Glenn knelt at the edge of the brook, and, plunging his hands in, he splashed like a huge dog and bathed his hot face and head, and then turned to Carley with gay words and laughter, while he wiped himself dry with a large red scarf.  Carley was not proof against the virility of him then, and at the moment, no matter what it was that had made him the man he looked, she loved it.

“I’ll sit in the sun,” he said, designating a place.  “When you’re hot you mustn’t rest in the shade, unless you’ve coat or sweater.  But you sit here in the shade.”

“Glenn, that’ll put us too far apart,” complained Carley.  “I’ll sit in the sun with you.”

The delightful simplicity and happiness of the ensuing hour was something Carley believed she would never forget.

“There! we’ve licked the platter clean,” she said.  “What starved bears we were! . . . .  I wonder if I shall enjoy eating—­when I get home.  I used to be so finnicky and picky.”

“Carley, don’t talk about home,” said Glenn, appealingly.

“You dear old farmer, I’d love to stay here and just dream—­forever,” replied Carley, earnestly.  “But I came on purpose to talk seriously.”

“Oh, you did!  About what?” he returned, with some quick, indefinable change of tone and expression.

“Well, first about your work.  I know I hurt your feelings when I wouldn’t listen.  But I wasn’t ready.  I wanted to—­to just be gay with you for a while.  Don’t think I wasn’t interested.  I was.  And now, I’m ready to hear all about it—­and everything.”

She smiled at him bravely, and she knew that unless some unforeseen shock upset her composure, she would be able to conceal from him anything which might hurt his feelings.

“You do look serious,” he said, with keen eyes on her.

“Just what are your business relations with Hutter?” she inquired.

“I’m simply working for him,” replied Glenn.  “My aim is to get an interest in his sheep, and I expect to, some day.  We have some plans.  And one of them is the development of that Deep Lake section.  You remember—­you were with us.  The day Spillbeans spilled you?”

“Yes, I remember.  It was a pretty place,” she replied.

Carley did not tell him that for a month past she had owned the Deep Lake section of six hundred and forty acres.  She had, in fact, instructed Hutter to purchase it, and to keep the transaction a secret for the present.  Carley had never been able to understand the impulse that prompted her to do it.  But as Hutter had assured her it was a remarkably good investment on very little capital, she had tried to persuade herself of its advantages.  Back of it all had been an irresistible desire to be able some day to present to Glenn this ranch site he loved.  She had concluded he would never wholly dissociate himself from this West; and as he would visit it now and then, she had already begun forming plans of her own.  She could stand a month in Arizona at long intervals.