Now
this window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains, which, as
I told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of
the peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close of
the day, and, when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the rocks of the
mountain-tops, all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there were
bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and the
river, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from
precipice to precipice, with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow
stretched across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of
spray.
"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a little while,
"if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be!"
"No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice, close at his ear.
"Bless me, what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobody
there. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great many
times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat down
again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't help
thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were really
all gold.
"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder than before.
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