“Dix,” Carol said, “brother’s been acting awfully queer of late, don’t you think so? He seems to be expecting somebody, and yet who in the world could it be? There’s nobody coming to visit us, is there?”
The older sister smiled. Ken had thought best to take her into his confidence, since he had offered the loft to his friend. She had assured him that he had done the right thing, but she did hope that Ken’s friend would not come until Sylvia had returned to Genoa. The little housekeeper didn’t know how they would all find places to sleep, but she remembered that Grandmother Piggins had often said, “Don’t step over a stile till you come to it.”
The corn had been popped till it filled a big yellow bowl, but Ken had not returned. Dixie carried the lamp to the window nearest the cañon trail. She was sure that she saw the lantern far off among the pine trees, but, as she watched, it disappeared. Then a sudden blast of wind roaring past the cabin told her that the storm was again increasing in fury. Why didn’t Ken come in, she wondered. Perhaps an uprooted tree had pinned him under. Perhaps she ought to go and find him.
When she arrived at this decision, she placed the lamp on the table by the window and went quietly to the loft to get her heavy coat and hood.
When Dixie ran out of the log cabin into the storm which was increasing in fury, she was at first so blinded by the stinging snow that she could see nothing. Then, when she had pulled her hood down in a way that sheltered her eyes, and had gathered the folds of her cloak tightly about her, she stood on the narrow path which Ken had shoveled a few hours before, and gazed through the dense blackness up toward the cañon road.
Again she saw a glimmer of light, as though it might be a lantern. Was Ken swinging it, hoping to attract her attention?
Believing that she had guessed aright, the small girl began battling the elements, and slowly she ascended the trail that led to the road. Now and then she stumbled over covered rocks, and at last reached the deep, unbroken snow, for Ken had not tried to shovel a path up the steep trail to the highway, and his own foot-prints had been hidden quickly by the storm.
Luckily the dim light of the lantern appeared again, and the girl headed directly for it. During a lull, she was sure she heard her brother call. After all, she feared that her surmise, that a falling tree had pinned him down, was correct, otherwise he surely would have returned to the cabin. It was at least half an hour since he had started out in search of he knew not what.
She stood still once more and listened. Again she heard the sound, and this time she knew it was her brother hallooing.
“Ken! Ken!” she shouted. “I’m coming! I’m ’most there!”