A pretty road it was, too, one which trailed along beside the stream, now clear with that sharp brilliancy which is characteristic of the mountain creek, a road fringed with whispering aspens, bright green in their new foliage, with small spruce and pine.

Here and there a few flowers showed; by the side of the road the wild roses peeped up from the denser growths of foliage, and a vagrant butterfly or so made the round of blossom after blossom.

It was spring-summer down here, sharp contrast indeed to the winter which lurked above and which would not fade until June had far progressed.

But with it all, its beauty, its serenity, its peace and soft moistness, Houston noticed it but slightly.

His thoughts were on other things: on Thayer and his duplicity, on the possibilities of the future, and the methods of combating a business enemy he felt sure was lurking in the background.
It meant more to Houston than the mere monetary value of a loss,--should a loss come.