To this the boys said not a word.
“A picturesque, wooded place.”
“I can see your astonishment,” said the old man. “You had thought with the rest of them that I was killed in the duel with Aaron Burr. Ha! ha!” and the old man laughed as a disordered phonograph laughs. “Yes, you thought I was killed. But I am not killed—dangerously wounded, but not killed, and I crawled away out of their sight.”
Now Allan knew that the poor old fellow was crazy, but this did not make him less uneasy.
“Then you must be very old,” suggested Allan.
“One hundred and thirty one this year,” muttered the old man.
“The duel was in 1804, wasn’t it?” asked Owen.
The old man nodded. “You remember it, then?” he added with increased interest.
“No,” stammered Owen, “not exactly that—I remember reading of it.”