cabin.

In the doorway an old man, with a short cutty-pipe between his lips,
leaned upon a crutch and surveyed the sky with weatherwise eyes.

Bill instantly recognized him as the old man with the twisted leg who
tendered the well-meant advice upon the night of his first arrival in
the little town, and his face reddened as he remembered the
supercilious disregard with which he had received it.

For a moment he hesitated, then advanced toward the door. The old man
removed his cutty-pipe and regarded him curiously.

"Good morning!" called Bill with just a shade of embarrassment.

"Good marnin' yersilf!" grinned the other, a twinkle in his little
eyes.

"May I ask where I will find a man called Daddy Dunnigan?"

"In about foive minutes ye'll foind um atein' breakfust wid a
shtrappin' young hearty wid a sore fut. Come an in. Oi'm me own
housekaper, cook, an' bottle-washer; but, av Oi do say ut mesilf, Oi've
seen wor-rse!"

"So you are Daddy Dunnigan?" asked Bill as he gazed hungrily upon the
steaming saucers of oatmeal, the sizzling ham, and the yellow globes of
fresh eggs fried "sunny side up."

"Ye'll take a wee nip befoor ye eat?" asked his host, reaching to the
chimney-shelf for a squat, black bottle.

"No, thanks," smiled Bill. "I don't use it."

"Me, nayther," replied the other with a chuckle; "Oi misuse ut," and,
pouring himself a good half tin cupful, swallowed it neat at a gulp.

The meal over, the men lighted their pipes, and Bill broached the
object of his visit. The old man listened and, when Bill finished, spat
reflectively into the wood-box.

"So Buck Moncrossen sint ye afther me, did he?"

"Yes. He said you were a good cook, and I can certainly bear him out in
that; but he said that you would only work if you damn good and felt
like it, and if you didn't you wouldn't." The old man grinned.

"He's roight agin, an' Oi'll be tellin' ye now Oi damn good an' don't
feel loike wor-rkin' f'r Moncrossen, th' dirthy pirate, takin' a man's
pay wid wan hand an' shtealin' his timber wid th' other. He'd cut th'
throat av his own mither f'r th' price av a dhrink.

"An' did he sind ye down afoot an' expict me to shtroll back wi' ye,
th' both av us on crutches?"

"No, I have a team here," laughed Bill. "They are in Creed's stable."

"Creed's!" The old man glanced at him sharply. "Phwat ar-re they doin'
at Creed's?"

"Well, that is a long story; but it sums up about like this: I see you
know Moncrossen