At sight of Elizabeth they stared open-mouthed. No other sort of appearance could have surprised them as much as that of a young woman alone in the wood road. “Good-morning,” said Elizabeth. The men did not answer her good-morning in kind, but made astonished inquiry. “You are not alone, miss?” “Yes.” “Where are you going, miss?” “I’m looking for a house. Aren’t there any on this road?” The men looked at one another. “There’s houses of a certain kind. There’s one round the bend; that’s the nearest. But if I were you I wouldn’t go any farther. There’s a good deal of reckless shooting in these woods, miss, and the people ain’t very hospitable except with bullets.” “_You_ aren’t afraid!” said Elizabeth. “No, but that’s different.” The speaker scratched his head seeking a reason for the difference. “You see they know we ain’t spyin’ on ’em, and ain’t likely to give any information against ’em. You see there ain’t no women goes in here but a nurse sometimes, and she ain’t afraid of nothing.” “Are there women living in there?” “Oh, yes.” “If you call them women,” said a second voice. “There’s an old one in the first house.” “I’ll walk that far,” said Elizabeth. “You’ll be working right here, will you?” “Yes, miss.” She knew that the men did not begin to work as long as she was in sight. Suddenly one of them ran after her. “She’s a crazy old woman,” he said. “But she’s paralyzed and she can’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid if she hollers!” She thanked him and he stood still and stared at her. When he returned to his mates, the three contemplated one another in silence. “Could she be a teacher?” asked one. “They chased the last teacher away before she ever taught.” “I think we oughtn’t to make a noise with our implements, but we ought to move up closer,” suggested the third. The three moved slowly up the road one behind the other. Elizabeth was thankful for the warning about the old woman’s “hollering.” It began suddenly and so near that she was startled. The cabin was hidden in a thicket; if it had not been for the shrill voice, she would have passed it. She parted the branches and looked into a little open space at a log house surrounded by heaps of wretched débris gathered in years of careless, slovenly living. She slipped in through the opening made by her arms and went to the door. The single room held three pieces of furniture, a queer old charcoal stove, a bed made of saplings with the bark still on and covered with a mattress from which the stuffing of leaves was bursting, and a broken chair. The chair stood by the bed and on it was a tin cup filled with some unrecognizable liquid and a part of a rough loaf of grayish bread. On the bed lay a pitiful old body of which only the dull eyes and lips and one hand seemed still alive. The eyes peered at Elizabeth as though the room were dark. “Is a human being coming to visit me in my misery?” asked the old voice. “Yes,” said Elizabeth, aghast.