welcome nectar.

It is among the foothills nestling at the base of this mountain that
Will has chosen the site of his future permanent residence. Here there
are many little lakes, two of which are named Irma and Arta, in honor
of his daughters. Here he owns a ranch of forty thousand acres, but the
home proper will comprise a tract of four hundred and eighty acres. The
two lakes referred to are in this tract, and near them Will proposes to
erect a palatial residence. To him, as he has said, it is the Mecca
of earth, and thither he hastens the moment he is free from duty and
obligation. In that enchanted region he forgets for a little season the
cares and responsibilities of life.

A curious legend is told of one of the lakes that lie on the border of
this valley. It is small--half a mile long and a quarter wide--but its
depth is fathomless. It is bordered and shadowed by tall and stately
pines, quaking-asp and birch trees, and its waters are pure and ice-cold
the year round. They are medicinal, too, and as yet almost unknown to
white men. Will heard the legend of the lake from the lips of an old
Cheyenne warrior.

"It was the custom of my tribe," said the Indian, "to assemble around
this lake once every month, at the hour of midnight, when the moon is
at its full. Soon after midnight a canoe filled with the specters of
departed Cheyenne warriors shot out from the eastern side of the
lake and crossed rapidly to the western border; there it suddenly
disappeared.

"Never a word or sound escaped from the specters in the canoe. They sat
rigid and silent, and swiftly plied their oars. All attempts to get a
word from them were in vain.

"So plainly were the canoe and its occupants seen that the features of
the warriors were readily distinguished, and relatives and friends were
recognized."

For years, according to the legend, the regular monthly trip was made,
and always from the eastern to the western border of the lake. In 1876
it suddenly ceased, and the Indians were much alarmed. A party of them
camped on the bank of the lake, and watchers were appointed for every
night. It was fancied that the ghostly boatmen had changed the date
of their excursion. But in three months there was no sign of canoe or
canoeists, and this was regarded as an omen of evil.

At a council of the medicine men, chiefs, and wiseacres of the tribe
it was decided that the canoeing trip had been a signal from the Great
Spirit--the canoe had pr