A week later found Dean only a hundred miles farther on his way. He might have accomplished this distance on the cars in a few hours, but he preferred to make a leisurely trip, looking out for a chance to earn money on the way. But after a season of prosperity a dull time had come to him. During the week he did not make a single dollar. He encountered several fair-sized towns, but did not feel able to give an entire entertainment himself. His stock of money dwindled, and he began to feel anxious. Towards nightfall he found himself apparently at a distance from any town, and began to feel some solicitude as to where he could pass the night. It was a mountain region, and the day seemed to be shorter than on the plains. The air was chilly, and Dean felt that it would be dangerous to spend the night out of doors. In this emergency he was pleased to descry a rough cabin a hundred feet from the road. "There is shelter at any rate if they will take me In," thought Dean. "I will take care not to wander into such a wild region again." He went up to the door, and knocked with his bare knuckles. He heard a shuffling noise inside, and an old woman, with gray hair, unconfined and hanging loose like a horse's mane, faced him. "Who are you?" she inquired abruptly. "A traveler," answered Dean. "What do you want?" "I have lost my way. Can you let me stay here all night?" "This isn't a tavern," she responded in a surly tone. "I suppose not, but I am willing to pay for supper and a lodging. I don't see any other house near by, or I would not trouble you." The old woman eyed him with a curious scrutiny which made him vaguely uncomfortable, so weird and uncanny was her look. "Have you got any money?" she asked at last. "A little," answered Dean, growing suddenly cautious. "Well, you can come in," she said after a pause. Dean entered, and cast a glance about him. The cabin was certainly a primitive one. What furniture it contained seemed home made, put together awkwardly with such material as came to hand. In place of chairs were two boxes such as are used to contain shoes, placed bottom up. There was a small stove, the heat of which seemed grateful to the chilly young traveler. "It is cold," remarked Dean, by way of opening the conversation. "Humph!" answered the woman. "Have you come all the way to tell me that?" "Evidently the old woman isn't sociable," thought Dean. "Where do you live when you're to home?" asked the woman after a pause. "In New York State." "What did you come out here for?" "I had my living to make," answered Dean, feeling uncomfortable. "I haven't found any, and I've lived here goin' on ten years. I suppose you want some supper," she continued ungraciously. "Yes, I am very hungry. I am sorry to put you to any trouble." The woman did not answer, but going to a rude pantry took out a plate of meat, and some dry bread. The former she put in the oven, and proceeded to brew some tea.