st like a bomb.
"Help! All of you!" he cried, and his voice cracked like a rifle. "They
are lost out on the plain in the storm, and they were wandering away
from the town! Miss Morgan! Sylvia! My child! And the young man,
Harley!"

There was no mistaking the "King's" meaning. Here was a mountain man,
one who knew of what he was talking, one who would raise no false alarm.
Both grief and command were in his voice, and the Dakotans responded
upon the instant; they knew Sylvia, too--her fresh, young beauty, coming
into so small a town, was noticed at once. To the last man they went out
into the storm to the rescue; and there were many women who were
willing, too.

The candidate seized Mr. Plummer's arm in a fierce grasp.

"Do you mean to say that Sylvia and Harley are lost in that?" he cried,
and he pointed into the mass of driving snow.

"Ay, they are there," said the "King," "but we will find them."

"We will find them," echoed Jimmy Grayson, and, though they strove to
make him stay at the hotel, he drew his overcoat about his ears and was
by his side as "King" Plummer led the way. Hobart, Blaisdell, even old
Tremaine, and Churchill as well, were there, too.

They knew that Sylvia and Harley were somewhere north of the town, and,
dividing into groups, five or six to a group, they spread out to a
great distance. They carried whiskey for warmth, and lanterns with
which to signal to each other, and for guidance in the night that might
come before they returned. In the twilight of the storm these lanterns
twinkled dimly.

The "King" himself carried a lantern, and Jimmy Grayson, by his side,
could read his face. Mr. Plummer had not told him a word, but he could
guess the story. He had come upon them, there was a violent scene of
some kind, and now the "King," with death threatening "his little girl,"
was stricken with remorse. All the candidate's anger against Mr. Plummer
was gone, melted away suddenly--and he saw that the "King's" wrath
against himself was gone the same way. Now he felt only pity for the
stricken man.

The great line of men moved across the plain towards the north, calling
to each other now and then and waving the dim lanterns. Jimmy Grayson
listened for the welcome cry that the lost had been found, but it did
not come. The "King" did not speak save to give orders--he had naturally
assumed command of the relief party, and his position was not disputed.

They advanced far northward, and they notice