It appeared to be the interjectional, half listless, half perfunctory, domestic dialogue of an old man and a girl, of which the words were unintelligible.

Their voices indicated the solitude of the mountain, but without sadness; they were mysterious without being awe-inspiring.
They might have uttered the dreariest commonplaces, but, in their vast isolation, they seemed musical and eloquent.

Lance drew his first sigh,--they had suggested dinner.
Careless as his nature was, he was too cautious to risk detection in broad daylight.

He contented himself for the present with endeavoring to locate that particular part of the depths from which the voices seemed to rise.

It was more difficult, however, to select some other way of penetrating it than by the stage road.