“Clues be ——!” It is sad to relate that the Pilot of Timber Town was about to use a strong expression, which only the presence of his daughter prevented. “Come out of that room there,” he roared. “Come, an’ show yourself.”
There was a heavy tread in the passage, and presently there entered the room a very shabby figure of a man. A ruddy beard obscured his face; his hair badly needed cutting; his boots were dirty and much worn; his hands bore marks of hard work, but his eyes were bright, and the colour of his cheek was healthy, and for all the noise he made as he walked there was strength in his movements and elasticity in his steps.
Without a word of introduction, he held out his hand to Miss Summerhayes, who took it frankly.
Captain Sartoris had risen to his feet.
“How d’y do, sir,” he said, as he shook hands. “I hope I see you well, sir. Have you come far, or do you live close handy?”
“I’ve come a matter of twenty miles or so to-day,” said the tall stranger.
“Farming in the bush, I suppose,” said Sartoris. “Very nice occupation, farming, I should think.” He closely eyed the ragged man. “Or perhaps you fell down a precipice of jagged stones which tore you considerable. Anyhow, I’m glad I see you well, sir, very glad I see you well.”
There was a rumbling noise like the echo of distant thunder reverberating through the hills. Rose and Sartoris almost simultaneously fixed their eyes upon the Pilot.
Summerhayes’s huge person was heaving with suppressed merriment, his face was red, and his mouth was shut tight lest he should explode with laughter. But when he saw the two pairs of bewildered eyes staring at him, he burst into a laugh such as made the wooden walls of the house quiver.
Sartoris stood, regarding the Pilot as though he trembled for his friend’s senses; and a look of alarm showed itself in Rose’s face.