I pushed ahead to the leader's side. “See here, Mr. Peck--” I began, but he cut me off. “You listen to ME, young man! I'm givin' you some news for your paper, and I'm gittin' at it my own way, but I'll git AT it, don't you worry! I'm goin' to let some folks around here know what kind of a feller Dave Beasley really is; yes, and I'm goin' to show George Dowden he can't laugh at ME!” “You're going to show Mr. Dowden?” I said. “You mean you're going to take him on this expedition, too?” “TAKE him!” Mr. Peck emitted an acrid bark of laughter. “I guess HE'S at Beasley's, all right.” “No, he isn't; he's at home--at Mrs. Apperthwaite's--playing cards.” “What!” “I happen to know that he'll be there all evening.” Mr. Peck smote his palms together. “Grist!” he called, over his shoulder, and his colleague struggled forward. “Listen to this: even Dowden ain't at Beasley's. Ain't the Lord workin' fer us to-night!” “Why don't you take Dowden with you,” I urged, “if there's anything you want to show him?” “By George, I WILL!” shouted Peck. “I've got him where the hair's short NOW!” “That's right,” said Grist. “Gentlemen”--Peck turned to the others--“when we git to Mrs. Apperthwaite's, jest stop outside along the fence a minute. I recken we'll pick up a recruit.” Shivering, we took up our way again in single file, stumbling through drifts that had deepened incredibly within the hour. The wind was straight against us, and so stingingly sharp and so laden with the driving snow that when we reached Mrs. Apperthwaite's gate (which we approached from the north, not passing Beasley's) my eyes were so full of smarting tears I could see only blurred planes of light dancing vaguely in the darkness, instead of brightly lit windows. “Now,” said Peck, panting and turning his back to the wind; “the rest of you gentlemen wait out here. You two newspaper men, you come with me.” He opened the gate and went in, the “Journal” reporter and I following--all three of us wiping our half-blinded eyes. When we reached the shelter of the front porch, I took the key from my pocket and opened the door. “I live here,” I explained to Mr. Peck. “All right,” he said. “Jest step in and tell George Dowden that Sim Peck's out here and wants to see him at the door a minute. Be quick.” I went into the library, and there sat Dowden contemplatively playing bridge with two of the elderly ladies and Miss Apperthwaite. The last-mentioned person quite took my breath away.