Carolyn June and Skinny stood on the porch and watched the car climb the grade and out on to the bench. The storm of the night before had washed the earth clean and cooled the air. A faint after-breeze fanned the tree-tops. The Costejo peaks stood out, with stereoscopical clearness, against a cloudless sky. The day was a challenge to one who loved the open.
"You may saddle 'Old Blue,'" Carolyn June said to Skinny. "—I'll see if
I can 'stick on him' long enough to ride as far as the river!"
"He's already saddled," Skinny replied, "him and Old Pie Face both."
"Man, dear," she cried in mock misunderstanding, "you surely are not expecting me to ride the two of them at once!"
"No," he answered meekly, "Old Pie Face is my horse, I'm going to ride him and go with you."
"Indeed!" she exclaimed, then laughing mischievously. "Oh, certainly—that's a good one—I hadn't thought of it before!"
"Don't you want me to go?" Skinny asked doubtfully.
"Surely. I should be utterly unhappy if you didn't—I'll get my hat."
"Blamed if I can figure her out," Skinny said to himself as Carolyn June ran lightly into the house. "She keeps a feller freezing to death and burning up all at once—sort of in heaven and hell both mixed together."
A white, medium-brimmed felt hat was set jauntily on the fluffy brown hair when she reappeared. Skinny's heart leaped hungrily. Carolyn June was a picture of perfect physical fitness. The cowboy silently wondered how long he could keep from making "a complete, triple-expansion, darned fool of himself!"