"
The road down the mountain was also better than the one by which they
had ascended, and as the horses with their calked shoes were swift of
foot they made rapid progress. As they descended, the wind lowered
fast and there was much less snow. Red Blaze said it was probably not
snowing in the valley at all.
"See that shinin' in the sun," he said. "That's the tin coverin' on the
steeple of the new church in Hubbard. The sun strikes squar'ly on it,
an' now I know I'm right 'bout it not snowin' down thar. Wait 'til we
turn 'roun' this big rock. Yes, thar's Hubbard, layin' out in the
valley without a drop of snow on her. It looks good, don't it, friends,
with the smoke comin' out of the chimneys. That little red house over
thar is the railroad an' telegraph station, an' we'll go straight for it,
'cause we ain't got no time to waste."
They emerged into the valley and rode rapidly for the station. Farmers
on the outskirts and villagers looked wonderingly at them, but they
did not pause to answer questions. They galloped their tired mounts
straight for the little red building, which was the station. Dick
sprang first from his horse, and leaving it to stand at the door,
ran inside. A telegraph instrument was clicking mournfully in the
corner. A hot stove was in another corner, and sitting near it was a
lad of about Dick's age, clad in mountain jeans, and lounging in an
old cane-bottomed chair. But Dick's quick glance saw that the boy was
bright of face and keen of eye.
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