feet back from the valley turnpike, which was never without its travelers, and along which armies marched and counter-marched, the surroundings were those of a remote wilderness. I bent down from my saddle, and rapped sharply on the wood. There was no response from within, not even when I struck more heavily with the butt of a revolver. There was a faint trail leading about the corner, and, grown curious and impatient, I dismounted, and leading my horse, pressed a difficult passage through the bushes. To my surprise the rear door stood slightly ajar, and my eyes perceived the movement of an ill-defined shadow within.
"Hello, there!" I called out, yet instinctively drawing a step backward. "Is there any room here for a tired man?"
The tall, angular figure of a mountaineer immediately appeared in the doorway, and a gray, wrinkled face, scraggly bearded, looked forth, the eyes glinting, and filled with suspicion.
"Wus it you-all poundin' at the door?"
"I knocked—yes."
"Knocked! Ye made noise 'nough ter raise the dead."
"It seems I didn't raise you."
"I want lookin' fer no visitors. Wal, who be ye? an' whut do ye want yere?"
