Simon opened his eyes, and saw a funny, little, old man standing over him, who kept one of his eyes shut all the time, and looked out of the other with the queerest twinkle in the world. He had a knotty stick in his hand, and was tapping Simon over the head with it.
"What do you want?" growled Simon.
With that the old man hit him another sharp blow over the head.
"Get up," he said, "and come with me, and I will show you where I live. I am one of the Garulies."
Simon got to his feet, partly because he was afraid of another blow from the cudgel, and partly because he had a very great desire to know something of the Garulies.
"Come along! come along!" said the queer little man, as he gave Simon another tap.
He took the road through the woods pasture, down under Swallow Hill, and then through the blackberry patch, until they came to the brook known as "Bee Tree Run." Here, just at the foot of a large sycamore, and among its roots, was fastened a curious boat, made of a large turtle shell turned upside down.
"Get in! get in!" squealed the little old Garuly.
"I am too large," said Simon; "that craft will sink if I step in."
In an instant the little man whirled round and hit him three tremendous raps over the head with his cudgel, shouting, or rather squeaking,