Maurice approached the door.  A yellow dog began to bark furiously, the three children ran like frightened sheep, since they seldom saw strangers there, and immediately a slatternly looking woman with the customary thin face of the “poor white trash” of the South made her appearance at the door.

“There’s a snuff-dipper for you,” said Maurice in a whisper to his chum, as he noted the signs about the mouth of the squatter’s wife.

The woman was surveying them with wonder, and not a little awe.

“We want to find George Stormway’s place; can you tell us how far along it lies?” asked the boy, politely.

It was wonderful how her tired face brightened up.  Perhaps she had not heard such a pleasant voice for ages; and dim echoes of some far off past had been awakened.

“Sho I kin, stranger.  It be the second house ’long.  Hyah, Danny, yuh gwine tuh show these hyah gentlemen the Stormway place.  Git a move on yuh, now, er I’ll peel the hide from yuh back, sho.  Yuh see,” she added, turning once more to the visitors, “Danny, he’s ben over tuh take his lesson from Missus Stormway once a week.  He kin read tuh beat the band.  Git erlong, Danny, an’ yuh ’member what I sez!”

Of course there was no necessity for a guide, since they were so near their destination.  Maurice believed he could understand the motive that influenced the woman of the house—­she hoped these strangers might be liberal enough to bestow a nickel upon Danny for his services; and possibly her stock of snuff was running low.

But they were so glad to know that the journey was nearly over that they made no objection.  Maurice believed he could spare a nickel to square accounts.

Danny trotted on ahead.  He was a shy little chap, barefooted, of course, and with a ragged shirt and baggy trousers that had evidently been made from a gunny-sack.

Maurice happened to have an old newspaper in his pocket, which contained a few illustrations.  It might serve the budding genius as a means for advancing his reading abilities; and so he called Danny back, to present it to him, at the same time also handing over the coveted coin.

For they had passed another shack, where the squalor was even more positive than in the former case, and come in sight of George’s home.

“Bully!” Thad could not help saying, as soon as his eager eyes alighted on the little cabin.

Maurice understood just how he felt; indeed, he was experiencing the same sense of relief; for the sight of filth and poverty combined is a terrible thing.

But the Stormway cabin was different.  Everywhere could be seen evidences of a woman’s hand.  Flowers adorned the beds in front, and in the rear there were vegetables calculated to give the family many a meal.

Here, as everywhere, a couple of dogs barked in noisy greeting; but to the boys even these yellow curs seemed of a different breed from those guarding other shacks where poverty abounded.