"Did you ever see a murderer with a bald head like that?" she asked.
It seemed to the girls as if the path must be at least a mile long, but
just as they were despairing of ever reaching the end of it, they came out
into a partially cleared space and through the trees caught a glimpse of
something that looked like a house.
Their new acquaintance, who up to this time had been bringing up the rear,
now took the lead and led them over tangled underbrush, stones and
foot-bruising rocks, to his strange little dwelling.
"It's a house, it's a house!" cried Grace thankfully, as they hurried
after the little man. "I guess somebody will have to wring me out when we
get inside. I'm soaked through!"
"Goodness, why don't you tell us something we don't know?" grumbled
Mollie, but nobody was listening to her. They had reached the house and
the man had swung the door open hospitably.
"Step inside, step inside, do," he urged with a nervous gesture that
reminded the girls once more of the proverbial hen. "You will find it dry
at least, and I will have a fire for you in a hurry. Just a moment till I
get some wood--just a moment--"
And while he rambled on, suiting his words with quick nervous action, the
girls crowded inside the cottage and looked about them curiously.
The room they had entered was large and scrupulously neat. At first glance
it seemed a queer combination of hunting lodge and museum of natural
history. The rough clapboards and beams of the ceiling and walls had never
been plastered, and this very crudity seemed somehow to give the room an
air of warmth and home-likeness that was very inviting.
Hung on the walls were several fairly large skins of animals, a gun or
two, and over the huge open fireplace, which very nearly covered one end
of the room, hung the magnificent head of a buck.
On the wall opposite the fireplace was a set of rudely-erected shelves,
one beneath the other, and these shelves were covered with specimens of
butterflies, beetles and other bugs of every size and description. That
the specimens had been mounted by an expert even an inexperienced eye
could see.
The girls, who had been regarding the oddities of the room with growing
interest, were brought back to a realization of the discomfort of wet
clothes by the owner of the place himself.
The latter had brought firewood from somewhere, and, with the aid of half
a dozen matches, had succeeded in getting a fairly good blaze.
Then with a smile of satisfaction he turned to the girls, rubbing his
hands together genially.
"Come nearer to the fire--come closer--do," he urged in his quick nervous
way. "I am sure you are chilled through--quite chilled through. I will
bring chairs." He stopped abruptly and looked about him with an
embarrassed air, his gaze coming to rest on the only chair which adorned
the room.
Betty, seeing his confusion, was trying to think of something helpful to
say, when the little man suddenly found a way out of his quandary.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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