“I—go—now,” he said with some hesitation, “to the woods.”
“No, no, no!” cried Tom. “My dear friend, you are safe here. Yonder on a bed of grass you shall sleep. Nothing shall hurt you. To-morrow, or rather to-day—for it is late—we will talk.”
And the strange wild man extended a sleepy hand to Tom, smoothed the cat—a touch of nature not lost on Tom—and went and threw himself on his bed, and almost immediately went sound asleep.
Before Brandy retired he advanced furtively and half fearfully to his master, and pointing to the recumbent figure, “Marster,” he said, “he safe—puffikly safe? And he not de debil—you is sure? Den I sleep. All same, I pray some mo’.”
Both Brandy and Tom slept late. When they awoke they found the wild man’s couch deserted. But he had not fled; he was outside lying under a bush playing with the cat; and when Tom proposed an adjournment to the lake for the purpose of ablution and a swim, he joyfully assented.
Tom was perfectly astonished at the wild man’s prowess in the water. He had all the strength and agility of a seal.
After breakfast Tom and he went off for a walk in the woods. They went not anywhere near the orange grove to-day. They passed over the hill where the outlook station was.
“I see you often here,” said Tom’s companion.
“I wish you had revealed yourself sooner.”
“I was afraid. Say, will you come to my house?”