“Usually he moves into town for the winter.  Last year the winter was so mild that he decided to try to stick one through; but surely, he’s got a dose this time.  Pretty bad for a sick man, I reckon.”

“Anybody with him?”

“Wife and three children—­three of the cutest kiddies you ever saw.  Oh, he’s comfortable enough, for he’s got a fine house.  You know, it’s great out here among the pine hills in the summer; but just now, excuse me.”

“Is it far?”

“No.”  The driver looked with concern at the storm which was coming again down the mountain like a great white wave.  “I think perhaps we’ll have to stop at the Hickson’s tonight,” he said.

The travelers were soon enwrapped in a swirling mantle of snow.  Slowly and carefully the dug-ways had to be traversed.  The sky was dense and black.  The storm became a blizzard, and the cold became intense.  The men wrapped themselves in additional blankets.  The horses went patiently on, the driver peering anxiously ahead; but it must have been well after noon before the outlines of a large building near at hand bulked out of the leaden sky.

“I’m glad we’re here,” exclaimed the driver.

“Where?” asked Dorian.

“At Hickson’s.”

They drove into the yard and under a shed where the horses were unhitched and taken into a stable.  A light as if from a wood fire in a grate danced upon the white curtain of the unshaded windows.  With his mail-bag, the driver shuffled his way through the snow to the kitchen door and knocked.  The door opened immediately and Mrs. Hickson, recognizing the mail-driver, bade him come in.  Two children peered curiously from the doorway of another room.  Dorian a little nervously awaited the possibility of Carlia’s appearing.

It was pleasant to get shelter and a warm welcome in such weather.  After the travelers had warmed themselves by the kitchen stove, they were invited into another room to meet Mr. Hickson, who was reclining in a big arm chair before the grate.  He welcomed them without rising, but pointed them to chairs by the fire.  They talked of the weather, of course.  Mr. Hickson reasoned that it was foolish to complain about something which they could not possible control.  Dorian was introduced as a traveler, no explanation being asked or given as to his business.  He was welcome.  In fact, it was a pleasure, said the host, to have company even for an evening, as very few people ever stopped over night, especially in the winter.  Dorian soon discovered that this man was not a rough mountaineer, but a man of culture, trying to prolong his earth-life by the aid of mountain air, laden with the aroma of the pines.  The wife went freely in and out of the room, the children also; but somewhat to Dorian’s surprise, no Carlia appeared.  If she were there in the house, she surely would be helping with the meal which seemed to be in the way of preparation.

The storm continued all afternoon.  There could be no thought of moving on that day.  And indeed, it was pleasant sitting thus by the blazing log in the fireplace and listening, for the most part, to the intelligent talk of the host.  The evening meal was served early, and the two guests ate with the family in the dining room.  Still no Carlia.