A race with an avalanche by Fanny Hyde Merrill. Over a little town in the heart of the rocky mountains floated a heavy cloud. A young girl stood by the window of one of the pretty homes and watched anxiously the sky above. As she looked, her brother stepped up behind her. Never mind, Kate, he said, we'll have a good Christmas if it does snow. Kate frowned. What is the use of any more snow? It's four feet deep on the ground now, and all the roads are blocked. We can't get any Christmas mail. The sugar in town is all gone. Only one cow to give milk for the children. Not an egg to be had. We can't even bake a cake. And just then white flakes came floating through the air. Kate's exclamation was a doleful. There it comes. It's too bad. Over near the large stoves sat the father. As he heard Kate's distressed voice, he came to the window. The doctor was a slender man with kind eyes and gray hair. There were many lines across his forehead, but most of them had been drawn by care and thought, few by age, and none at all by discontent. As he stood and stroked Kate's hair. It was easy to see that the young girl was the pride of his heart. Your mother, my dear, her father said slowly, was always glad when it snowed at Christmas time. She always said a real Christmas should be a white Christmas. Tears stood in Kate's eyes, and Harry turned away his head. He did not wish Kate to know how desolate home had been to him since their mother's death. Through the gathering snow, two heavy figures came toward the house. Harry opened the door and saw two strong men with resolute faces. Doctor wardle here, they asked. The doctor stepped forward in spite of the storm. The men lifted their caps as they saw his face. There's a man hurt up at the mines, said the taller of the two men. Will you come up, doctor, certainly, said the doctor promptly, I'll come at once. The man looked at the two young people. Doctor. He said, you know the snow is sliding badly. It's a deal of risk. The doctor nodded and put on his thick coat. Oh, Papa, cried Kate, not to day, not you. We can't let you go. In distress, she turned to the men. Can't you get some younger man for such a hard trip. The man looked troubled. I'm sorry, miss. We did try, but his face hardening. No other doctor will go, and the man is badly hurt. Poor Kate father and brother had hidden their own grief over the mother's death and striven to make her life bright. Now she could not believe she could be put aside for any other call. She clung to her father's sobbing Kate, he said, as he took her hands, My work is to save lives. But Papa, your life so useful. Save that, my dear, who can tell which life is most needed? Besides, your fears are foolish, dear, There's probably no real danger. I shall come back safely. Never fear. He stopped with his hand on her head, then satchel in hand, he went to the door. As he stepped across the threshold, he took Harry's hand, My boy, he said, you are like your mother. I can trust Kate to you, and the door closed. The three men plowed their way up the street into the mountain trail that led to the mines. Kate watched the figures grow small in the distance, till the snow hid them from sight. The mighty hills that shut in the town never looked to kate so high, so silent, so unmoved as during the long hours of that day in vain Harry planned diversions. She watched the window with an anxious and a sorrowful face. Still the storm raged, and as the twilight gathered, Harry could not keep anxiety from his face and voice. Down in the valley, the twilight fades early, and it was dark when a heavy rat brought Harry to the door. There stood twelve men and in their midst on a sled, an uncouth mass of snow covered blankets where's father. Gasped Harry, staring at the sled with its heavy burden, He said, we were to tell you the storm was so bad he'd stay up at the mine tonight. We're taking the fellow that was hurt down to the hospital. Noble fellows, cried Harry, with his face aglow, as the men set off again. Those twelve men had brought that hurt fellow down the mountain on a sled in this storm and darkness, over four feet of snow. They face death every step of the way for the snow is sliding all the time. Kate stared at the fire but said nothing. Suddenly a veil had been lifted. She saw not only her noble father risking his life for others that was no new vision, but the rough, the faithful miners, twelve of them risking their lives to carry to greater safety, one poor, hurt, perhaps dying man. And she All day long she had brooded over her own selfish sorrow and anxiety, letting Harry try to amuse her, but never thinking of his troubles. With a flush of shame, she started up Harry. She said, we'll practice a little to night, can't we, And Harry brought out his flute and the music, with a face of such relief and happiness that Kate's heart gave another throb of remorse. The morning of the next day dawned clear and cool. Gradually the sun rose over the mountains, each moment touching into new glory, the light and shadow, the color and glittering sheen of the vast snow covered hills. Kate sang over her morning work and thought tenderly of the new comfort she would bring into her father's life from that day forward. Nine o'clock. It was before the sunlight touched the town. In the valley, Harry began to watch the mountain trail for his father. All day long. The beauty of the hills glittered before the longing eyes of Kate and Harry, but no father came down the shining mountain path. At three o'clock, the sun went down and the tints of sunset glowed upon the snowy heights. Kate bravely struggled through the pretense of a meal. But self control is not learned in a day, and by evening Harry found her crying softly by herself. Kate, he said, don't worry. Tomorrow, I'll go up the mountain and see if father is still there. Harry started early next morning, and Kate bravely watched him out of sight. We'll be home for Christmas, he shouted back, for his spirits rose with the prospect of something to do. He climbed to the mines and found, to his dismay that his father had started down early the preceding morning. The superintendent, having watched him out of sight, well said Harry, I must go down and get a party from town to search for him. That is the best way, said the manager. He said nothing of the danger Harry himself must pass through. Danger was around them all. Harry was strong, active, and skillful in the use of the snow shoes or skies which he wore that day. The boy's face was saddened by his fears for his father, but a resolute look flashed into his eyes as he made ready for the perilous trip. Just as he shot forward, came the thunder of a blast of dynamite in the mine above him. A shout went up, a snow slide, and a massive snow, dislodged by the explosion, came crushing past a corner of the shed containing the men, was carried away. The men looked at each other. Their escape had been narrow. Where was the boy, who had just now shot forward in the very path of the avalanche. It needed no shout to tell Harry what the result of that report would be. He had started, and almost at that instant the snow was on his track. There was no chance for turn or thought of pause. His only chance for life was to reach the valley before the avalanche. Over the shortest, steepest descent, he flew, the wind cutting his face all thought merged in one fire of effort to fly faster, faster, and fast. He skimmed the glittering snow till he shot like an arrow from a bow into the plain below, and fell headlong, covered by the frosty spray at the edge of the spent avalanche. The breath seemed pressed out of his body, and for some minutes he did not move. Then a shout came through the air, and he lifted himself as a band of miners came flying down the mountain toward him. They came on snow shoes from the mines above, and were overjoyed to find the boy alive. He beat the snowslide, they ejaculated, and Harry a hero from that hour, was escorted home in triumph. At the door stood Kate, and back of her the Good Father, safe and sound. On his way down from the mine, the doctor had been hailed by a man who lived in a little cabin sheltered in the mountain side. The man's child had broken an arm, and by the time everything was done for his relief, the short day was so far gone that the doctor was obliged to stay all night that Christmas Eve, as Kate and Harry and their father stood watching the stars glow and sparkle in the Keen Mountain air. Kate put her hand on her father's arm as she said, there won't be much for Christmas tomorrow, but any other happiness that could come to me would seem very small after having you and Harry given back to me, My dear, said her father. Since the Christmas angels first sang peace on earth, good will toward men, the best gift that can come to any of us is an unselfish heart and of a race with an avalanche. By Fanny Hyde Merrill