"Hope he isn't of the biting kind," said Shep, drawing back.
"Down, Rover, down!" came in a man's voice, and a moment later Aaron Masterson appeared. He was a man of sixty, bent from age and hard work.
"Good evening, Mr. Masterson," said Snap. "I don't know if you remember me or not. I am Charley Dodge. My father sold you the lumber for your new barn."
"Oh, yes, I remember you," said the old farmer, with a smile. "You came to the raising, didn't you? Who is this with you?"
"My friend, Shep Reed. He is Dr. Reed's son."
"Oh, yes, I know the doctor, too. He attended my wife when she had pneumonia—brought her around, too. Well, lads, what brings you in such a snow?"
In a few words Snap and Shep explained the situation. When they mentioned the tramp Aaron Masterson shook his grizzled head and his fist vigorously.
"The pesky critters! I wish you had shot him! They're a terribul nuisance, tramps is. One day my wife give two on 'em a dinner an' they up afterwards an' stole my new sickle an' whetstone. Tramps ought all to be hung. Come in the house."
"Can you keep us until to-morrow morning?"
"I think so—I'll have to ask my wife first though."