oved his hat, and said, "Good-day, ma'am."

Mrs. Brown scrutinized the new-comer with critical eyes. She decided
that he was not as good-looking as John Miles. Indeed Bill Crane never
could have been accounted handsome; but on this point the widow was not
exacting. She was looking for somebody to fill the place of her lamented
Brown, and relieve her loneliness, and it was Crane's eligibility in
this respect that she was considering. Beauty was but skin deep, as Mrs.
Brown was practical enough to admit, and she was not overstocked with
that attractive quality herself. Though Crane did not know it, the
resolute, middle-aged female, from whom he hoped to obtain a gratuitous
dinner, was making up her mind to offer him the position of husband.

"Good-day, stranger," she answered composedly. "Are you travelin' fur?"

"I'm thinkin' of goin' to Frisco," he said, "but it's a long journey and
I'm fagged out. If you have no objection, I'll stop at your place and
see if I can rest a few minutes."

"You can stop if you want to," she said. "I don't see much company, and
I like to see a new face now and then."

"So do I," said Crane, thinking a little flattery might help him;
"especially when it's the face of a good-looking woman."

"I ain't good-lookin' enough to hurt me," returned Mrs. Brown, with a
frankness which rather disconcerted and puzzled Crane, "but I don't mind
you callin' me so. If you are anyways hungry, I haven't cleared away the
dinner, and--"

"You are very kind," broke in Crane, eagerly; "I don't mind saying I am
a little bit hungry."

"All right, stranger. If you'll wait long enough for me to make some hot
tea, and warm the victuals, you shall have a chance to judge of my
cookin'."

Bill Crane was quite elated. He decided that the widow would not ask him
for payment, thus saving him from embarrassing excuses. In due time he
was called in and seated in the chair not long since occupied by John
Miles.

"You're the second man that's dined with me to-day," said the widow.

"And who was the first lucky man?" inquired Crane, suspecting at once
that it might have been Miles.

"I don't know his name, but he was a good-looking young man, who said he
had had a bag of gold-dust stolen from him."

"That's Miles," thought Crane; and he at once decided not to betray any
knowledge of him.

"He was in bad luck," said Bill. "Did he know who stole it?"

"He didn't tell me. I don't think he knew."

"That's well," t