in the half ruined wall of what had once been a hay
barn the rosy flare of a genial light which appeared to
announce in all but human terms that man, red blooded
and hospitable, forgathered within. No growling dogs,
no bulking bulls contested the short stretch of weed
grown ground between the road and the disintegrat-
ing structure; and presently two wide, brown eyes were
peering through a crack in the wall of the abandoned
building. What they saw was a small fire built upon
the earth floor in the center of the building and around
the warming blaze the figures of six men. Some reclined
at length upon old straw; others squatted, Turk fash-
ion. All were smoking either disreputable pipes or rolled
cigarets. Blear-eyed and foxy-eyed, bearded and stub-
bled cheeked, young and old, were the men the youth
looked upon. All were more or less dishevelled and
filthy; but they were human. They were not dogs, or
bulls, or croaking frogs. The boy's heart went out to
them. Something that was almost a sob rose in his
throat, and then he turned the corner of the building
and stood in the doorway, the light from the fire playing
upon his lithe young figure clothed in its torn and ill-
fitting suit and upon his oval face and his laughing
brown eyes. For several seconds he stood there looking
at the men around the fire. None of them had noticed
him.

"Tramps!" thought the youth. "Regular tramps." He
wondered that they had not seen him, and then, clear-
ing his throat, he said: "Hello, tramps!"