Old Rocks stirred uneasily.
"I don't like it," he muttered, speaking to himself.
"Don't like what?" asked Frank, who felt a foreboding of some coming catastrophe.
"This yare stillness. Why, thar ain't even an owl hootin'."
"What do you think it means?"
"Dunno; but it means somethin'. Keep yer eyes an' ears open, an' be ready fer what may come."
Little Fay had ceased her sobbing, and the silence was finally broken by her voice:
"Who's doin' to tate me to my mamma?"
Then the Hermit was heard trying to comfort and reassure her.
"Dog my cats ef I wouldn't like ter smoke!" muttered Old Rocks; "but I'll allow thet it w'u'dn't do ter light a match hyar."