his whiskers, Karl Marx. He's
liberal. He don't care what you say. He---- Oh, shut up! You're damn
poor company. Say something!"

Carl, still motionless, was the more agonized because there was no
sound from Gertie, not even a sobbing call. Anything might have
happened to her. While he was coaxing himself to knock on the pane,
Stillman puttered about the shack, petting the dog, filling his pipe.
He passed out of Carl's range of vision toward the side of the room in
which was the window.

A huge hand jerked the window open and caught Carl by the hair. Two
wild faces stared at each other, six inches apart.

"I saw you. Came here to plague me!" roared Bone Stillman.

"Oh, mister, oh please, mister, I wasn't. Me and Gertie is lost in the
woods--we----Ouch! Oh, _please_ lemme go!"

"Why, you're just a brat! Come here."

The lean arm of Bone Stillman dragged Carl through the window by the
slack of his gingham waist.

"Lost, heh? Where's t'other one--Gertie, was it?"

"She's over in the woods."

"Poor little tyke! Wait 'll I light my lantern."

The swinging lantern made friendly ever-changing circles of light, and
Carl no longer feared the dangerous territory of the yard. Riding
pick-a-back on Bone Stillman, he looked down contentedly on the dog's
deferential tail beside them. They found Gertie asleep by the fire.
She scarcely awoke as Stillman picked her up and carried her back to
his shack. She nestled her downy hair beneath his chin and closed her
eyes.

Stillman said, cheerily, as he ushered them into his mansion: "I'll
hitch up and take you back to town. You young tropical tramps! First
you better have a bite to eat, though. What do kids eat, bub?"

The dog was nuzzling Carl's hand, and Carl had almost forgotten his
fear that the devil might appear. He was flatteringly friendly in his
answer: "Porritch and meat and potatoes--only I don't like potatoes,
and--_pie!_"

"'Fraid I haven't any pie, but how'd some bacon and eggs go?" As he
stoked up his cannon-ball stove and sliced the bacon, Stillman
continued to the children, who were shyly perched on the buffalo-robe
cover of his bed, "Were you scared in the woods?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't ever for----Da----Blast that egg! Don't forget this, son:
nothing outside of you can ever hurt you. It can chew up your toes,
but it can't reach you. Nobody but you can hurt you. Let me try to
make that clear, old man, if I can....

"There's your fodder. Draw up and set t