"An' what made you venture on the trail on such a night?" asked old
Norton, as he poured out a joram of hot whiskey for each of the men. "A
moral cert, you wouldn't strike Foss River in such a storm."

"We thought it would have held off longer," said Dr. Abbot. "It was no
use getting cooped up in town for two or three days. You know what these
blizzards are. You may have to do with us yourself during the next
forty-eight hours."

"It's too sharp to last, Doc," put in Jacky, as she helped herself to
some soup. Her face was glowing after her exposure to the elements. She
looked very beautiful and not one whit worse for the drive.

"Sharp enough--sharp enough," murmured old Norton, as if for something
to say.

"Sharp enough to bring some one else to your hospitable abode, Joe,"
interrupted "Lord" Bill, quietly; "I hear sleigh bells. The wind's
howling, but their tone is familiar."

They were all listening now. "Poker" John was the first to speak.

"It's--" and he paused.

Before he could complete his sentence Jacky filled up the missing words.

"Lablache--for a dollar."

There was a moment's silence in that rough homely little kitchen. The