300 ™^ ^EB MOUNTAIN OF ALASKA. 
two silhouettes were decidedly out of the common. The 
voice^ whose delicate tones still lingered pleasantly about 
Mr. Robert Estabrook's fastidious ears, was an individual 
voice, as distinguishable from any other he remembered 
as was the owner's bright face, the little fur collar beneath 
it, the daintily gloved hands, and the pretty brown travel- 
ling-suit. 
'^Dignified old fellow!" mused Bob, irrelevantly, as 
the couple moved toward the train-gates. Probably her 
father. Perhaps — hallo, by George ! they're going on 
my car ! " 
With which breath of summer in his winter of discon- 
tent, the young man proceeded to finish his cigar, consult 
his watch, and, as the last warning bell rang, step upon 
the platform of the already moving Pullman. It must be 
admitted that as he entered he gave an expectant glance 
down the aisle of the car ; but the sombre curtains hang- 
ing from ceiling to floor told no tales. Too sleepy to 
speculate, and too learned in the marvellous acoustic 
properties of a sleeping-car to engage the porter in con- 
versation on the subject, he found his berth, arranged 
himself for the night with the nonchalance of an old 
traveller, and, laying his head upon his vibrating atom of 
a pillow, was soon plunged into a dream at least fifty 
miles long. 
It was snowing, and snowing hard. Moreover, it had 
been snowing all night and all the afternoon before. The 
