FUR FACTS 277 



"Not by any means," I assented, "my name's Rounds Tom 

 Rounds, and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask the same of you.'* 



"My name is Alice Blake," she confided. 



"A very pretty name," I said, earnestly, sprinkling sugar over my 

 oatmeal. 



She only smiled in acknowledgement and we sat for some time in 

 silence. 



"Alice! Alice!" came faintly from the adjoining room. It was 

 her mother calling, and I saw from the expression on her face as she 

 left the table that she anticipated difficulty of some kind. 



I had finished my breakfast hurriedly and was ready to go when 

 she entered the room again. 



"You are going?" she inquired with a look of what I hoped was 

 disappointment. 



"Yes, unless I can be of some help to you," I replied. 



"There is nothing that you could do here, mother won't see 

 anyone but me and she refuses to have a doctor." 



I had hardly expected this reply from her, but I lost no time in 

 getting on my way. I placed a dollar on the table to pay for my 

 night's lodging and the two meals, and thanking her very kindly for 

 her hospitality, I put out for home once more. 



That day I passed through Clarkson and on to Maiden. At 

 Maiden I stopped at an inn and partook of a thirty-five cent supper, 

 and leaving a little before sundown I followed the roadway into a 

 big forest. Darkness came on, and with it the distant howl of the 

 wolf. I shuddered as my mind reverted to my former experience 

 with the wolves and I was on the point of turning back to the town 

 when I saw a light burst upon my horizon. Advancing in the direc- 

 tion of the light I saw presently a saw mill. The mill-owner, who was 

 leaving for the night, granted me permission to sleep in the mill, 

 giving me some old robes for a bed. Here I would have doubtless 

 slept comfortable had it not been for the rats, but they seemed to 

 hail my coming as an occasion for great merry-making and all night 

 long they scampered gleefully across the bare floor, stopping now and 

 then to gnaw a hole in a board close by. 



Unable to sleep, I contented myself by visioning the face of 

 Alice Blake and attempting to account, in some manner, for the fact 

 that she, a beautiful and, apparently, innocent girl, was the daughter 

 of a bandit and a robber. Certainly, I had never had any high 

 regard for bandits and had I felt that she was in any way involved 

 in the malicious practices of her father, I would have banished her 



