d her napkin, laid it across her lap
and waited.

"They can't do much till this storm lets up," a man at the next table
observed to his companion. "Uh course, I s'pose they'll make some
kinda bluff at trying--but believe me, these hills is no snap in a
snowstorm, and don't I know it! I got caught out, once,--and I like to
of stayed out. No, sir--"

"How's the trains, Barney?" the other called to a man who had just
come in from the office.

"Trains! Ain't any trains, and there won't be. There's four slides
between here and Keddie--Lord knows how many there is from there on
down. Wires are all down, so they can't get any word. Nothing moving
the other, way, either. It's the rain coming first, that softened
things up, and then the weight of the snow pulled things loose. Take
your time about your breakfast," he grinned. "You'll have quite a
board bill before you get away from here."

"Anybody starting out to hunt that girl?" the first speaker asked him.
"Can't do much till the storm lets up, can they?"

"Well, if they wait till the storm lets up," Barney retorted drily,
"they might just as well wait till spring. What kinda folks do you
think we are, around here? Forest Service started a bunch out already.
Bill Dunevant, he's getting another party made up."

"It's a fright," the second man declared, "I don't know a darn thing
about these mountains, but if somebody'll stake me to a horse, I'll
go and do what I can."

"When was it they brought word?"

"Fellow got down to the station about an hour ago and phoned in, is
the way I heard it," Barney said. "He had to wait till the office
opened up."

Mrs. Singleton Corey laid her unused napkin on the table beside her
unused knife and fork, and rose from her chair. She had a feeling that
this matter concerned her, and that she did not want to hear those
crude men pulling her trouble into their talk. With composed
obliviousness to her surroundings she walked out into the office,
quite ignoring the astonishment of the waitress who held Mrs.
Singleton Corey's butter and two biscuits in her hands by the table.
She waited, just within the office, until the man Barney sensed her
impatience and returned from the dining room.

"I should like to go to a place called Toll-Gate cabin," she told him
calmly. "Can you arrange for a conveyance of some kind? I see that an
automobile is out of the question, probably, with so much snow on the
ground. I should like to start as soon as po