ndows and the sound of music and dancing which came out to
him suddenly through a lull in the wind.

He turned to the right, climbed over the low wall of broken ice-blocks
that bordered the lake, and pushed up the gentle slope to the open
passageway by which the two parts of the rambling house were joined
together. Crossing the porch with the last remnant of his strength, he
lifted his hand to knock, and fell heavily against the side door.

The noise, heard through the confusion within, awakened curiosity and
conjecture.

Just as when a letter comes to a forest cabin, it is turned over and
over, and many guesses are made as to the handwriting and the authorship
before it occurs to any one to open it and see who sent it, so was this
rude knocking at the gate the occasion of argument among the rustic
revellers as to what it might portend. Some thought it was the arrival
of the belated band. Others supposed the sound betokened a descent of
the Corey clan from the Upper Lake, or a change of heart on the part of
old Dan Dunning, who had refused to attend the ball because they would
not allow him to call out the figures. The guesses were various; but
no one thought of the possible arrival of a stranger at such an hour
on such a night, until Serena suggested that it would be a good plan
to open the door. Then the unbidden guest was discovered lying benumbed
along the threshold.

There was no want of knowledge as to what should be done with a
half-frozen man, and no lack of ready hands to do it. They carried him
not to the warm stove, but into the semi-arctic region of the parlour.
They rubbed his face and his hands vigorously with snow. They gave him
a drink of hot tea flavoured with whiskey--or perhaps it was a drink of
whiskey with a little hot tea in it--and then, as his senses began to
return to him, they rolled him in a blanket and left him on a sofa to
thaw out gradually, while they went on with the dance.

Naturally, he was the favourite subject of conversation for the next
hour.

"Who is he, anyhow? I never seen 'im before. Where'd he come from?"
asked the girls.

"I dunno," said Bill Moody; "he didn't say much. Talk seemed all froze
up. Frenchy, 'cordin' to what he did say. Guess he must a come from
Canady, workin' on a lumber job up Raquette River way. Got bounced out
o' the camp, p'raps. All them Frenchies is queer."

This summary of national character appeared to command general assent.

"Yaas," said Hos