It did not appeal to her to wait for him at the cabin; besides hoof tracks other than those made by her mustang might have been noticed by Glenn.

Presently he came up to her and pulled his loping horse.
"Hello! I sure was worried," was his greeting, as his gloved hand went out to her.

"Did you run into that sandstorm ?" "It ran into me, Glenn, and buried me," she laughed.
His fine eyes lingered on her face with glad and warm glance, and the keen, apprehensive penetration of a lover.
"Well, under all that dust you look scared," he said.
"Scared! I was worse than that.

When I first ran into the flying dirt I was only afraid I'd lose my way--and my complexion.

But when the worst of the storm hit me--then I feared I'd lose my breath." "Did you face that sand and ride through it all ?" he queried.
"No, not all.