"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.