ber me!" howled
Blumpo. "I ain't dun nuffin' 'deed I ain't. I'se de best boy in Lakeview!
Ain't I, Harry? Ain't dat de truf, Jerry?"

"I will not harm you, so do not be afraid," said the hermit with a faint
smile on his reddish-black face.

"I won't tell a t'ing! not a word, sah, hope ter die if I do!" went on
Blumpo, still keeping his face down.

He was afraid that if he looked at the hermit he would be bewitched.

"Blumpo, get up!" said Harry, sharply. "Don't make a fool of yourself.
This gentleman is not going to hurt you. Stand up and be a man."

Thus spoken to, the homeless boy arose slowly to his feet. His knees were
still trembling, and he needed but little incentive to take to his heels.

"I have not seen a colored or an Indian boy in years," went on the old
hermit. "If you are an honest boy let me take your hand."

He advanced, and with his knees knocking together Blumpo put out his hand
and looked the old man in the face.

The next instant the hermit gave a leap back in profound astonishment.

"Abraham! As sure as the sun shines! And I thought he was dead!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE HERMIT'S SECRET.

All three of the boys were much mystified by the old hermit's words.

"He must be a little off in his head," thought Harry.

"Who is Abraham?" asked Jerry.

"This is Abraham!" cried the hermit. "Are you not Abraham?" he went on to
Blumpo.

"I reckon not, sah. I'se jess plain Blumpo Brown."

"Blumpo Brown! Ha! how well I remember that name! You are indeed Abraham,
and I am your father!"

And the hermit caught Blumpo in his arms. It is needless to say the youth
was frightened and bewildered.

"Come to my cave and I will tell you all," went on the hermit, and he
dragged Blumpo along.

Jerry and Harry willingly followed. They found that the old man had quite
a comfortable place among the rocks. It was elaborately furnished, showing
that the hermit was well-to-do.

They all took seats on some skins thrown over rude couches. The hermit
made Blumpo sit close to him.

"My name is Daniel Brown," he began. "And you, Blumpo, are my only son.
Your full name is Blum-pou-la-hau,--the Indian for
boy-of-the-laughing-face,--for, you know, you have much Indian blood in
your veins."

"Dat's what folks said I had," said Blumpo.

"I thought you were dead--that you had been drowned. It was this drove me
to make a hermit of myself."

Then the old hermit went into many particulars, to which all listened wi