"I've hunted for miles in the mountains, and I've been to a store or two, and to meeting, and to the 'lections. Yes, and I've been to school three months a year ever since I was so high," Ralph indicated the height with his hand. "But grandpa would never let me go off any very great distance from home."
"So you finally took matters into your own hands and gave him leg bail. Well, that ain't bad. But you mustn't go about breaking into people's houses and cars as you did last night. It isn't safe."
"I was lost, and it began to rain. I didn't mean no harm. I can pay my way."
He drew forth some money, under a dim idea that he had heard some one say once, that below the mountains, folks made people pay for about everything they got.
"Keep your cash, my boy," said the man evidently having a better idea of Ralph than at first. "Hold to all you've got. People are not as free with their grub and beds down here as they are up in your country. By the way, what's your name?"
"Ralph Granger. What might be yours?"
"Mine? Oh, my name is Quigg—Lemuel Quigg. I am a traveling photographer."
"What is that?"
"Did I ever see such ignorance! Ralph, you are a curiosity. I take pictures for a living. Usually I go by wagon. But I am bound for the seacoast, so I hired this car to take me right through."
"There was a fellow up in our parts once as took pictures for two bits apiece."