"All right, stranger. If you'll wait long enough for me to make some hot tea, and warm the victuals, you shall have a chance to judge of my cookin'."
Bill Crane was quite elated. He decided that the widow would not ask him for payment, thus saving him from embarrassing excuses. In due time he was called in and seated in the chair not long since occupied by John Miles.
"You're the second man that's dined with me to-day," said the widow.
"And who was the first lucky man?" inquired Crane, suspecting at once that it might have been Miles.
"I don't know his name, but he was a good-looking young man, who said he had had a bag of gold-dust stolen from him."
"That's Miles," thought Crane; and he at once decided not to betray any knowledge of him.
"He was in bad luck," said Bill. "Did he know who stole it?"
"He didn't tell me. I don't think he knew."
"That's well," thought Crane.
"Did he say where he was going?"