Jonas walked on until he came out of the woods, at the house where he had seen the boy cut wood. As he approached the place, he saw that the boy was there still; but there was a man with him. The man had a goad-stick in his hand.
"He is driving a team somewhere," said Jonas to himself. "I wonder where his oxen are."
A moment afterwards, Jonas came in sight of the oxen, which were in the road, having been hid from his view before, by the wood pile.
The man and the boy looked at Jonas, as he walked towards them. The man smiled a little, as if he knew Jonas; but Jonas thought that he had never seen him before.
"Well, Jonas," said the man, "did you find Mr. Woodman?"
"Yes, sir," replied Jonas. He wondered how the man happened to know his name.
"I'm glad of it," said he; "and you'd better make haste back. Rollo is almost tired of waiting for you."
"Oliver, you mean," said Jonas.
"No," said the man,—"Rollo; he said his name was Rollo."
"Rollo?" said Jonas; "his name is Oliver. I don't see what made him tell you that his name was Rollo."