cked
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 twic