tening and
cheering us all, and starting us in right directions. Oh, you must know
her. I can't think how you ever will, for of course she can never come
to Colorado; but somehow it shall be managed. Now tell me about _your_
people. How many are there of you?"

"Eleven, and I scarcely remember my oldest brother, he went away from
home so long ago. Jim was my chum,--he's no end of a good fellow. He's
in New Zealand now. And Beatrice--that's the next girl to Imogen--is
awfully nice too, and there are one or two jolly ones among the smaller
kids. Oh, you'll like them all, especially my mother. We'll go over
some day and make them a visit."

"That will be nice; but we shall have to wait till we grow rich before
we can take such a long journey. Lion, do you think by-and-by we could
manage to build another house, or move your cabin farther down the
Valley? I want to live nearer Clover and Elsie. You'll have to be away a
good deal, of course, as the other boys are, and a mile is 'a goodish
bit,' as Imogen would say. It would make all the difference in the world
if I had the sisters close at hand to 'put my lips to when so
dispoged.'"

"Why, of course we will. Geoff built the Hutlet, you know; I didn't put
any money into it. I chose the position because--well, the view was
good, and I didn't know how Moggy would hit it off with the rest, you
understand. I thought she might do better a little farther away; but
with you it's quite different of course. I dare say the Hutlet could be
moved; I'll talk to Geoff about it."

"I don't care how simple it is, so long as it is near the others," went
on Johnnie. "It's easy enough to make a simple house pretty and nice. I
am so glad that your house is in this valley, Lion."

A little pause ensued.

"What was that?" asked Johnnie, suddenly.

"What?"

"That sound? It seemed to come from down the canyon. Such a very odd
echo, if it was an echo!"

"What kind of a sound? I heard nothing."

"Voices, I should say, if it were not quite impossible that it could be
voices,--very low and hushed, as if a ghost were confabulating with
another ghost about a quarter of a mile away."

"Oh, that must be just a fancy," protested Lionel. "There isn't a living
soul within a mile of us."

[Illustration: "Voices, I should say, if it were not quite impossible
that it could be voices,--very low and hushed."--PAGE 260.]

And at the same moment Dorry, a couple of hundred feet distant, was
remarking