Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Nature -- Juvenile fiction; Self-reliance -- Juvenile fiction
At length when it was past the hour of noon, Martin sat down under a
small bush that gave just shade enough to cover him and none to spare.
It was only a little spot of shade like an island in a sea of heat
and brightness. He was too hot and tired to run more, too tired even
to keep his eyes open, and so, propping his back against the stem of
the small bush, he closed his tired hot eyes.
CHAPTER IV
MARTIN IS FOUND BY A DEAF OLD MAN
Martin kept his eyes shut for only about a minute, as he thought;
but he must have been asleep some time, for when he opened them the
False Water had vanished, and the sun, looking very large and crimson,
was just about to set. He started up, feeling very thirsty and
hungry and bewildered; for he was far, far from home, and lost on
the great plain. Presently he spied a man coming towards him on
horseback. A very funny-looking old man he proved to be, with a face
wrinkled and tanned by sun and wind, until it resembled a piece of
ancient shoe-leather left lying for years on some neglected spot of
ground. A Brazil nut is not darker nor more wrinkled than was the
old man's face. His long matted beard and hair had once been white,
but the sun out of doors and the smoke in his smoky hut had given
them a yellowish tinge, so that they looked like dry dead grass. He
wore big jack-boots, patched all over, and full of cracks and holes;
and a great pea-jacket, rusty and ragged, fastened with horn buttons
big as saucers. His old brimless hat looked like a dilapidated
tea-cosy on his head, and to prevent it from being carried off by
the wind it was kept on with an old flannel shirtsleeve tied under
his chin. His saddle, too, like his clothes, was old and full of
rents, with wisps of hair and straw-stuffing sticking out in various
places, and his feet were thrust into a pair of big stirrups made of
pieces of wood and rusty iron tied together with string and wire.
[Illustration: ]
"Boy, what may you being a doing of here?" bawled this old man at
the top of his voice: for he was as deaf as a post, and like a good
many deaf people thought it necessary to speak very loud to make
himself heard.
"Playing," answered Martin innocently. But he could not make the old
man hear until he stood up on tip-toe and shouted out his answer as
loud as he could.
"Playing," exclaimed the old man. "Well, I never in all my life!
When there ain't a house 'cepting my own for leagues and leagues,
and he says he's playing! What may you be now?" he shouted again.
"A little boy," screamed Martin.
"I knowed that afore I axed," said the other. Then he slapped his
legs and held up his hands with astonishment, and at last began to
chuckle. "Will you come home along o' me?" he shouted.
"Will you give me something to eat?" asked Martin in return.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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