“Yes; Lee Virginia is Lize Wetherford’s daughter.”
“But the girl is charming.”
“I cannot understand it. Hugh came home a week or so ago full of her praise—” And at this point her voice dropped lower and the other drew closer.
Outside, the young people stood in silence. There was no moon, and the mountains rose darkly, a sheer wall at the end of the garden, their tops cutting into the starry sky with a dull edge, over which a dim white cone peered.
“That snow-peak is Wolftooth, and thirty miles from here, and at the head of my ‘beat,’” said the ranger, after a pause, as they leaned against the railing and looked away to the south. “I go up that ridge which you see faintly at the left of the main canon, and through that deep notch which is above timber-line.”
The girl’s eyes widened with awe of the big, silent, dark world he indicated. “Aren’t you afraid to start out on such a trip alone—I mean, don’t you dread it?”
“I’ll be sorry to start back, yes, but not because of the dark. I’ve enjoyed my visit here so much it will be hard to say good-night.”
“It seems strange to me that you should prefer this wild country to England.”
“Do you like the East better than the West?”
“In some ways; but then, you see, I was born out here.”