Webb remarked at dinner that the atmosphere over the Beacon Hills in the
northeast was growing singularly obscure and dense in its appearance, and
that he believed a heavy storm was coming.

"I am sorry Burt has gone to the mountains to-day," said Mrs. Clifford,
anxiously.

"Oh, don't worry about Burt," was Webb's response; "there is no more
danger of his being snowed in than of a fox's."

Before the meal was over, the wind, snow-laden, was moaning about the
house. With every hour the gale increased in intensity. Early in the
afternoon the men with the two teams drove to the barn. Amy could just
see their white, obscure figures through the blinding snow, Even old Mr.
Clifford went out to question them. "Yes, Mr. Burt come up in de mawnin'
an' stirred us all up right smart, slashed down a tree hisself to show a
new gawky hand dat's cuttin' by de cord how to 'arn his salt; den he put
out wid his rafle in a bee-line toward de riber. Dat's de last we seed ob
him;" and Abram went stolidly on to unhitch and care for his horses.

Mr. Clifford and his two elder sons returned to the house with traces of
anxiety on their faces, while Mrs. Clifford was so worried that,
supported by Amy, she made an unusual effort, and met them at the door.

"Don't be disturbed, mother," said Webb, confidently. "Burt and I have
often been caught in snowstorms, but never had any difficulty in finding
our way. Burt will soon appear, or, if he doesn't, it will be because he
has stopped to recount to Dr. Marvin the results of his eagle hunt."

Indeed, they all tried to reassure her, but, with woman's quick instinct