“Some man—that,” he said, as he flashed the light beyond the pile of debris which partly concealed the face.
“Why, if it isn’t an old painting!” Nann ejaculated.
And that, indeed, was what it proved to be. Battered by its fall, the broken frame stood leaning against a partition.
“I believe its a portrait of that cruel old Colonel Woodbury himself,” Dories remarked. Then eagerly added, “I do wish we could find a picture of that sweet girl, his daughter. Ever since Gib told us her story I have thought of her as being as lovely as a princess. Though I don’t suppose a real princess is always beautiful.”
“I should say not! I’ve seen pictures of them that couldn’t hold a candle to Nann, here.” This was Dick’s blunt, boyish way of saying that he admired the fearless girl.
Gib, having found a heavy cane, was poking around in the piles of debris that bordered the partition and his exclamation of delight took the others to his side as rapidly as they could go.
“What have you found, old man?” Dick asked, eagerly peering at a heap of rubbish.
“Nuther picture, seems like, or leastwise I reckon it’s one.”
Gib busied himself tossing stones and fragments of plaster to one side, and when he could free it, he lifted a canvas which faced the wall and turned it so that light fell full upon it.
“Gee-whiliker, it’s yer princess all right, all right!” he averred. “Say, wasn’t she some beaut, though?”