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 passionately 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.”