Part 2 (1/2)
The man from the city saw that his big host was terribly in earnest, and answered quietly, ”No, I do not believe in such things, Mr. Matthews; but if it should be true, I do not see why we should fear the dead.”
The other shook his head; ”I don't know--I don't know, sir; I always said I didn't believe, but some things is mighty queer.” He seemed to be shaping his thought for further speech, when again the girl's laugh rang clear along the mountain side. The young people were returning from the spring.
The mountaineer relighted his pipe, while Young Matt and Sammy seated themselves on the step, and Mrs. Matthews coming from the house joined the group.
”We've just naturally got to find somebody to stay with them sheep, Dad,” said the son; ”there ain't n.o.body there to-night, and as near as I can make out there's three ewes and their lambs missing. There ain't a bit of use in us trying to depend on Pete.”
”I'll ride over on Bear Creek to-morrow, and see if I can get that fellow Buck told us about,” returned the father.
”You find it hard to get help on the ranch?” inquired the stranger.
”Yes, sir, we do,” answered Old Matt. ”We had a good 'nough man 'till about a month ago; since then we've been gettin' along the best we could. But with some a stayin' out on the range, an' not comin' in, an' the wolves a gettin' into the corral at night, we'll lose mighty nigh all the profits this year. The worst of it is, there ain't much show to get a man; unless that one over on Bear Creek will come. I reckon, though, he'll be like the rest.”
He sat staring gloomily into the night.
”Is the work so difficult?” Mr. Howitt asked.
”Difficult, no; there ain't nothing to do but tendin' to the sheep. The man has to stay at the ranch of nights, though.”
Mr. Howitt was wondering what staying at the ranch nights could have to do with the difficulty, when, up from the valley below, from out the darkness and the mists, came a strange sound; a sound as if someone were singing a song without words. So wild and weird was the melody; so pa.s.sionately sweet the voice, it seemed impossible that the music should come from human lips. It was more as though some genie of the forest-clad hills wandered through the mists, singing as he went with the joy of his possessions.
Mrs. Matthews came close to her husband's side, and placed her hand upon his shoulder as he half rose from his chair, his pipe fallen to the floor. Young Matt rose to his feet and moved closer to the girl, who was also standing. The stranger alone kept his seat and he noted the agitation of the others in wonder.
For some moments the sound continued, now soft and low, with the sweet sadness of the wind in the pines; then clear and ringing, it echoed and reechoed along the mountain; now pleadings, as though a soul in darkness prayed a gleam of light; again rising, swelling exultingly, as in glad triumph, only to die away once more to that moaning wail, seeming at last to lose itself in the mists.
Slowly Old Matt sank back into his seat and the stranger heard him mutter, ”Poor boy, poor boy.” Aunt Mollie was weeping. Suddenly Sammy sprang from the steps and running down the walk to the gate sent a clear, piercing call over the valley: ”O--h--h, Pete.” The group on the porch listened intently. Again the girl called, and yet again: ”O--h--h, Pete.” But there was no answer.
”It's no use, honey,” said Mrs. Matthews, breaking the silence; ”it just ain't no use;” and the young girl came slowly back to the porch.
CHAPTER IV.
A CHAT WITH AUNT MOLLIE.
When the stranger looked from his window the next morning, the valley was still wrapped in its gray blanket. But when he and his host came from the house after breakfast, the sun had climbed well above the ridge, and, save a long, loosely twisted rope of fog that hung above the distant river, the mists were gone. The city man exclaimed with delight at the beauty of the scene.
As they stood watching the sheep--white specks in the distance-- climbing out of the valley where the long shadows still lay, to the higher, sunlit pastures, Mr. Matthews said, ”We've all been a talkin' about you this mornin', Mr. Howitt, and we'd like mighty well to have you stop with us for a spell. If I understood right, you're just out for your health anyway, and you'll go a long ways, sir, before you find a healthier place than this right here. We ain't got much such as you're used to, I know, but what we have is yourn, and we'd be proud to have you make yourself to home for as long as you'd like to stay. You see it's been a good while since we met up with anybody like you, and we count it a real favor to have you.”
Mr. Howitt accepted the invitation with evident pleasure, and, soon after, the mountaineer rode away to Bear Creek, on his quest for a man to herd sheep. Young Matt had already gone with his team to the field on the hillside west of the house, and the brown pony stood at the gate ready for Sammy Lane to return to her home on Dewey Bald.
”I'd like the best in the world to stay, Aunt Mollie,” she said, in answer to Mrs. Matthews' protest; ”but you know there is no one to feed the stock, and besides Mandy Ford will be back sometime to-day.”
The older woman's arm was around the girl as they went down the walk. ”You must come over real often, now, honey; you know it won't be long 'til you'll be a leavin' us for good. How do you reckon you'll like bein' a fine lady, and livin' in the city with them big folks?”
The girl's face flushed, and her eyes had that wide questioning look, as she answered slowly, ”I don't know, Aunt Mollie; I ain't never seen a sure 'nough fine lady; I reckon them city folks are a heap different from us, but I reckon they're just as human. It would be nice to have lots of money and pretties, but somehow I feel like there's a heap more than that to think about. Any how,”
she added brightly, ”I ain't goin' for quite a spell yet, and you know 'Preachin' Bill' says, 'There ain't no use to worry 'bout the choppin' 'til the dogs has treed the c.o.o.n.' I'll sure come over every day.”
Mrs. Matthews kissed the girl, and then, standing at the gate, watched until pony and rider had disappeared in the forest.
Later Aunt Mollie, with a woman's fondness for a quiet chat, brought the potatoes she was preparing for dinner, to sit with Mr.