The Shepherd of the Hills | Page 6

Howitt, you've got education;
it's easy to see that; I've always wanted to ask somebody like you, do
you believe in hants? Do you reckon folks ever come back once they're
dead and gone?"
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 nobody 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 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