Joel Runnell halted, but did not retreat. The shuffling of several pairs of feet had not escaped his sharp ears, and now those ears told him that it was not Ike Slosson who was speaking, but somebody who was trying, in a crude manner, to imitate the hermit.
“I say, go away!” came in the same voice. “I want no strangers here.”
“Whose place is this?” asked old Runnell, calmly.
“It is my place, and I want you to go away, or I’ll set the dog on you.”
This reply made Joel Runnell smile to himself, for he knew very well that Ike Slosson despised dogs and would never have one near him.
“Who are you?”
“Never mind who I am. I want you to go away.”
“Won’t you sell me a supper?”
“No. I have hardly enough for myself.”
“I’ll pay you well.”