“The trouble with Alf,” broke in Abner, “is that with all his Bible readin' he never seems to git any practical benefit out'n it. Now, when I'm in doubt about whether a thing's right or wrong, I generally find some Scriptural sanction fer the side I want to win. Some'rs in the Bible thar was a big, rich king that sent a pore feller off to git 'im kilt in battle so he could add his woman to his collection. Now, no harm ever come to the king that I know of, an', fer my part, I don't think what you did to yank Wilson into line was nigh as bad, beca'se you was work-in' fer friends. Then Wilson was loaded fer bear his-se'f. War's over, I reckon, but when Wilson's sort comes down heer expectin' to ride rough-shod over us agin, I feel like givin' a war-whoop an' rammin' home a Minié ball.”
“I sha 'n't worry about the morality of the thing,” said Miller. “Wilson was dead set on crushing you to powder. I saw that. Besides, if he takes the property and builds the road, he 'll make a lot of money out of it.”
After this the conversation languished, and, thinking that the old people might wish to retire, Miller bade them good-night and went to his own room.
A snow of sufficient thickness for sleighing in that locality was a rare occurrence, and the next morning an odd scene presented itself in front of the hotel. The young men of the near-by stores had hastily improvised sleds by taking the wheels from buggies and fastening the axles to rough wooden runners, and were making engagements to take the young ladies of the town sleighing.
“Have you ever ridden in a sleigh?” Miller asked Adele, as they stood at a window in the parlor witnessing these preparations.
“Never in my life,” she said.
“Well, you shall,” he said. “I 'll set a carpenter at work on my buggy, and be after you in an hour. Get your wraps. My pair of horses will make one of those sleds fairly spin.”
About eleven o' clock that morning Alan saw them returning from their ride, and, much to his surprise, he noted that Dolly Barclay was with them. As they drew up at the entrance of the hotel, Alan doffed his hat and stepped forward to assist the ladies out of the sled.
“Miss Dolly won't stop,” said Miller. “Get in and drive her around. She's hardly had a taste of it; we only picked her up as we passed her house.”
Alan's heart bounded and then it sank. Miller was smiling at him knowingly. “Go ahead,” he said, pushing him gently towards the sled. “It's all right.”