"And your uncle—I haven't seen any thing of him."
"He is in the woods at work."
A sudden suspicion entered the head of Crockett.
"What is his name?"
"Bungslager."
"Ah! I see'd him in the woods—the jolliest Dutchman I ever sot eyes on. When do you expect—"
"Doonder and blitzen!"
Turning their heads, the two saw the very man of whom they were speaking, standing in the door. Short, fat, sturdy, with his round, moon-like face lit up by a pair of round eyes that were the embodiment of wonder and amazement.
"What dis mean, eh? Vot hash somepody peen doin', eh?"
"You have visitors, uncle."