he breakfast room,
Miss Gladden and Rutherford being the last to enter.

"Whew!" exclaimed the latter, rubbing his hands, "this seems a little
wintry, doesn't it? Looks like a storm, too!"

"Yes," said Morgan, glancing up, "we'll probably have a snow-storm
before noon."

"How do you pleasure seekers intend to spend the day?" inquired
Houston, addressing Miss Gladden and Rutherford.

"I think I shall spend it beside the fire," replied Miss Gladden,
shivering slightly, and sitting down for a moment beside the little
box stove, where a wood fire was crackling and spluttering; "I haven't
quite decided what to do, because I didn't come out here prepared for
snow-storms."

"I believe," said Rutherford, "I'll take a day off and develop some of
the pictures I've taken lately, and sort over my collection of
views."

"That will be delightful," exclaimed Miss Gladden, smiling brightly at
Lyle who had entered the room in time to hear Rutherford's remark, "We
will make Mr. Rutherford entertain us with his collection, won't we
Lyle?"

Lyle smiled in assent, but Miss Gladden very quickly detected traces
of trouble in her face, and determined, if possible, to gain her
confidence, and find the cause. Rutherford also noticed the change in
her appearance, and remarked, after she had again left the room:

"Miss Maverick doesn't look like herself this morning, I wonder what
is the matter."

"I think there has been a storm of some kind in the kitchen," Houston
replied, "I heard pretty loud talk when I first came in."

"Yes," said Morgan, joining in the conversation, "she and the old man
have some high old times, once in a while; and one thing is curious,
the girl never seems afraid of him, and that's more than can be said
of many of the men around here."

"Why," asked Houston, "is he considered dangerous?"

"He is a pretty tough customer," said Morgan, "I guess there's no job
too dirty for him to do, if he's only paid for it;" and then added
carelessly, "that's the kind of a man Blaisdell likes to have 'round
once in a while."

"What does he do?" asked Houston, "does he work in the mines?"

"He used to," replied Morgan, "but he don't do any more underground
work, he--"

"Doesn't he?" interrupted Haight, with a peculiar emphasis.

"Oh, yes, in some ways, plenty of it," laughed Morgan, "but I was
speaking of the mines; he's a sort of foreman now in one of 'em, and
tends to the sorting of the ore occasionally; helps Haight