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Page 52
"Oh, no; I'm quite sure he wouldn't. Only I thought," doubtfully, "that as
you've always admired Phil's room so much, you might like to secure it now
that we have to go."
"Well, yes. If you were to be here, I might. If that man who's so sick had
got better, or gone away, or something, I dare say I should have settled
down in his room and been comfortable enough. But he seems just about as
he was when we came, so there's no use waiting; and I'd rather go to the
Shoshone anyway. I always said it was a mistake that we didn't go there in
the first place. It was Dr. Hope's doing, and I have not the least
confidence in him. He hasn't osculated me once since I came."
"Hasn't he?" said Clover, feeling her voice tremble, and perfectly aware
of the shaking of Phil's shoulders behind her.
"No; and I don't call just putting his ear to my chest, listening. Dr.
Bangs, at home, would be ashamed to come to the house without his
stethoscope. I mean to move this afternoon. I've given Mrs. Marsh
notice."
So Mrs. Watson and her belongings went to the Shoshone, and Clover packed
the trunks with a lighter heart for her departure.
The last day of July found Clover and Phil settled in the Ute Park. It was
a wild and beautiful valley, some hundreds of feet higher than St.
Helen's, and seemed the very home of peace. A Sunday-like quiet pervaded
the place, whose stillness was never broken except by bird-songs and the
rustle of the pine branches.
The sides of the valley near its opening were dotted here and there with
huts and cabins belonging to parties who had fled from the heat of the
plains for the summer. At the upper end stood the ranch house,--a large,
rather rudely built structure,--and about it were a number of cabins and
cottages, in which two, four, or six people could be accommodated. Clover
and Phil were lodged in one of these. The tiny structure contained only a
sitting and two sleeping rooms, and was very plain and bare. But there was
a fireplace; wood was abundant, so that a cheerful blaze could be had for
cool evenings; and the little piazza faced the south, and made a sheltered
sitting place on windy days.
One pleasant feature of the spot was its nearness to the High Valley.
Clarence and Geoff Templestowe thought nothing of riding four miles; and
scarcely a day passed when one or both did not come over. They brought
wild-flowers, or cream, or freshly-churned butter, as offerings from the
ranch; and, what Clover valued as a greater kindness yet, they brought
Phil's beloved broncho, Sorrel, and arranged with the owner of the Ute
ranch that it should remain as long as Phil was there. This gave Phil
hours of delightful exercise every day; and though sometimes he set out
early in the morning for the High Valley, and stayed later in the
afternoon than his sister thought prudent, she had not the heart to chide,
so long as he was visibly getting better hour by hour.
Sundays the friends spent together, as a matter of course. Geoff waited
till his little home service for the ranchmen was over, and then would
gallop across with Clarence to pass the rest of the day. There was no lack
of kind people at the main house and in the cottages to take an interest
in the delicate boy and his sweet, motherly sister; so Clover had an
abundance of volunteer matrons, and plenty of pleasant ways in which to
spend those occasional days on which the High Valley attaches failed to
appear.
It was a simple, healthful life, the happiest on the whole which they had
led since leaving home. Once or twice Mr. Thurber Wade made his
appearance, gallantly mounted, and freighted with flowers and kind
messages from his mother to Miss Carr; but Clover was never sorry when he
rode away again. Somehow he did not seem to belong to the Happy Valley, as
in her heart she denominated the place.
There was a remarkable deal of full moon that month, as it seemed; at
least, the fact served as an excuse for a good many late transits between
the valley and the park. Now and then either Clarence or Geoff would lead
over a saddle-horse and give Clover a good gallop up or down the valley,
which she always enjoyed. The habit which she had extemporized for her
visit to the High Valley answered very well, and Mrs. Hope had lent her a
hat.
On one of these occasions she and Clarence had ridden farther than usual,
quite down to the end of the pass, where the road dipped, and descended to
the little watering-place of Canyon Creek,--a Swiss-like village of hotels
and lodging-houses and shops for the sale of minerals and mineral waters,
set along the steep sides of a narrow green valley. They were chatting
gayly, and had just agreed that it was time to turn their horses' heads
homeward, when a sudden darkening made them aware that one of the
unexpected thunder-gusts peculiar to the region was upon them.
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