“Come to my cave and I will tell you all,” went on the hermit, and he dragged Blumpo along.
Jerry and Harry willingly followed. They found that the old man had quite a comfortable place among the rocks. It was elaborately furnished, showing that the hermit was well-to-do.
They all took seats on some skins thrown over rude couches. The hermit made Blumpo sit close to him.
“My name is Daniel Brown,” he began. “And you, Blumpo, are my only son. Your full name is Blum-pou-la-hau,—the Indian for boy-of-the-laughing-face,—for, you know, you have much Indian blood in your veins.”
“Dat’s what folks said I had,” said Blumpo.
“I thought you were dead—that you had been drowned. It was this drove me to make a hermit of myself.”
Then the old hermit went into many particulars, to which all listened with great interest.
Blumpo could scarcely believe his ears. His face began to expand, and a smile broke out on it, the like of which had never before been seen. He was a homeless waif no longer. He had found a father.
Jerry and Harry talked to the old hermit for an hour and more. They found him peculiar in his ideas, but with a warm heart.
Before they retired for the night Daniel Brown came to the conclusion to give up his dwelling on the top of the mountain.