“I didn’t ’low you’d figure to trust me,” he agreed. “It’s all right. I didn’t ’low you would.”
It was my impulse to give him the dollar he needed, but I did not do it. An overpowering compulsion bade me keep my hands off in this matter. I did not know what I expected but I felt the imminence of the fates. When I went out into the snow it seemed to me the groan of the gale was like the slow grind of millstones, one upon the other.
I thought long upon the matter of Hazen Kinch before sleep came that night.
III
Toward morning the snow must have stopped; and the wind increased and carved the drifts till sunrise, then abruptly died. I met Hazen at the post office at ten and he said: “I’m starting home.”
I asked: “Can you get through?”
He laughed.
“I will get through,” he told me.
“You’re in haste.”
“I want to see that boy of mine,” said Hazen Kinch. “A fine boy, man! A fine boy!”