O'Neill, the guide, was listening attentively. "Tall man, was he, with a scar over his left eye, lightish hair, warm-colored, not red exactly, but light colored? I reckon it was Jo Poker."
"Jo Poker? What a funny name," said Nan.
"That isn't his real name and I reckon nobody does know just what that is. He's a kind of shady character. There's several stories about him; some say he cheated at cards and that's why he goes by the name of poker, a sort of jeer at him, you see. Some says he killed a man and that he's an escaped convict. Others says it's only because he's always poking about and looking around at wild critturs and things that makes folks call him Jo Poker. Nobody knows just the right of it. He's a peaceable sort of chap, and is a right good worker when he wants to be. Sometimes he hires out for a while but most of the time he lives in a little hut here in these mountains. He don't seem to care much for humans and always lights out if he sees anybody coming. You must 'a' come on him suddent, sissy." He turned to Mary Lee.
"I did," she told him. "He looked so surprised when he saw me, but he certainly was good and kind."
"You struck him all right," said O'Neill. "There ain't nobody could tell you more about beastes than him, and when he knew you liked 'em, you got on the right side of him at oncet."
"He must be rather an interesting character," said Miss Helen. "How does he make his living?"
"Oh, he cuts a few shingles now and then and sells 'em, and sometimes he'll hire out for a while, but he's particular who he works for. He don't require much and it's easy to get."
"I wish we could see him," said Nan reflectively. "He seems like some sort of hermit. I don't believe he ever killed any one. He wouldn't be so kind to animals if he was wicked."
O'Neill gave a little amused laugh. "Bless you, miss, there's lots of men do things in a fit of rage. That don't prevent 'em from bein' soft-hearted as a woman when things goes easy."
"Could we go to the waterfall?" asked Miss Helen. "Is it too far?"