He appeared to put one ear up, the other down, and to look at her with mild surprise, as if to say: "What--hello--tenderfoot! Are you going to ride me again ?" Carley recalled that she had avowed she would ride him.

There was no alternative, and her misgivings only made matters worse.

Nevertheless, once in the saddle, she imagined she had the hallucination that to ride off so, with the long open miles ahead, was really thrilling.

This remarkable state of mind lasted until Spillbeans began to trot, and then another day of misery beckoned to Carley with gray stretches of distance.
She was to learn that misery, as well as bliss, can swallow up the hours.

She saw the monotony of cedar trees, but with blurred eyes; she saw the ground clearly enough, for she was always looking down, hoping for sandy places or rocky places where her mustang could not trot.
At noon the cavalcade ahead halted near a cabin and corral, which turned out to be a sheep ranch belonging to Hutter.