In the still noontides, when the bees hummed drowsily and the flies buzzed, vast creamy-white columnar clouds rolled up from the horizon, like colossal ships with bulging sails.

And summer with its rush of growing things was at hand.
Carley rode afar, seeking in strange places the secret that eluded her.
Only a few days now until she would ride down to Oak Creek Canyon! There was a low, singing melody of wind in the cedars.

The earth became too beautiful in her magnified sight.

A great truth was dawning upon her--that the sacrifice of what she had held as necessary to the enjoyment of life--that the strain of conflict, the labor of hands, the forcing of weary body, the enduring of pain, the contact with the earth--had served somehow to rejuvenate her blood, quicken her pulse, intensify her sensorial faculties, thrill her very soul, lead her into the realm of enchantment.
One afternoon a dull, lead-black-colored cinder knoll tempted her to explore its bare heights.

She rode up until her mustang sank to his knees and could climb no farther.