imagined that
one could get up that way, but could not see why anybody should wish to
do so, and the snow did not seem to have been disturbed. After a
minute or two he turned back into the wood with a gesture of
disappointment.

The man he had followed had apparently come there to meet somebody, but
although the mine was conveniently near the town it was a cold and
cheerless spot for a rendezvous, Foster surmised from this that secrecy
was important, but after all there was nothing to indicate that the
matter had anything to do with him. As he went back he heard a musical
humming in the tops of the pines and a lump of wet snow, slipping from
a branch, struck his face. The humming grew louder until the wood was
filled with sound, and he began to feel clammy and hot. A warm Chinook
wind from the Pacific was sweeping up the valley, driving back the
frost.

When he reached the town the snow was wet and the lights were out, but
the post office was open, and having telegraphed his new address, he
went in to ask if there was any mail for him. A girl was busy behind a
lettered brass wicket, but did not look up, and Foster saw the man in
whom he was interested standing among some others farther along the
counter. The fellow came towards him.

"Been for a walk?" he said. "You get up early."

"I'm used to that," Foster answered with a careless smile. "Anyhow, I
want my mail, and you enjoy breakfast better if you've been out first."

"Sure thing," agreed the other. "But you want to put on rubber shoes
when a Chinook wind strikes this town."

Then the girl clerk looked up and when Foster inquired for letters
threw him two. His companion asked for his, giving the name of
Telford, and she indicated the lettering on the wicket.

"Farther along, where you came from! Can't you read the alphabet?"

"I can, now I see it," said the other good-humoredly as he turned back.

On the whole, Foster was glad he had picked up the letters as the girl
threw them down. It is customary in Western cities for people to call
for their mail and girl clerks are sometimes curt, but she seemed to
think it strange that the fellow had come to the wrong wicket. If he
had had an object for doing so, he had learned Foster's name, but the
latter did not think he had seen the postmarks or that one letter had
an English stamp. Still, he had noted that Foster's boots were wet,
which indicated that the latter had gone farther than the post offi