“Good morning,” they answered. They started off through the woods in the direction he had indicated, but after a few yards Allan turned and looked back. The man, with the setter at heel, was moving along a path at right angles to them. He glanced up and waved his hand. “We’re sorry about the ducks,” called Allan. “That’s so,” Pete shouted. The man nodded good-naturedly. Then the trees hid him. Allan and Pete walked on in silence for a ways. Then-- “Say, he wasn’t such a bad sort, was he?” asked Allan. “No, he’s all right. I don’t believe he was going to do any more than scare us, anyway. Guess he was just having some fun with us.” “Wasn’t it funny about the ducks being tame ones?” asked Allan, presently, as they left the woods, climbed over a stone wall, and struck off up a lane. “That’s a joke on me,” said Pete, laughing. “Ginger! How was I to know that folks left their old ducks floating around loose all over the country here? Out our way, when you see a duck in a lake or on the river, it’s a wild duck, and you just naturally go ahead and shoot it. That’s what bothered me--those fool ducks sitting there and letting me throw rocks at ’em. Next time-- Say, I guess that’s our ranch over there.” Allan’s gaze followed the other’s. A turn in the lane laid bare a broad expanse of lawn, interspersed with ornamental trees and shrubbery, beyond which stood a long, rambling house of brown-shingled walls and numerous red chimneys. Farther off were stables and barns. From the chimneys the smoke arose straight into the still air, suggesting warmth and good cheer. The boys paused and looked longingly across the lawn. “Shall we try it?” asked Allan. “Sure!” Pete said. “I’m so hungry I could eat cedar bark.” “But what will they think?” Allan demurred. “It isn’t as though it were a farmhouse, you know.” “_That’s_ all right; the sweller the folks the better the rations. Come on; let’s cut across here.” “We’ll just ask for some bread and a glass of milk,” suggested Allan. “Bread and milk? Ginger! I’ve got to have pie and hot coffee!” “But we’ll go to the back door, won’t we?” “Like tramps? Not a bit of it. We’ll go to the front. What was the name he told us?” “Guild.” “That’s right; Guild. Hello! look there; there’s another one of those setter dogs. Looks just like the beast the fellow back there had, doesn’t it?” But this dog only observed them indifferently from a respectful distance, and then trotted around the corner of the house as they mounted the broad steps, crossed a wide veranda, and pushed the ivory button beside the big oaken door. Allan strove to appear at ease, but in reality looked as though he had come to steal the family silver. A neatly-aproned maid opened the door. “Is Mr. Guild in?” asked Pete, with unruffled composure.