t the bars and shouted

"Hello!"

The man stopped his axe in mid-air and turned. A woman, with a baby in
her arms, appeared in the light of the door with children crowding
about her.

"Hello!" answered the man.

"I want to git to stay all night." The man hesitated.

"We don't keep people all night."

"Not keep people all night," thought Chad with wonder.

"Oh, I reckon you will," he said. Was there anybody in the world who
wouldn't take in a stranger for the night? From the doorway the woman
saw that it was a boy who was asking shelter and the trust in his voice
appealed vaguely to her.

"Come in!" she called, in a patient, whining tone. "You can stay, I
reckon."

But Chad changed his mind suddenly. If they were in doubt about wanting
him--he was in no doubt as to what he would do.

"No, I reckon I'd better git on," he said sturdily, and he turned and
limped back up the hill to the road--still wondering, and he remembered
that, in the mountains, when people wanted to stay all night, they
usually stopped before sundown. Travelling after dark was suspicious in
the mountains, and perhaps it was in this land, too. So, with this
thought, he had half a mind to go back and explain, but he pushed on.
Half a mile farther, his foot was so bad that he stopped with a cry of
pain in the road and, seeing a barn close by, he climbed the fence and
into the loft and burrowed himself under the hay. From under the shed
he could see the stars rising. It was very still and very lonely and he
was hungry--hungrier and lonelier than he had ever been in his life,
and a sob of helplessness rose to his lips--if he only had Jack--but he
held it back.

"I got to ack like a man now." And, saying this over and over to
himself, he went to sleep.

CHAPTER 7.

A FRIEND ON THE ROAD

Rain fell that night--gentle rain and warm, for the south wind rose at
midnight. At four o clock a shower made the shingles over Chad rattle
sharply, but without wakening the lad, and then the rain ceased; and
when Chad climbed stiffly from his loft--the world was drenched and
still, and the dawn was warm, for spring had come that morning, and
Chad trudged along the road--unchilled. Every now and then he had to
stop to rest his foot. Now and then he would see people getting
breakfast ready in the farm-houses that he passed, and, though his
little belly was drawn with pain, he would not stop and ask for
something to eat--for he did not want to risk anot