"I don't like this! I don't for a cent, by hickory!"
"What's the matter now?" she asked, merrily. "Have you seen some of those strange men about again, hunting on your preserves?"
"No, Miss Alice. Not this time," he replied, slowly.
"What is it then?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't like the looks of the weather."
"Do you think we're going to have another blizzard?" and there was a note of alarm in her voice.
"I'm thinking that's what's coming," he made answer. "I never knew the weather to act just this way before except once, and then we had the worst storm I ever remember. That was when I was a boy, and more snow fell in that one storm than in any three winters put together."
"Gracious! I hope that won't happen now!" cried the girl.
"So do I," went on the hunter. "And I'm going to take all precautions. I'll get the men, and we'll pile the fodder in the barn so if we can't get out to feed the stock they won't starve for a week, anyhow."
"Does it ever happen that you can't get out to the barns?" Alice wanted to know.