The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1930-08-07
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

L
DATRICIA was smiling as she
i went back to the car. Her
pulses were thrilling from the re-
cent excitement, from the glimpse
of great passion.
How far is it, DAMP" she asked,
through a rift left for her eyes and
mouth in the wrappings Of fur
rugs.
about twenty miles. We ought to
be there at $780," he answered con-
tentedly, as they swept away from
Pembertons and followed a fairly
good dirt road up through the trees.
The snow was falling in good earnest
now and the darkness with it. But
Dams powerful headlights cut
through the confusing curtain of
gray and Patricia saw they we're
making more than twenty miles an
hour even on the grade.
'You know the cabin, do you?"
"Oh, yesI And it's really a mile
this side of Mountainllead, so that
we can begin to look Tor it as soon
as we're over the hill"
This is a blizzardl" Dan present.
ly observed.
But don't you love it?" the ex-
ultant voice at his side answered,
and a moment later the girl added,
Here, Dan-this is the turn!"
In thirty-two minutes from Penn
bertonI" he boosted. He turned the
car under the great trees, where the
road already was marked by fresh
wheel tracks. The cabin came into
view in the white light of the lamps.
1t was dark. deserted, tenantless.
For heavens sake" Patricia
began. They're not here!"
This isn't the placer" Dan sug-
gested.
isn't the placer" she echoed
scornfully. why, I know every inch
of It'll And look, Dan, there are the
boxes on the porchl"
1t was now quite dark. Leaving
the car light burning. they floun-
dered through the snow to the
porch Here, sure enough, we're
boxes and bundles, all plainly
marked for Mrs. Cecil Throckmor-
ton. But the windows of the cabin
gave back only the furred and peer
ing two with their f1ashlight.
THE wind sighed about the cor
4 ner of the cabin; branches
creaked far above their heads;
silently, swiftly, the snow con-
tinued to fall. Patricia began to
feel cold. tired and hungry.
What sort of station is Noun
tainhead. Patricia?"
ooh. nothing at ALL There's no
station. Trains stop on signal, that's
all"
Ninety miles from Deerbridge, in
this blizzard" Dan unused. ST don't
believe it could be doneI I don't
think it would be safe"
"Still, well have to try it, Dan,'
Patricia urged anxiously. I'VE
can't stay here"
"And suppose we run out of gas
or spring breaks in these drifts"
he objected. Then you undoubted-
ly would die"
so would you," Patricia said, with
spirit.
Here" he continued, eying the
inhospitable cabin, mo harm could
come to you. I suppose there are
doors with keys in them. You
needn't worry"
He was talking half contemptu-
ously, half absently, as he might
have talked to an unreasonable
child, and meanwhile measuring
the resistance of the windows and
the door. In the end he wrenched
a plank from the window, broke a
pane with one blow of a leather
clad fist and reached inside for q
catch. A moment later he sprang
into the dark room and opened the
door to let her in.
Patricia walked hesitatingly into
the pitch blackneSs and blank cold
Of the interior. She was begin
ming to have 6 sort Of frightened
admiration for him.
There's a lamp, Dan," she
guided him. And there is a
Ratchet in the cellar, know. We
can open the boxes and then use
them for the fire"
Now you're a sport" he an
swered. and In the light of the
match he held she saw his boyish
grin.
A smoky lamp and a smoky FIRE
revealed to them the large room
that. with tiny kitchen adjoining,
composed the cabin.