"Even a corner of a rug to roll up in will do perfectly."

"You see, it is impossible for me to entertain you."

"Bare boards will do well enough for me, Colonel Macon. And if I have a
piece of bread, a plate of cold beans--anything--I can entertain
myself."

"I am sorry to see you so compliant, Mr. Donnegan, because that makes my
refusal seem the more unkind. But I cannot have you sleeping on the bare
floor. Not on such a night. Pneumonia comes on one like a cat in the
dark in such weather. It is really impossible to keep you here, sir."

"H'm-m," said Donnegan. He began to feel that he was stumped, and it was
a most unusual feeling for him.

"Besides, for a young fellow like you, with your agility, what is eight
miles? Walk down the road and you will come to a place where you will be
made at home and fed like a king."

"Eight miles, that's not much! But on such a night as this?"

There was a faint glint in the eyes of the colonel; was he not
sharpening his wits for his contest of words, and enjoying it?

"The wind will be at your back and buoy your steps. It will shorten the
eight miles to four."

Very definitely Donnegan felt that the other was reading him. What was
it that he saw as he turned the pages?