it supper--or dinner, I don't jist ree-collect which."

It had been three years since our friend had boarded at Dutton's house.
There was no doubt that the man was not living at his old place now.
My wife and I now agreed that it was very foolish in us to come so far
without making more particular inquiries. But we had had an idea that a
man who had a place like Dutton's tavern would live there always.

"What are ye goin' to do?" asked the driver, very much interested,
for it was not every day that he had passengers who had lost their
destination. "Ye might go on to Lowry's. He takes boarders sometimes."

But Lowry's did not attract us. An ordinary country-tavern, where
stage-passengers took supper, was not what we came so far to find.

"Do you know where this house o' Dutton's is?" said the driver, to the
man who had once taken either dinner or supper there.

"Oh yes! I'd know the house well enough, if I saw it. It's the fust
house this side o' Lowry's."

"With a big pole in front of it?" asked the driver.

"Yes, there was a sign-pole in front of it."

"An a long porch?"

"Yes."

"Oh! well!" said the driver, settling himself in his seat. "I know all
about that house. That's a empty house. I didn't think you meant that
house. There's nobody lives there. An' yit, now I come to remember, I
have seen people about, too. I tell ye what ye better do. Since ye're so
set on staying on this side the ridge, ye better let me put ye down
at Dan Carson's place. That's jist about quarter of a mile from where
Dutton used to live. Dan's wife can tell ye all about the Duttons, an'
about everybody else, too, in this part o' the country, and if there
aint nobody livin' at the old tavern, ye can stay all night at Carson's,
and I'll stop an' take you back, to-morrow, when I come along."

We agreed to this plan, for there was nothing better to be done, and,
late in the afternoon, we were set down with our small trunk--for we
were traveling under light weight--at Dan Carson's door. The stage was
rather behind time, and the driver whipped up and left us to settle our
own affairs. He called back, however, that he would keep a good lookout
for us to-morrow.

Mrs. Carson soon made her appearance, and, very naturally, was somewhat
surprised to see visitors with their baggage standing on her little
porch. She was a plain, coarsely dressed woman, with an apron full
of chips and kindling wood, and a fine mind for detail, as we soon
disc