“Because I’m a fugitive—in mortal peril of my life!” answered the boy, his whole face beaming with fun. “You can’t think what a funk I was in when I heard you coming.”
Bertie was rather puzzled.
“I shan’t hurt you,” he said.
“Nor betray me?”
“No, of course not. I don’t know what you mean.”
Phil laughed merrily.
“Well, then, I’ll come out, and chance the rest. It’s jolly uncomfortable in there;” and the boy pushed his way out amid fresh showers of dew, and stood before Bertie all wet and dripping, his curly hair bright with sparkling drops, his merry eyes brimful of fun.
The little boy stared at him in great surprise.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’ve told you once—a fugitive, a despairing and desperate character—so beware! And pray who are you, if I may make so bold?”