The wreathed figure stepped from the
pedestal,--a laughing June spot against
the wintry grimness of the Man Killer
trail.

Obligingly the inventor's daughter
stepped up, closing her eyes half-humorously,
doubling the drooping hands
at her panting sides.

But, as suddenly, the eyelids were flung
up, like shutters from the blue of day.
The uncurling fists were outflung passionately.

1 " I can't! I cant!" cried Pemrose
Lorry, choking upon her own wishbone.
"I--I'm not in the humor for it--for
foolery! I must go on--right on--and
search! This--this is the shortest trail
down the mountain, if it's the roughest
-I know that!" She looked desperately
at old Andrew. "If any mean
thief--anybody--stole that record,
there could be only one--one motive
for it, my father-r says--curiosity; to be
the fir-rst to see that very first record man
[[256]]

p255 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p256w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p257

v?