"Hello! Hello!" called Dick loudly.
This also was the usual mountain notification that a guest had come,
and the heavy board door of the house opened inward. A man, elderly,
but dark and strong, with the high cheek bones of an Indian stood in the
door, the light of a fire blazing in the fireplace on the opposite side
of the wall throwing him in relief. His hair was coal black, long and
coarse, increasing his resemblance to an Indian.
Dick rode close to the door, and, without hesitation, asked for a
night's shelter and food. This was his inalienable right in the hills
or mountains of his state, and he would be a strange man indeed who
would refuse it.
The man sharply bade the dogs be silent and they retreated behind the
house, their tails drooping. Then he said to Dick in a tone that was
not without hospitality:
"'Light, stranger, an' we'll put up your horse. Mandy will have supper
ready by the time we finish the job."
Dick sprang down gladly, but staggered a little at first from the
stiffness of his legs.
"You've rid far, stranger," said the man, who Dick knew at once had a
keen eye and a keen brain, "an' you're young, too."
"But not younger than many who have gone to the war," replied Dick.
"In fact, you see many who are not older than fifteen or sixteen."
He had spoken hastily and incautiously and he realized it at once.
The man's keen gaze was turned upon him again.
"You've seen the armies, then?" he said.
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