orse of conscience which comes from a
realization of neglected duty and disregarded opportunity. It was late
in the afternoon before he got back to the town.

The next day Dorian made inquiries as to how he could reach the place
indicated by the address, and he learned that it was a ranch house well
up in the mountains. There was a daily mail in that direction, except
when the roads and the weather hindered; and it seemed that these would
now be hinderances. The threatened storm came, and with it high wind
which piled the snow into deep, hard drifts, making the mountain road
nearly impassible. Dorian found the mail-carrier who told him that it
would be impossible to make a start until the storm had ceased. All day
the snow fell, and all day Dorian fretted impatiently, and was tempted
to once more go out to Mr. and Mrs. Whitman; but he did not. Christmas
was only three days off. He could reach home and spend the day with his
mother, but there would be considerable expense, and he felt as if he
must be on the ground so that at the soonest possible moment he could
continue on the trail which he had found. The pleasure of the home
Christmas must this time be sacrificed, for was not he in very deed
going into the mountains to seek that which was lost.

The storm ceased toward evening, but the postman would not make a start
until next morning. Dorian joined him then, and mounted beside him. The
sky was not clear, the clouds only breaking and drifting about as if in
doubt whether to go or to stay. The road was heavy, and it was all the
two horses could do to draw the light wagon with its small load. Dorian
wondered how Carlia had ever come that way. Of course, it had been
before the heavy snow, when traveling was not so bad.

"Who lives at this place?" asked Dorian of the driver, giving the box
number Carlia had sent.

"That? Oh, that's John Hickson's place."

"A rancher?"

"No; not exactly. He's out here mostly for his health."

"Does he live here in the mountains the year around?"

"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."