Dean did not allow his speculations as to his hostess to interfere with his appetite, but he ate with an enjoyment which he had seldom before felt the food set before him.

"'Pears to me you've got a right smart appetite," said the woman.

"Yes, I have," said Dean, frankly. "I don't know when I have been so hungry. I am ashamed of my appetite, but I can't help it."

"Young folks is mostly hungry," said the woman.

"Especially when they have such nice things set before them."

The woman, rough as she was, seemed pleased by this tribute to her culinary skill.

"Well, you needn't be afraid to eat all you want to," she said encouragingly.

Dean took her at her word, and when he rose from the table, he had made way with a large share of the repast provided.

It had grown quite dark in the deepening shadows of the hills, but it was a twilight darkness, not the darkness of midnight.

"I think I will go out and take a walk," said Dean, turning to his hostess.

"You'll come back?" she asked with apparent anxiety.

"Yes, for I don't want to sleep out of doors. I can settle for my supper now if you wish."

"No, you can wait till morning."

"Very well!"

Dean left the house, and walked some distance over the mountain road. Finally, being a little fatigued from his day's travel and the hearty supper he had eaten, he lay down under a tree, and enjoyed the luxury of rest on a full stomach.

In the stillness of the woods it was possible to hear even a sound ordinarily indistinct. Gradually Dean became sensible of a peculiar noise which seemed like the distant murmur of voices. He looked about him in all directions, but failed to understand from what the voices proceeded. It seemed almost as if the sounds came from below. Yet this seemed absurd.

"There can't be any mine about here," reflected Dean. "If there were, I could understand a little better about the sounds."

Certainly it was not a very likely place for a mine.

"I wonder if I am dreaming," thought Dean.

He rubbed his eyes, and satisfied himself that he was as much awake as he ever was in his life.

He got up and walked around, looking inquisitively about him, in the hope of localizing the sound. Suddenly it stopped, and all was complete silence. Then he was quite at a loss.

"I don't know what it means. I may as well lie down and rest again. I imagine my landlady won't care about seeing me before it is time to go to bed."

With this thought Dean dismissed his conjectures, and gave himself up to a pleasant reverie. He didn't worry, though his prospects were not of the best. He was nearly out of money, and there appeared no immediate prospect of earning more. Where he was he did not know, except that he was somewhere among the mountains of Colorado.

"I wish I could come across some mining settlement," thought Dean. "I couldn't buy a claim, but I could perhaps hire out to some miner, and after a while get rich enough to own one myself."

Suddenly his reflections were broken in upon by a discordant voice.

"Who are you, youngster, and where did you drop from?"

Looking up quickly, Dean's glance fell upon a rough-looking man, in hunting costume considerably the worse for wear, with a slouched hat on his head, and a rifle in his hand. The man's face was far from prepossessing, and his manner did not strike Dean as friendly.

"My name is Dean Dunham," he said in answer to the first question, then paused.

"How came you here?"

"I am traveling."

"Where from?"

"New York State."

"What brings a boy like you so far from home? Is there anyone with you?" demanded the man suspiciously.

"No; I wish there was. I had a companion, but he got a call to go home on account of his mother's sickness."

"And you pushed on?"

"Yes."

"What are you after—it isn't game, for you've got no gun."

"No; I'm after a chance to make a living, as much as anything."

"Couldn't you make a living at home?"

"Not one that satisfied me."

"Can you do any better here?"

"I can't tell yet," answered Dean, while an expression of genuine perplexity overspread his face. It was a question which he had often asked himself. "I think if I could come across some mining settlement I could work for myself or somebody else."

"Are you goin' to stay out all night? There ain't many hotels round here."

"I have had supper, and am going to spend the night at a cabin about a mile from here."

"You are!" exclaimed the hunter in a tone of profound astonishment. "How did you get in?"

"I asked a woman who lives there if she would let me stop over night, and she was kind enough to say yes."

"Then you have had your supper?"

"Yes."

"And are you goin' to sleep in the cabin?"

"Yes. Do you live anywhere near it?"

"Well, I should smile! Youngster, that's where I live, and the woman who gave you your supper is my mother."

"Then you are Dan," said Dean, eagerly.

"How do you know my name?"

"Your mother told me you killed the bear whose meat I ate for supper."

"That's correct, youngster. I killed him, but it's nothing to kill a b'ar. I've killed hundreds of 'em."

"I should be proud if I could say I had killed one," said Dean, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"If you stay round here long enough, you may have a chance. But I'm goin' home. It's growin' dark and you may as well go with me."

Dean rose from his recumbent position, and drew his watch from his pocket.

"Yes," he said, "it's past eight o'clock."

"Let me look at that watch. Is it gold?" asked his companion, and his eyes showed the same covetous gleam which Dean had noticed in the mother.

"I wish I had hidden the watch in an inside pocket," he thought, too late. "I am afraid it will be taken from me before I get away from these mountains."

"What might it be worth?" demanded the other, after fingering it curiously with his clumsy hands.

"I don't know," answered Dean, guardedly. "I did not buy it. It was given to me."

"Is it worth a hundred dollars?"

"I don't think it is. It may be worth fifty."

"Humph! are you rich?"

"No; far from it! I am a poor boy."

"That doesn't look like it."

"The watch was given to me by a rich man to whom I had done a service."

The man handed it back, but it seemed with reluctance.

"Youngster, what do you think of my mother?" he asked, abruptly.

"She treated me kindly," answered Dean, rather embarrassed.

"Did you agree to pay her for your lodging?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. Mother ain't one of the soft kind. Did she strike you as an agreeable old lady?"

"I only saw her for a few minutes," said Dean, evasively.

His companion laughed, and surveyed Dean quizzically.

"You must stretch your legs, youngster, or mother'll get tired waiting for me. She might take a notion not to give me any supper."

It was not long before they came in sight of the cabin. Here a surprise, and by no means an agreeable one, awaited Dean. On a bench in front of the cabin sat a man whom he had good reason to remember, and equal reason to fear—Peter Kirby.