d Mrs. Rightbody, in an indignant whisper, as
her daughter again ranged beside her. "I warned you especially,
Alice--that--that--"

"What?" interrupted Miss Alice curtly.

"That you would need your chemiloons and high boots," said Mrs.
Rightbody, in a regretful undertone, slightly increasing her distance
from the guides.

Miss Alice shrugged her pretty shoulders scornfully, but ignored her
mother's implication.

"You were particularly warned against going into the valley at this
season," she only replied grimly.

Mrs. Rightbody raised her eyes impatiently.

"You know how anxious I was to discover your poor father's strange
correspondent, Alice. You have no consideration."

"But when YOU HAVE discovered him--what then?" queried Miss Alice.

"What then?"

"Yes. My belief is, that you will find the telegram only a mere business
cipher, and all this quest mere nonsense."

"Alice! Why, YOU yourself thought your father's conduct that night very
strange. Have you forgotten?"

The young lady had NOT, but, for some far-reaching feminine reason,
chose to ignore it at that moment, when her late tumble in the snow was
still fresh in her mind.

"And this woman, whoever she may be--" continued Mrs. Rightbody.

"How do you know there's a woman in the case?" interrupted Miss Alice,
wickedly I fear.

"How do--I--know--there's a woman?" slowly ejaculated Mrs. Rightbody,
floundering in the snow and the unexpected possibility of such a
ridiculous question. But here her guide flew to her assistance, and
estopped further speech. And, indeed, a grave problem was before them.

The road that led to their single place of refuge--a cabin, half hotel,
half trading-post, scarce a mile away--skirted the base of the rocky
dome, and passed perilously near the precipitous wall of the
valley. There was a rapid descent of a hundred yards or more to
this terrace-like passage; and the guides paused for a moment of
consultation, cooly oblivious, alike to the terrified questioning of
Mrs. Rightbody, or the half-insolent independence of the daughter. The
elder guide was russet-bearded, stout, and humorous: the younger was
dark-bearded, slight, and serious.

"Ef you kin git young Bunker Hill to let you tote her on your shoulders,
I'll git the Madam to hang on to me," came to Mrs. Rightbody's horrified
ears as the expression of her particular companion.

"Freeze to the old gal, and don't reckon on me if the daughter starts in
to play it a