“There ain’t much here to eat,” the landlord said, as he motioned his guests to a settle in the chimney corner. “My wife died an’ I quit keepin’ a tavern. I’ll git ye what I kin.”
The two boys he thus ushered in did not sit down, but stood before the blaze to allow their clothes to dry; the one who had remained in the wagon while the other went to the door, turning about after a minute or two and stirring the fire till it burned more brightly. He was seventeen years old or thereabout, more slender than his companion and not so tall. His brown hair grew long, and about his blue eyes there was a twinkle of merriment, as he said: “Wood is cheap; we may as well have enough fire to do some good.”
“Right you are, young man,” spoke one of the two strangers still sitting in the semi-darkness. “It’s a nasty night.”
“Right you are,” said the lad, still stirring the fire, adopting the stranger’s own words.
One of the two men arose and stepping up to the blaze seated himself on the settle. He was a villainous looking fellow, his curly black hair cut short, his nose very large, red and sharp pointed, his chin unnaturally prominent, his eyes small, black, and deep-set, marks of smallpox adding further to make his face an unpleasant one. His age was not less than forty-five years.
So disagreeable, indeed, did the two boys find this man’s appearance that instinctively both looked more closely to see what his companion was like. They beheld a man ten years younger than the other, though his hair was turning gray, and his hardened leather-like skin made him seem older than he was. He had fairly honest eyes, however, though he turned them away and looked steadily in another direction when he found that he was observed.
“I was just tellin’ my friends here about Ichabod Nesbit bein’ killed, when you chaps come along,” said the landlord a few minutes later, as he came bringing in some cold meat and a loaf of bread, which he placed on the table. Then asking his young guests to sit down and help themselves, which they proceeded to do, he went on:
“I rec’lect that you boys was sort o’ interested in Nesbit, an’ I heard that it was you two that brought the news East of how he was killed.”
“Yes,” said the older of the two lads in a disinterested way, while the other gave him a quiet pinch under the table.
“Killed by an Indian, you said, didn’t you?” put in the villainous looking man.