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.