ove into the High Valley. It
was one of those natural parks, four miles long, which lie like
heaven-planted gardens among the Colorado ranges. The richest of grass
clothed it; fine trees grew in clumps and clusters here and there; and the
spaces about the house where fences of barbed wire defended the grass from
the cattle, seemed a carpet of wild-flowers.

Clover exclaimed with delight at the view. The ranges which lapped and
held the high, sheltered upland in embrace opened toward the south, and
revealed a splendid lonely peak, on whose summit a drift of freshly-fallen
snow was lying. The contrast with the verdure and bloom below was
charming.

The cabin--it was little more--stood facing this view, and was backed by a
group of noble red cedars. It was built of logs, long and low, with a rude
porch in front supported on unbarked tree trunks. Two fine collies rushed
to meet them, barking vociferously; and at the sound Clarence hurried to
the door. He met them with great enthusiasm, lifted out Mrs. Hope, then
Clover, and then began shouting for his chum, who was inside.

"Hollo, Geoff! where are you? Hurry up; they've come." Then, as he
appeared, "Ladies and gentleman, my partner!"

Geoffrey Templestowe was a tall, sinewy young Englishman, with ruddy hair
and beard, grave blue eyes, and an unmistakable air of good breeding. He
wore a blue flannel shirt and high boots like Clarence's, yet somehow he
made Clarence look a little rough and undistinguished. He was quiet in
speech, reserved in manner, and seemed depressed and under a cloud; but
Clover liked his face at once. He looked both strong and kind, she
thought.

The house consisted of one large square room in the middle, which served
as parlor and dining-room both, and on either side two bedrooms. The
kitchen was in a separate building. There was no lack of comfort, though
things were rather rude, and the place had a bare, masculine look. The
floor was strewn with coyote and fox skins. Two or three easy-chairs stood
around the fireplace, in which, July as it was, a big log was blazing.
Their covers were shabby and worn; but they looked comfortable, and were
evidently in constant use. There was not the least attempt at prettiness
anywhere. Pipes and books and old newspapers littered the chairs and
tables; when an extra seat was needed Clarence simply tipped a great pile
of these on to the floor. A gun-rack hung upon the wall, together with
sundry long stock-whips a