into a contemptuous laugh.

"How was the man who sold my son's land dressed?"

"Smartly, in new clothes. The land agent remembered that they were a
reddish brown."

"That's the color of the thing in your hand. There was more light when I
pulled it out of the leaves yonder. Are you convinced now?"

"It's certainly enough to make one think."

"To think, but not to act! You seem strangely content with the former!
Isn't it plain that Prescott sold the land, and then, remembering that he
had worn a suit of rather unusual color which might help to identify him,
hid it in the bluff? Having other people in the house, he was, no doubt,
afraid to burn the clothes."

Curtis folded up the garments and laid them on his arm.

"Well," he said, "it sounds quite probable; but there are discrepancies.
I'll take these things along, and I guess you had better make for the
homestead and ask them to let you in. We'll have a lively blizzard down
on us very soon."

The trees bent above him as he spoke, the wood was filled with sound, and
fine flakes drove past in swirls. Then, as the wild gust subsided, they
heard a galloping horse going by outside the bluff and Curtis swung
sharply round toward his comrade.

"It's that blamed ranger of yours broken loose!" he cried. "Get after him
with my horse!"

The next moment the police had vanished and Jernyngham was left alone,
listening to the crackle of undergrowth, which was lost in a furious
uproar as the wood was swept by another gust. Then the thrashing trees
were blotted out by a white haze which stung his face with an intolerable
cold and filled his eyes. For a minute or two he could see nothing,
though he was conscious of a tumult of sound and broken twigs came
raining down upon him; then, lowering his head, he stumbled forward
between blurred trees, ignorant of where he was going. He struck one or
two of the trees and blundered into thickets, but at last he struggled
out of the wood and stopped for a few moments in dismay.

The light had gone; he could scarcely see a yard ahead, through the thick
white cloud that rushed past him. The wind buffeted him cruelly,
threatening to fling him down; the awful cold dulled his senses. He had
not intended to seek shelter at the homestead--the idea was repugnant--and
he hardly thought he meant to do so now, but, overwhelmed by the blizzard,
he could not stand still and freeze. Struggling heavily forward, he found
himself in the open; all trace