He had heard that Phil was a very sensible, straightforward fellow, who frequently did business for his uncle. Such a boy could certainly give him some points which would be of service in the future.
The revolutions in the man’s mind, as well as his onward progress, were suddenly arrested by the appearance of a tall person, who stepped out from behind a tree, and who, holding a large stick in front of him in his right hand, cried, peremptorily,—
“Halt!”
The man halted as promptly as if he had run against a fence.
Chap stood squarely up before him, his legs spread out a little, and his knotty stick resting carelessly on his left arm.
“Well,” said he, “here you are again.”
When Chap spoke, the man knew him to be a boy, and supposed him to be Phil, of whom he had not taken any particular notice on the evening he saw him.
“Yes,” he answered, “I am here again. How are you to-night?”
“Now, look here!” said Chap. “I rather suspected you’d be along again, and I came out to have a word with you. I want you to understand one thing. This is a free and open country, and when a man has anything to say he ought to come out boldly and say it in broad daylight, and not glide in under cover of the night.”
The man was about to speak here, but Chap did not allow himself to be interrupted, and went on,—