even a dog had barked as he approached the house. It was shiftless, it
was sinful--it boded no good to the future of Demorest.

He put down his carpet-bag on the veranda and entered the broad hall,
where an old-fashioned lantern was burning on a stand. Here, too, the
doors of the various apartments were open, and the rooms themselves
empty of occupants. An opportunity not to be lost by Ezekiel's inquiring
mind thus offered itself. He took the lantern and deliberately examined
the several apartments, the furniture, the bedding, and even the small
articles that were on the tables and mantels. When he had completed the
round--including a corridor opening on a dark courtyard, which he did
not penetrate--he returned to the hall, and set down the lantern again.

"Well," said a voice in his own familiar vernacular, "I hope you like
it."

Ezekiel was surprised, but not disconcerted. What he had taken in the
shadow for a bundle of serapes lying on the floor of the veranda,
was the recumbent figure of a man who now raised himself to a sitting
posture.

"Ez to that," drawled Ezekiel, with unshaken self-possession, "whether
I like it or not ez only a question betwixt kempany manners and
truth-telling. Beggars hadn't oughter be choosers, and transient
visitors like myself needn't allus speak their mind. But if you mean to
signify that with every door and window open and universal shiftlessness
lying round everywhere temptin' Providence, you ain't lucky in havin' a
feller-citizen of yours drop in on ye instead of some Mexican thief, I
don't agree with ye--that's all."