on the
snow beneath the window. He felt a burning curiosity to rise and look
out, but he restrained it and did not move. The guide was staring at the
candidate in open-mouthed amazement, but he, too, did not speak. A few
big white flakes drove in at the open window, but they did not reach the
men before the fire that blazed so brightly. Harley again thought he
heard the soft shuffle of footsteps on the snow outside, but then the
burning wood crackled merrily, and Jimmy Grayson was about to speak.

Sylvia stood erect against the wall, her glowing eyes full of
admiration. Her quick mind had grasped the whole plan.

"Gentlemen of Crow's Wing," said the candidate, in his full,
penetrating voice, which the empty old building gave back in many an
echo, "it is, indeed, a pleasure to me to meet you here. The
circumstances, the situation, are such as to inspire any one who has
been so honored. I should like to have seen your little town, the home
of brave and honest men, nestling as it does among these mighty
mountains, and far from the rest of the world, but strong and
self-reliant. I appreciate, too, your kindness and your thought for me.
Seeing the advance of the storm, and knowing its dangers, you have come
to meet me in this place, once so full of life. I find something
singularly appealing and pathetic in this. Once again, if only for a
brief space, Queen City shall ring with human voices and the human
tread."

The candidate paused a moment, as if the end of a rounded period had
come and he were gathering strength for another. Then suddenly arose a
mighty chorus of applause. It was Harley, "King" Plummer, Heathcote, and
Jim, and their act was spontaneous, the inspiration of the moment, drawn
from Jimmy Grayson's own inspiration. The guide beat upon the floor with
both hands and both feet, and the other three were not less active.
Moreover, the guide opened his mouth and let forth a yell, rapid,
cumulative, and so full of volume that it sounded like the whoop of at
least a half-dozen men. The room resounded with the applause, and it
thundered down the halls of the great empty building. When it died,
Harley, listening again intently, heard once more the crunch of feet on
the snow outside, but now it was a rapid movement as if of surprise. But
the sound came to him only a moment, because the candidate was speaking
once more, and he was worth hearing. He only looked away to see Sylvia,
who still stood against the wall with