Ross arose with alacrity and went to the door. The first snow had fallen on the bad lands, but in an hour it had been whisked away by a warm northwest wind, leaving the ground soft and a little stream of water in Dry Creek across which rode a man who proved to be a prospector from the mountains. "Must have had a bit of snow here," he called as he turned his horse into the corral. "Up t' Miners' Camp it's two inches deep and driftin'." As this prospector was eating his dinner, he most unexpectedly gave Ross his first news of Weimer. The boy, finding Hank both intelligent and sympathetic, had talked freely concerning his mission in the mountains and his desire to return East at an early date. To the latter subject, in all its details of study and college-attendance, Hank listened and questioned in open interest. But, when Ross touched the subject of Weimer and the McKenzies, the other was non-committal and guarded, as became a landlord who might be called upon any day to serve flapjacks and coffee to all of the parties under discussion. "I hope," he had observed cautiously on two or three occasions, "that you'll get on all right with Uncle Jake Weimer." And, although his tone implied a doubt, Ross could not prevail on him to explain it. But the prospector, who had ridden through from the mountains, and knew nothing of Ross or of his origin, spoke more freely. He had passed along Meadow Creek but a few days before. "Dutch Weimer," he told Hank as he bolted boiled cabbage and flapjacks, "was settin' at the door of his shack, a-smokin' as though his claims was all patented and secure. He says that Eastern pal of hisn is a-sendin' some one t' help 'im out." Hank coughed behind his hand, and motioned toward Ross, busy with his patient; but at first the prospector was too intent on his food to notice. "And there," he observed with a chuckle, "are them two McKenzie boys a-settin' on their claims next door and waitin'." He gave another chuckle. "Curious how that snow-blindness should have touched Dutch Weimer." Then he saw Hank's restraining gesture, and paused. Glancing down, he met Lon Weston's veiled brown eyes and Ross's wide gray ones; but the prospector had suddenly become as non-committal as Hank himself, nor did Ross's persistent questioning wring from him any further details. He had but passed that way, he assured Ross, had stopped but a moment in front of Weimer's cabin and that was all. But what he had said was enough to leave Ross troubled, and impatient to start for Meadow Creek and his delayed work. Finally the plaster of Paris came. The stage from Cody brought it one noon, and Ross's spirits arose at the prospect of release from his unwelcome charge.