But even as the hurray ascended the side of the cliff, so did the rope. Snakily, jerkily, the knotted end traveled upward until it disappeared in the cloud of snow that hid the mountain tops. From this cloud came a faint and far-away voice: "Good luck t' ye! Tell Doc ye're in the same boat as he is. He'll savvy!" CHAPTER XVI THE INGRATITUDE OF WESTON THE presence of Leslie without snow-shoes, the disappearance of the rope, and Weston's voice caused Ross to "savvy" immediately in impotent anger and bitter disappointment. But not until the two boys had reached the cabin and Leslie was warming himself beside the hot stove, did he fully comprehend the trick that had been played on him. "Weston!" he exclaimed stupidly in answer to Ross's explanation. "Why, this isn't the man you told about at Sagehen Roost--it's the Miller that you went away with. I saw that Weston fellow, you know. They're not the same!" "It's evident that when you've seen Weston you've seen any number of men that he cares to imitate. This Miller is Weston, the McKenzies' cousin and the man you----" Here Ross checked himself, as Leslie had not yet connected the dark-haired Weston with the light-haired Oklahoma man of the same name. Finally, after supper, Leslie recovered from his bewilderment sufficiently to tell connectedly the story of the days that had intervened between Ross's departure from Meadow Creek and his own. "Begin at the beginning," urged Ross finally, putting a pine chunk in the stove and snuffing the candle. He had seated the newcomer in the armchair beside the fire, while he sat on an overturned box in front of the stove door and within reach of a heap of wood. On the table at his elbow lay the gun which Steele had insisted on adding to his equipment the day he arrived in Meadow Creek and which he had not since touched. Leslie had brought it strapped across his shoulders and with it all the ammunition which Steele had provided. This was another proof of Weston's strangely curious good will that continued to puzzle Ross. How the unsuspecting Leslie was prevailed on to bring the limited arsenal was a part of the story which Ross was demanding. While the storm raged outside and the dim candle-light flickered and cast long uncanny shadows within, and the pine chunk flamed and cracked cheerily filling the room with a warmth grateful to the chilled narrator, Leslie complied with the request to "begin at the beginning." "I'd no sooner seen your back, Ross, as you followed Miller out of the door, than I had an awfully uncomfortable feeling of responsibility. By the time the storm had swallowed you two up, the whole outfit there at Weimer's was sitting hard on my shoulders. We watched you out of sight, Uncle Jake and I, and then we went back into the cabin and, Ross, if that cabin seems to Uncle Jake now as--well--as--when you left----" Leslie paused and stared at the candle. Ross drew his seat nearer the stove and cleared his throat.