“Do I get that, too?” he asked.
“Yes, you might as well take that along, I guess.” Pete went back and got it. “Where you going now?” asked the man.
“Home,” said Pete.
“But how about dinner?”
“Well, maybe we’ll beg something to eat on the way. I guess there ain’t any place around here where they’d take a Winchester carbine as security for a Thanksgiving dinner, is there?” asked Pete, with a smile. The stranger answered the smile.
“Hardly. But I tell you what you do. Strike straight up through the woods here over the hill till you come to a lane. Keep along that for a quarter of a mile until you come to a big brown house standing back from the lane. You go there and tell ’em you’re hungry, and you’ll get plenty to eat. Ask for Mr. Guild. Don’t forget, now; first house you come to. There isn’t another for a mile further, so you’d better follow my advice.”
“Thanks!” said Pete. Allan echoed him.
“All right,” said the man, smiling kindly. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Good morning,” they answered. They started off through the woods in the direction he had indicated, but after a few yards Allan turned and looked back. The man, with the setter at heel, was moving along a path at right angles to them. He glanced up and waved his hand.