"Wallace!"
"Uncle George!"
The three members of the family broke into three simultaneous cries of surprise. The next instant Mrs. St. John was in the arms of the tall man, who supported her with one hand and with the other greeted her.
"Hello, Burt! How's your grip?" he cried as he released the couple and seized the hand of their son.
"Ouch!" yelled the boy, his grin changing to expression of pain. "I ain't no wooden man!"
"Where on earth did you come from?" exclaimed Mr. St. John, taking his brother-in-law's big coat and handing it to the astonished maid. "We haven't heard from you for a year!"
"Give me something to eat, Tom, and I'll talk later." As the hawk-faced man sat down, Burt gazed at him admiringly. George William Wallace, his uncle, was the boy's greatest hero. Famous under the name of "George William" for his books on little-traveled countries, he was known widely at every end of the world. He had crossed the Turkestan deserts, helped to survey the Cape to Cairo railway, led armies in China and South America, and explored the recesses of the Sahara. In his brief intervals of relaxation he lived with the St. Johns, having no home of his own.
As he gazed, Burt half wished that his own face was not so square and angular and more like that of his uncle. Mr. Wallace was thin but of very large frame. His close-cropped hair revealed a high forehead, beneath which two intensely black eyes. A long, curving nose gave his face itshawk-like effect, and thin lips and strong chin completed the likeness to some great bird of prey.
"What are you doing with that fur overcoat in June, George?" asked Mrs. St. John with smile.
"Keeping warm!" shot back the explorer as he pushed away his plate. "This beastly rain goes to the bone, Etta. I landed only yesterday and got the first train up here after leaving my cases at the Explorers' Club."