“Tige! you Tige! Be quiet, sir. Who’s there?”
“I am,” answered Myles.
“Well, who’s I?”
“A stranger in search of something to eat and a place to sleep in.”
“Step up here and let’s take a look at you. Tige, be quiet!”
The dog obeyed his master so far as keeping quiet was concerned, but he followed the new-comer and sniffed at his heels in a manner both suggestive and extremely unpleasant.
The figure that confronted Myles in the door-way was that of a tall, broad-shouldered, rough-looking man, clad in a flannel shirt and a pair of coarse trousers tucked into cowhide boots.
“Well, you be a stranger, sure enough,” said he, holding a candle so that its light shone in the other’s face; “leastways I never see you in these parts before. An’ you’ve struck a mighty poor place. This ain’t no hotel, and I reckon you’d better travel a bit further on.”
“Where to?” asked Myles.