The old man nodded to the boys and then stared past them at the river.
“I suppose he’s a hermit,” whispered McConnell.
“He does look rather lonesome,” said Owen.
“And savage,” said Allan.
“If he didn’t look so savage,” McConnell suggested, “I’d like to take him sitting there at the door.”
Probably Owen and Allan had been thinking the same thing. Yet when they stood looking out over the river they heard a rustle in the tall grass and the queer old man had come close behind them.
“Cameras?” asked the old man in a strange voice.
“Yes,” answered Allan.
“Take me,” said the old man. “You will find nothing in the river so interesting as I am,” and he smiled a smile so extraordinary that the boys unanimously grew uneasy.
“You are polite boys,” said the old man, “and you do not say ‘who are you?’ Nevertheless I will tell you. I am Alexander Hamilton.”