Their horses refreshed by the rest and the grass they had cropped, Jesse gave the word to re-saddle and mount and they resumed their cross-state ride. Throughout the day they advanced, picking their course through the woods, till along toward dusk their hunger decided them to halt near a farmhouse where they determined to secure some food. Leaving Cole with John to guard the horses, that the more experienced man might steady the lad and parry any pertinent questions should any inquisitive countryman stumble upon them, the bandit-chieftain and Jim started for the house. Keeping under cover of the bushes till they reached the road, they scanned the buildings closely as they approached. The unpainted boards, made grey by exposure to wind and rain, bespoke the occupants as not overburdened with worldly goods. The roof of a shed running from the house to the barn was sadly in the need of repair, giving evidence of being on the verge of collapsing, and as they turned into the yard a litter of pails, broken-down wagons and all sorts of old rubbish suggested that the inmates were shiftless as well as poor. "Not very inviting," commented John, taking in the surroundings. "You can't always judge by appearances," returned his chief. And as the door was opened in response to his rap, his companion conceded that he was right. Looking at them with frightened eyes was a girl of possibly twenty years, her beauty in startling contrast to the ragged calico wrapper in which she was clad. A mass of Titian hair, glorious despite its disorder, crowned a face exquisite in its fine moulding and delicate colouring. Her eyes, blue and innocent as a babe's, alone bore trace of the poverty and want her environment proclaimed. Blushing at the frank admiration in the faces of the men before her, the girl seemed to realize the incongruity of her appearance and in a tone of resentment demanded: "What do you want?" "We should like to get something to eat, if you will sell it to us," replied the bandit-chieftain. "Food? You come _here_ for food?" exclaimed the creature, and then burst into a laugh, awful in its bitterness. Surprised at her action, Jesse was about to speak when she went on: "We haven't enough for ourselves, let alone strangers. There's nothing in the house but a little corn meal. Ma's in bed with a fever, baby's ailing and they took our cow away from us today." Then, as though ashamed for her rancor, she added: "But if we _had_ anything you'd be welcome." His big heart ever warm for those in distress, as he heard of the tribulations besetting the fair girl and her family, the world-famous desperado became interested and when the loss of the cow was disclosed, he uttered an ejaculation of anger that anyone should be so cruel. Something of what was passing through his mind showed in his eyes and instead of closing the door, as she started to do, the girl looked at him eagerly. "Where are the men folks?" he asked.