"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Just what you see, missus; no more and no less," replied Nick, speaking boldly, for he deemed that to be the surest way to her favor.
"I see very little; nothing whatever that betokens the strength you are said to possess."
"You can't always tell what's inside of a crib before you crack it," was the reply; and the woman smiled.
"Where do you come from?" she asked.
"I ain't giving out my past history, lady, if it's all the same to you," said Nick coolly; and she frowned. Evidently she did not like this answer.
"What errand brought you to this part of the country, and finally induced you to make your camp in the woods out there?" she asked, smiling again.
"I suppose you want the plain truth, lady?"
"Yes," she replied, in an easy tone; "that is, if you put any value on your life."
"Well, the truth is this: I have heard, here and there, a good deal about a certain person who is known as Hobo Harry, the Beggar King. I have heard that he has gathered around him a lot of my kind, and I reckoned that maybe he'd give me a show to be one of them. That's what I came here for, and that's why I camped out there in the woods."