When he awakes it is daylight, and the sun is shining; peeping out from his cover, Cocky discovers he is far away from the city. He has been an unbooked passenger by a goods train which has travelled all night and carried him while he slept into the heart of the country.
Luckily, the train happens to be stationary at a lonely bush siding, and Cocky makes his way [[344]]out of the truck and away into the scrub without being discovered. Hurrying away from the direction of the railway siding, Cocky finds himself near sundown on a narrow pathway leading over a range of high hills into a deep valley without trees, and where stands a solitary hut. An old man, much bent in form, and whose hair and beard looked as if they had not been shorn since he was born, stood at the door and gazed at our hero very curiously.
“Please could you give me a morsel to eat?” said poor Cocky, halting, faint and tired.
“Hum! You had better go farther if you fare worse,” answered the old man.
“I can’t go any farther,” said the boy. “I’m done up completely. Pray let me stay here to-night,” he pleaded.
“Hum! Rum-fuddle-em-fee! Very well. What can you do?” questioned the old fellow, his eyes glinting and glowering upon poor Cocky in a most remarkable manner, like a cat’s eyes seen in the dark.
“Do?” repeated the lad boldly. “Oh, I’ll do anything if you will give me some food and find me somewhere to sleep.”
“Bunkum Geezer,” muttered the toothless old fellow in reply. “You shall have all you want, [[345]]but you must do my bidding; otherwise you shall not leave this valley alive. Do you hear?”
Cocky was desperate with all a lad’s gnawing hunger, so he answered, “All right. Trot out the tucker.”
Close by the hut stood a magnificent fir-tree, whose branches formed a canopy impervious to dew or rain. Beneath it stood a table already spread with dainty food. With a wave of his hand the old man pointed this out to Cocky, and said,—