The sounds came nearer and nearer and nearer until whoever made them was right outside. Then the opening was darkened, and we could see a big head and shoulders that were as broad as the hole. The head stopped and peered around to make sure nobody was there. We were way in the corner; it was pretty dark, and the canvas was in front of us. So there wasn’t much chance of his seeing us or finding us. He mumbled something to himself and crept way in. I almost hollered right out. He was the biggest man I ever saw, and wild-looking. We couldn’t see his face very well, but he was ragged, and his hair was long and frowsy—and we were alone with him in a little cave, and nobody to help within a couple of miles.
He crawled in on all fours and began fumbling around on the other side of the cave where we had kept the bread. I felt Mark heave himself up, and then saw him creep out of the blankets and across the floor until he was between the door and the wild man. It took more nerve than I had, but, though he was as pale as a sheet, he kept right ahead. He stood still, kind of doubtful, getting up his courage to do something and figuring out just what he was going to do. I felt around for something heavy I could use if worse came to worst.
Mark opened his mouth once, but not a sound came. He shut it again and felt of his throat; then he made his voice sound as deep and heavy as he could and sort of barked: “Hey! W-what you do-doin’ here?”
The wild man jumped so he cracked his head against the roof and turned around rubbing it. For the first time we got a good look at his face when the light from outside struck it fair. I expected he was going to leap right at Mark till I saw his face; and then, somehow, I felt sorry for him and not afraid a bit, for it was the most scared face I ever saw—yes, sir, scared! He fairly cowered against the wall.
“Don’t hurt Sammy. Poor Sammy. Sammy’s hungry,” he whimpered.
Mark and I both giggled, we were so relieved. Mark spoke to him again like he was stern and displeased.
“What you stealin’ our stuff for? Hey?”
“Sammy’s hungry,” said the wild man again. “Don’t hurt Sammy.”
He turned his great, round, simple face to Mark, his big eyes, blue as a baby’s, full of trouble. He smiled like a child will that has been bad and thinks it can get out of it by being specially friendly.
“Come outside,” orders Mark, “where there’s more room.”