"It's a big estate?" said Hallam, and Alice Deringham, who knew his
capabilities, wondered when her father would effectually silence this
presumptuous stranger. In the meanwhile he, however, showed no
intention of doing so.

"No," he said languidly. "It is a small one, and heavily in debt. I
presume you know rancher Alton by the interest you show in him?"

"Yes," said Hallam, "and I don't like him."

Deringham scarcely glanced at his daughter, but she realized that her
presence was not especially desired, and when she rose and went back
into the building her father glanced steadily at Hallam.

"I wonder why you told me that," he said.

Hallam laughed. "Well, I generally talk straight, and I feel like
that," he said. "Now, they don't keep anything that doesn't burn a
hole in you here, and I've a bottle of English whisky. Don't see any
reason why you shouldn't take a drink with me?"

"No," said Deringham indifferently. "I am, however, a somewhat
abstemious man."

Hallam went into the building and returned with a cigar-case and a
bottle. The contents of both were good, and Deringham sat languidly
glancing over the curling smoke towards the glimmering snow. It
towered white and cold against a pale green, shining high above
climbing pines and dusky valley, while the fleecy mist crept higher and
higher athwart the serried waves of trees that fell to the river