stood looking off in rapture, but the man saw only the changing lights
in her face. He turned a little, taking in the charm of pose, the lift of
chin, parted lips, hand shading softly shining eyes. After a moment he
answered: "Wish we had. Wish every other man you knew was left out, on the
other side of the door."

Her hand fell, she gave him her sweeping look and moved to join the
waiting group.

Banks came to meet them. "We've stayed to the limit; my, yes, it's the
last call," he explained in his tense key. "There's a couple of places we
don't want to see ourselves caught in when the thaw strikes. And they're
getting a heavy rain down at the Springs now; likely up at the tunnel it's
snow or hail." He paused, turning to send a final glance into the mist,
then said: "Less than ten minutes ago I had a sight of that train, but you
see now she's wiped off the map. It'll be a close race, my, yes. Give me
that stick, ma'am; you can make better time on the down-grade holding on
to me."

With this, he offered his able hand to Mrs. Weatherbee and, followed by
the rest of the party, helped her swiftly down the slope. But clearly his
mind was on the stalled train. "Likely, hugging the mountainside, they
don't see how the snow crowds overhead," he said. "And I'd ought to have
taken time to run over and give 'em a tip. I'm going to, I'm going to,
soon's I get you down to that old railroad track where you can make it
alone."

"Do you mean the Limited is in danger?" she asked, springing and tripping
to his stride.

And Banks nodded grimly. "Yes, ma'am. It's a hard proposition, even to a
man like Tisdale, who is used to breaking his own trail. He knows he's got
to fight shy of the slides along that burned over switchback, but if he
saw the box that train is in, he would just hike around to this side of
the canyon, where the pitches are shorter, and the green trees stand some
show to hold the snow, and work down to the old track to the Springs."

"Is Mr. Tisdale"'--her voice broke a little--"Mr. Hollis Tisdale on that
train?"

"Likely, yes. He was snowbound on her in the Rockies, last I heard, and
'feeling fit as a moose.' Being penned up so long, he'd likely rather take
a hike down to the hotel than not. It would be good for his health." And
the little man piped his high, mirthless laugh.

She stumbled, and he felt the hand in his tremble, but the abrupt incline
of the glacier had opened before them, and he believed she drea