His yards were full and more coal was coming in, but he saw that if he let the farmers beat him his power to overcharge them another time would be gone.  The new combine was dangerous, since the cooperative plan might be extended to the purchase of chemical manures, seed, and lime.  In the meantime, there was plenty of peat, stacked so that it would escape much damage, on Malton Head; but Askew and his friends could not get it down.  Carts could not be used on the fells and the clumsy wooden sledges the farmers called stone-boats would not run across the boggy moor.  The few loads Kit brought down at the cost of heavy labor were carried off by anxious house-wives as soon as they arrived.

The weather was helping the monopolist, but he could not tell if a change to frost would be an advantage or not.  Although it would make the need for coal felt keenly, it might simplify the transport of peat.  When Bell thought about it, and the colliery company’s bills came in, he felt disturbed, but he was stubborn and would not lower his price yet.

At length the rain stopped, and after a heavy fall of snow keen frost began.  The white fells glittered in cold sunshine that only touched the bottom of the dale for an hour or two.  The ice on the tarn was covered, so that skating was impossible, and Thorn, feeling the need for amusement, had a few sledges made.  He had learned something about winter sports in Switzerland, and one afternoon stood with a party of young men and women at the top of Malton Head.  They had practised with a pair of skis farther down the hill, where one or two were sliding on a small Swiss luge, but Thorn wanted to find a long run for his Canadian-pattern toboggan.

Grace stood near him; her face touched with warm color and her eyes sparkling as she looked about.  She did not altogether approve of Alan Thorn, but she was young and vigorous and enjoyed the sport.  Besides, she loved the high fells and now they looked majestic in the pale sunshine.  They were not all white; dark rocks with glittering veins edged the snowfield, and the scarred face of Force Crag ran down where the shoulder of the moor broke off four hundred feet below.  Where the sun did not strike, the snow was a curious delicate gray, and the bottom of the dale was colored an ethereal blue.  The pale-gray riband, winding in a graceful curve round the crag, marked the old green road that was sometimes used for bringing down dry fern, and Grace’s face got thoughtful as she noted a row of men and horses some distance off.  She imagined they were Askew and his helpers.

In the meantime, Thorn studied her with artistic satisfaction.  He had an eye for female beauty and the girl looked very well in her rather shabby furs.  Her pose was light and graceful, her figure finely modeled, and he liked the glow the cold had brought to her skin.  Moreover, he liked her joyous confidence when they tried the luge on a risky slide.  She was as steady-nerved and plucky as a man, and was marked by a fine fastidiousness that did not characterize other girls he knew.