ar do not promise much. There is nothing to see in this room,
except what we do see, and the contents of that chest, which is
locked."

Adam tried the lock, then shook the chest. "There's nothing in it,
anyhow," he said.

"As to the other room," she went on, "there is a bedroom set,--a
better one than I should have expected to find in a place like
this,--and a closet with some clothes in it. The man was about your
size, but the feminine garments--well--they are all about the length
of my bicycle skirt, and on the shelf there is a pile of bedding.
There is no trap door leading into either subterranean or overhead
apartments. In fact, there is nothing else, except a chair. It's very
uninteresting."

Adam had been moving about the room, and stopped before the bookshelf.
He wound the clock mechanically, and read the titles of the books
aloud. A chemistry, a book on electricity, a Bible, a worn copy of
Tennyson, the "Yankee at King Arthur's Court," and a patent medicine
almanac made up the list.

"There is one mysterious thing," he said, "and that is the packing
cases out under the shed. I can't make up my mind what they contain,
and I don't quite feel that we ought to open them; I should like to;
they look as if they might hold--"

"Canned goods?" she said interrogatively.

"I was going to say books, but I suppose we need canned lobster more,"
he assented. "If you are sure they contain oats, peas, beans, or
barley, or anything that the farmer knows, that would justify me in
opening them." He took up a hatchet, and they went out and inspected
the boxes, which were very large and strong.

"Let's not open them yet," she said. "There is one other treasure in
one of the bureau drawers; it is a box with seeds of almost every
kind. They ought to have known most of those things wouldn't grow up
this close to timber-line."

"Probably they were sent by the congressman from this district," Adam
said dryly. "But I'm not so sure they won't grow. Have you noticed how
warm it is, how very unlike what it has always been? Let us go to the
stables, and see what we can find there."

They went up a path, past a garden, fenced with woven wire, through
which the chickens looked longingly. Under some sashes forming a
primitive greenhouse, lettuce and radishes were making good headway.
Nothing else had come up, though there were many beds, with small
slips of board, like miniature tombstones, showing what had been
planted. The stables