"Stop!" commanded the child in a voice of alarm. "Haven't you got any sense? Want to get me stung? If you make a noise the hornets will come sneaking over to see what is going on." His manner changed to one of great politeness as he went on, "I have a house back here. You can come over there and dust yourselves if you want to." He slid down back of the rock. When he reappeared around its corner, he made funny little skips and for the first time they noticed that he used a crutch. One of his legs was flexed by distorted muscles until he carried it a couple of inches above the ground. Notwithstanding this handicap, he moved rapidly along a pathway ahead of him. Where the grass of the meadow began at the edge of the woods, he waited for them and pointed with pride to a small opening in a clump of birches. "This is my house," he told them. Virginia dropped upon her knees and peeped in. "How lovely," she cried. Before her the flat top of a rock projecting slightly above the surface of the ground served as a floor. A thick hedge of birch saplings grew about it, constituting the walls. The branches arching it had been cut away as high as a man's head. Above this they joined in a dense mass, forming the roof of the bower. Following their little host, the girls entered. "What a lovely house," said Helen. "Did you make it?" "God made most of it," he answered with great solemnity. "Mother cut away the high branches and I cut the low ones and it was done. I didn't have it all, at first, though." "How was that?" Helen inquired. "Mr. Woodchuck lived in the cellar beneath the stone. There is his stairway." He pointed to an opening at the edge of the rock, surrounded by pebbles and clay. "As soon as I moved in Mr. Woodchuck moved out." "Are you all alone now?" "Oh, no indeed, a chipmunk lives over there, who is very friendly. Up in that tree is a bird's nest; but the young ones have gone away now. Then there are the hornets and a snake lives under the rock over there." "Snakes!" screamed both of the girls. "Yes, a grass snake." The infant was openly disgusted at the display of feminine timidity. "Who's afraid of an old snake? I'm not. That snake is so afraid that I will catch him that he don't dare come out." The neighborhood distrust relieved the fears of the visitors and they began to make themselves comfortable. "Oh, 'V.,' this would be a grand place to eat our lunch," suggested Helen and to the boy she said, "We have something to eat in our boat. May we bring it here and will you have lunch with us?" "That would be fine," he agreed. "You get your lunch and I will get some milk for us to drink from my mother." "Don't disturb her," protested Virginia. "We have plenty. And we have a thermos bottle of water, too." "My mother won't care a bit. She loves to have me eat and she wants me to drink lots of milk so that I will grow big and strong to take care of her. I haven't any father, you see." Without further words the lad disappeared.