“It is very close now,” she said. “Wait until I take a look.”
The travelers halted, while the woman crept softly forward. She peered through the brush into a sort of clearing, and apparently seeing that everything was safe, she motioned for the others to advance.
They did so, and, a moment later emerged from the woods into a place where many trees had been cut down. In the centre of this space was a small log cabin, and toward it the woman pointed.
“There is his hut,” she said. “Come on, I will lead the way.”
She advanced with great caution, as though she feared to disturb some one. Closer and closer to the door she went, the others close behind her.
“He never locks it, so we can go right in,” she said.
By this time she was near enough to grasp the latch. She raised it, and was about to enter, when the door suddenly swung back, and the old hermit himself, stepping out, stood before the astonished travelers.
“There he is! There he is! There is the murderer!” cried the woman, pointing her finger at the hermit.
The old man did not appear greatly surprised. He looked from the woman to the boys and the professor, and remarked:
“To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?”