Those possibilities he would never learn from the dead lips of his father.

He sought them from his mother, but only the painted mouth and the painted smile answered him.
He turned again to the picture of the house with the snow-topped mountains in the distance.

There surely, was the solution; somewhere in the infinite reaches of the West.
Finally he cut the picture from its frame and rolled it up.

He felt that in so doing he would carry with him an identification tag--a clue to himself.

With that clue in his travelling bag, he started for the city, bought his ticket, and boarded a train for the West..