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Within thirty minutes the mountains from end to end of the sky-line were lost in the sweep of a coming wind, and at three o'clock snow struck the valley like a pall. Mears, greatly disturbed, ordered the men off the grade and into the caboose. McCloud had been inspecting culverts ahead, and had started for the train when the snow drove across the valley.
Lance Dunning, standing with a cigar in his hand and one leg thrown over a corner of the table, was facing McCloud, who stood before him with his hand on a chair. Lance was speaking as Dicksie looked into the room, and in curt tones: "My men were acting under my orders."
"Oh, Marion, thank Heaven, you are reviving! I have been frightened to death. Don't mind the telephone; it is Mr. McCloud. I didn't know what to do, so I telephoned him." "But you had better answer him," said Marion faintly. The telephone bell was ringing wildly. "Oh, no! he can wait. How are you, dear? I don't wonder you were frightened to death. Marion, he means to kill us every one!"
At the salmon-hatching establishment on the McCloud River I halted a week to examine the limestone belt, grandly developed there, to learn what I could of the inhabitants of the river and its banks, and to give time for the fresh snow that I knew had fallen on the mountain to settle somewhat, with a view to making the ascent.
"You don't see that one reason why Miss Dunning's line sounds better than yours is owing to the differences in your voices. If she will repeat the chorus, finishing with her line, you will see the difference." "Miss Dunning, take the note-book," begged Whispering Smith. "And rise, of course," suggested McCloud. "Oh, the note-book! I shall be afraid to hold it. Where are the verses, Mr. Smith?
I will not allow my cousin to plunge into anything that may cost him his life or ruin it." She turned suddenly, and her eyes fell on McCloud. "I am not willing to leave either myself or my cousin in a false position. I regret especially that Mr. McCloud should be brought into so unpleasant a scene, because he has already suffered rudeness at my own hands " McCloud flushed.
McCloud put in a switch below Piedmont, opened a material-yard, and began track-laying toward the lower Crawling Stone Valley, when Mears said it was time to stop work till spring. When McCloud told him he wanted track across the divide and into the lower valley by spring, Mears threw up his hands. But there was metal in the old man, and he was for orders all the time.
"Wie geht es? Don't pretend you can't make out my German. He is trying to let on he is not a Dutchman," observed Whispering Smith to McCloud. "You wouldn't believe it, but I can remember when Farrell wore wooden shoes and lighted his pipe with a candle. He sleeps under a feather-bed yet. Du Sang is in town, Farrell."
'What's the matter with your face, Bill? he says, while I was looking at him; now that's straight. That was George McCloud, right over there, the first time I ever set eyes on him or him on me. The assertion was met with silence such as might be termed marked.
He talked to her learnedly about fixed charges, but even these seemed difficult to arrive at. There was no rent, because the building belonged to the railroad company, and when the real-estate and tax man came around and talked to McCloud about rent for the Boney Street property, McCloud told him to chase himself.
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