at the child-face smiling at him from the window, then started
to go. But at the first step his foot struck against some object which
gave out a metallic sound, and stooping quickly, he raised from the
snow a small pistol. One glance showed him that it was in perfect
order, and every barrel loaded.

He remained for some time turning this object over and over in his
hand, his nether lip drawn between his teeth. At last he glanced
toward the window. The child was no longer there, but he saw now, what
had before escaped his notice, that the snow beneath the window was
broken and trodden by a man's footprints. With a smothered exclamation
Dixon bent an instant above these tracks, and then began tracing them
carefully. He found where they led from the group of pines to the
window; he found where they had first approached the house across the
open fields from the hill beyond, direct and even, as of one with a
fixed purpose; he found also where they had turned from the window in
long, regular strides as of one in flight. These he followed to the
foot of the hill, and across to the other side, where they seemed to
lose themselves in the trackless forest. He stood here again for some
moments, an ashy ring forming itself about his lips. Then, with a deep
breath, he set his teeth together, thrust the pistol into his pocket,
and turned toward the town. It was scarcely awake as yet. Smoke curled
lazily upward from the chimneys, but hardly any one was stirring. Even
about the door of that great commercial emporium known far and near as
"Buckey's," the regular loafers had as yet no representative; and
here, as elsewhere, the snow, which had drifted across the steps, was
undisturbed.

A little beyond "Buckey's" stood a neat frame structure, across whose
entrance stretched a sign bearing the inscription:

"James Dixon, Justice of the Peace."

This building Dixon entered. A boy who was steaming himself at the
great stove in the centre of the room looked up with a duck of the
head as the proprietor of the office entered, paying no further
attention as he proceeded to divest himself of his outer garments and
seat himself at his desk.

Apparently business at this time of the year was not pressing, for,
beyond arranging some papers with legal headings, and glancing over a
newspaper or two, Dixon did no work. The most of the time he sat
industriously smoking, his eyes set upon the uncheerful winter
landscape without. Once, when the boy