“You’ll do it right off?”
“No; I guess I’ll ask Sam’s advice.”
Step’s face fell. “Oh, if you haven’t any mind of your own——”
“I’ve mind enough to know Sam’s got more hard sense,” said Poke firmly. And to Sam he went, forthwith, laying before him Step’s plan and admitting his own liking for it.
Sam listened patiently, but shook his head when the tale was told.
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a case of the Safety First rule,” he said. “Your selection, Poke, might not please the hotel people. And, of course, we’re all at sea about the value. No; better wait till you hear from them.”
“But the suspense—it’s awful!”
“It won’t kill you. Besides, very likely—that is, there’s a chance—nothing’ll happen. Varley seems to think it may work out that way, and the Rainbow Mountain House will just charge the item to profit and loss, or breakage, or whatever they choose to call it.”
“That’d be too good luck to come true,” objected Poke, but he went away more or less comforted by the suggestion, nevertheless. Certainly, the hotel management was in no haste to send its bill. Step maliciously hinted that the delay meant merely a heavier charge in the end, but Poke’s spirits began to revive as day followed day, and there was no word from Rainbow Mountain.
His cheerfulness increased in spite of adverse weather conditions. With the lengthening days and the sun higher in the heavens, the snow should have been shrinking seasonably, but the sunny days were few, and between them came other days, in which the white flakes fell heavily. In the town great banks showed on the north side of buildings, while the mounds along the sidewalks grew grimy and icy with alternate melting and replenishing. From the country roundabout came stories of extraordinary depth of snow in the woods and in sheltered hollows. Old residents were shaking their heads and recalling tales of spring floods. A heavy rain and a sharp rise in temperature would mean streams over their banks and perhaps a deal of damage by floods swelled by the melting snow.