HEN Miller's train reached Darley and he alighted in the car-shed, he was met by a blinding snow-storm. He could see the dim lantern of the hotel porter as he came towards him through the slanting feathery sheet and the yet dimmer lights of the hotel. “Heer! Marse Miller!” shouted the darky; “look out fer dat plank er you 'll fall in er ditch. Marse Alan Bishop is at de hotel, an' he say tell you ter stop dar--dat you couldn't git home in dis sto'm no how.” “Oh, he's in town,” said Miller. “Well, I was thinking of spending the night at the hotel, anyway.” In the office of the hotel, almost the only occupant of the room besides the clerk, sat Abner Daniel, at the red-hot coal stove. “Why,” exclaimed Miller, in surprise, “I didn't know you were in town.” “The fact is, we're all heer,” smiled the old man, standing up and stretching himself. He looked as if he had been napping. “We fetched the women in to do some tradin', an' this storm blowed up. We could 'a' made it home all right,” he laughed out impulsively, “but the last one of 'em wanted a excuse to stay over. They are et up with curiosity to know how yore trip come out. They are all up in Betsy an' Alf's room. Go up?” “Yes, I reckon I'd better relieve their minds.” Abner offered to pilot him to the room in question, and when it was reached the old man opened the door without knocking. “Heer's the man you've been hankerin' to see all day,” he announced, jovially. “I fetched 'im straight up.” They all rose from their seats around the big grate-fire and shook hands with the lawyer. “He looks like he has news of some kind,” said Adele, who was studying his face attentively. “Now, sir, sit down and tell us are we to be rich or poor, bankrupt or robber.” “Don't put the most likely word last,” said Abner, dryly. “Well,” began Miller, as he sat down in the semicircle. “As it now stands, we've got a chance to gain our point. I have a signed agreement--and a good one--that your price will be paid if we can get the citizens through whose property the road passes to donate a right of way. That's the only thing that now stands between you and a cash sale.” “They 'll do it, I think,” declared Alan, elatedly. “I dunno about that,” said Abner. “It's owin' to whose land is to be donated. Thar's some skunks over in them mountains that wouldn't let the gates o' heaven swing over the'r property except to let themselves through.” No one laughed at this remark save Abner himself. Mrs. Bishop was staring straight into the fire. Her husband leaned forward and twirled his stiff fingers slowly in front of him. “Huh! So it depends on _that_,” he said. “Well, it _does_ look like mighty nigh anybody ud ruther see a railroad run out thar than not, but I'm no judge.” “Well, it is to be tested two weeks from now,” Miller said. And then he went into a detailed and amusing account of how he had brought Wilson to terms.