The strange being was smiling now.
“O!” he continued, “I—happy.”
It was soon evident to Tom that this wild man was, like himself, a Briton, but must have been so long a recluse that he had forgotten his own language. This became more apparent every minute. Tom’s voice and talking seemed to recall words and phrases to him, though for weeks after their meeting the man could not finish any long word.
Great indeed was Brandy’s surprise and terror when Tom walked into the hut in company with the very apparition they had both seen, and who had clawed up the grave.
“Come, Brandy, boy, don’t stand and stare. This is an Englishman. He was only afraid of us because he thought we were Spanish. Get us supper quick, and get something nice while you are about it.”
Brandy took one more look at the wild man, then laughing heartily held out his hand. This was cordially shaken, and thus friendly relations between all three were speedily established. Nay, but between all four, I should say; for Black Tom soon jumped on the stranger’s knee and gave vent to his pleasure in a song.
“But,” said Brandy, “I take you for de debil at fust, sah. But now I’se mistaken. Aha! O, golly! dere is one big load tumble off dis chile’s liber. Aha! I not turn pale wid fear no more.”
And away bustled Brandy to get the supper ready.
The wild man ate what was placed before him almost ravenously, though with little regard to table etiquette. Indeed, Tom half thought at one time he wanted to take the food into a corner quietly and devour it as a tiger does his prey.
He spoke scarcely a word all the time supper was being partaken of, but he was evidently far from at ease. The wind had risen now and was moaning drearily round the hut, and he started often and listened as if he heard voices in it. When Brandy had cleared away he spoke at last.