“Ye didn’t get this, although ye’ve spoiled the party at the Corners’ tavern,” he shouted at the wolves. “I’ll give ye some music to dance to, ye jolly varmints.”
A jolly old person himself seemed the refugee, for, without more ado, as if rather enjoying his strange dilemma than otherwise, he began playing a quick, merry tune on his violin.
“Hello!”
As the strains of melody died away, Will shouted the word to the musician.
The latter started and stared all around him.
“Curious,” he muttered; “I knew music tamed animals, but to make ’em speak! Why, it’s some one inside the cabin,” he cried, in surprise, looking down as Will shouted up to him again. “Who are you?”
“Two boys driven here by the storm and the wolves.”
“Well, well, if this ain’t a night of adventures my name ain’t Jabez Brown,” muttered the stranger. “Catch the fiddle, youngsters, and don’t let it drop, for it’s my bread and butter. I’m coming down.”
He lowered the violin and followed it nimbly, staring curiously at his young companions in distress.