CHAPTER XXII
WHO IS PORTUNUS?
About half-way to Swan, Master Nathaniel, having tethered his horse to a tree, was reclining drowsily under the shade of another. It was midday, and the further west he rode the warmer it grew; it was rather as if he were riding backward through the months.
Suddenly he was aroused by a dry little laugh, and looking round, he saw crouching beside him, an odd-looking old man, with very bright eyes.
"By my Great-aunt's rump, and who may you be?" enquired Master Nathaniel testily.
The old man shut his eyes, gulped several times, and replied:
"Who are you? Who is me?
Answer my riddle and come and see,"
and then he stamped impatiently, as if that had not been what he had wished to say.
"Some cracked old rustic, I suppose," thought Master Nathaniel, and closed his eyes; in the hopes that when the old fellow saw he was not inclined for conversation he would go away.