“If you are an American you’ll be doubly welcome here,” he called out; “but no matter where you came from, if you’re hungry we’ve got plenty and to spare. Step this way and join us!”
The man did not hesitate after that warm invitation, but hustled forward. They looked curiously at him, and no wonder, for he was apparently no ordinary individual. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and it could be seen that his arms were fairly covered with the most wonderful colored tattoo marks imaginable. Really it looked like the work of an artist in this line; and Bumpus, who had never gazed upon such a sight stared as though the other were a curiosity.
It turned out that this was just what he was, and Thad suspected it the first thing he discovered those tell-tale marks.
“You see,” said the stranger, as he joined the scouts, “I’m the wonderful tattooed man of the great circus and Wild West Show that has been exhibiting in Belgium this summer. We got caught when the war broke out so suddenly. Our boss told every one to look out for himself or herself, and with that the whole show went to smash. The last I saw of our Injuns they were being herded up by the authorities of the town where we separated. They were afraid they’d start on the warpath, and scalp everybody, I guess.”
“Sit down here on this log,” said Allan, “and we’ll help you to some coffee and whatever we’ve got. It’s lucky we cooked much more than we needed. I think Bumpus and Giraffe must have expected company, or else overrated their own appetites.”
“Bumpus and Giraffe sound good to me!” declared the tall stranger, as he looked with a smile at the two boys designated; “somehow hearing those names gives me a feeling that I’m still with the Big Show. But I want to tell you it’s a piece of great luck for me to meet up with you boys. To look for Americans over here is as bad as hunting a needle in a haystack.”
“Then you’ve been having a hard time, I take it?” remarked Thad, as he heaped a pan with food and turned it over to their unexpected guest.
“Hard!” echoed the other. “I’m thankful to be alive, and outside of a dungeon to-night. And what d’ye think it all comes from but my name.”
“What might that be?” asked Giraffe.
“The worst any poor man marooned in Belgium or France could own up to right now,” replied the other; “it’s Kaiser!”