[CHAPTER XX—THE ESCAPE]
The little county seat awoke in the morning to a strange sight. The storm had not abated. The wind was still blowing at blizzard rate off the northwest hills, and fine, icy snow was swirling so thickly through the cold air that vision was obstructed. Buildings were distinguishable only as shadows showing faintly through a heavy white veil. The thermometer had gone many degrees below the zero mark. It was steadily growing colder. The older inhabitants said it would surely break the record the coming night.
An immense fire had been built in the sitting-room. Thither Mary and Louise repaired. Here they were joined by Dale, Langford, and Gordon.
“You should be out at the ranch looking after your poor cattle, Mr. Langford,” said Mary, smilingly. She could be light-hearted now,—since a little secret had been whispered to her last night at a tea party where no tea had been drunk. Langford had gravitated toward her as naturally as steel to a magnet. He shrugged his big shoulders and laughed a little.
“The Scribe will do everything that can be done. Honest, now, did you think this trial could be pulled off without me?”
“But there can be no trial to-day.”
“Why not?”
“Did I dream the court-house burned last night?”
“If you did, we are all dreamers alike.”
“Then how can you hold court?”