease and force in his presence, and the grip he gave Carley’s hand was that of a man who made no distinction in hand-shaking.  Carley, quick in her perceptions, instantly liked him and sensed in him a strong personality.  She greeted him in turn and expressed her thanks for his goodness to Glenn.  Naturally Carley expected him to say something about her fiance, but he did not.

“Well, Miss Carley, if you don’t mind, I’ll say you’re prettier than your picture,” said Hutter.  “An’ that is shore sayin’ a lot.  All the sheep herders in the country have taken a peep at your picture.  Without permission, you understand.”

“I’m greatly flattered,” laughed Carley.

“We’re glad you’ve come,” replied Hutter, simply.  “I just got back from the East myself.  Chicago an’ Kansas City.  I came to Arizona from Illinois over thirty years ago.  An’ this was my first trip since.  Reckon I’ve not got back my breath yet.  Times have changed, Miss Carley.  Times an’ people!”