The dry, sweet, tangy canyon smells returned to her--of fresh-cut timber, of wood smoke, of the cabin fire with its steaming pots, of flowers and earth, and of the wet stones, of the redolent pines and the pungent cedars.
And suddenly, clearly, amazingly, Carley beheld in her mind's sight the hard features, the bold eyes, the slight smile, the coarse face of Haze Ruff.

She had forgotten him.

But he now returned.

And with memory of him flashed a revelation as to his meaning in her life.

He had appeared merely a clout, a ruffian, an animal with man's shape and intelligence.
But he was the embodiment of the raw, crude violence of the West.