ll-grown boys like
ourselves, used to all kinds of hard work, might prove an awkward
handful for one whose muscles had been rendered flabby by lack of
exercise.

At any rate, he quickly calmed down again, pretending to laugh at the
incident; but though he made some remark about "a real smart bird," I
guessed from the gleam in his little ferrety eyes that if he could lay
hands on Socrates, that aged scholar's chances of ever celebrating his
one hundredth anniversary would be slim indeed.

"Who's the thing belong to, anyhow?" asked John. "There's no one living
around here that I know of."

"He belongs to a man who lives somewhere up on this mountain," I
replied. "You've probably heard of him: Peter the Hermit."

"Him!" exclaimed Long John, looking quickly all around, as though he
feared the owner might make his appearance. "Well, I'm off. I've got to
get back to Sulphide to-night, so I'll dig out at once."

So saying, he picked up his long-handled shovel, and using it
upside-down as a walking-staff, away he went, striding over the snow at
a great pace; while Socrates, seeing him depart, very appropriately
called after him, "Good-bye, John."

CHAPTER VII

THE HERMIT'S WARNING

As it was now after midday, we concluded to eat our lunch before going
any further, so, sitting down on the rocks, we produced the bread and
cold bacon we had brought with us and prepared to refresh ourselves.
Observing this, Socrates, who had flown up into a tree when Long John
threatened him with the hatchet, now flipped down again and took up his
station beside us, having plainly no apprehension that we would do him
any harm, and doubtless thinking that if there was any food going he
might come in for a share.

I was just about to offer him a scrap of bacon, when the bird suddenly
gave a croak and flew off up the mountain. Naturally, we both looked up
to ascertain the reason for this sudden departure, when we were startled
to see a tall, bearded man with a long staff in his hands, skimming down
the snow-covered slope of the mountain towards us. One glance showed us
that it was our friend, the hermit, though how he could skim over the
snow like that without moving his feet was a puzzle to us, until, on
approaching to within twenty yards of where we sat, he stuck his staff
into the snow and checked his speed, when we perceived that he was
traveling on skis.

"How are you, boys?" he cried, shaking hands with us very heartily. "I'