“It does look kind of creepy around here,” he remarked in an undertone; “but put on a bold front, John, we are going to stay, just to prove to ourselves that we are not afraid.”
“I would a great deal rather camp out,” John frankly confessed, “but you are the captain, Ree. I can stand it if you can.”
A skulking fellow of about thirty years, none the handsomer for having lost nearly all his front teeth, came to help put up their horse when the boys had made their wants known inside the tavern. No unusual thing occurred, however, and the young travelers had shaken off the gloomy feelings which the lonely place inspired by the time their supper was ready. As they were by themselves at the table, a man whom Ree had not seen before approached and took a chair nearby, tilting back against the wall and calmly surveying them.
John kicked Ree’s shins under the table. It was not, perhaps, a polite way of imparting the information that this was the fellow he had seen peering out of the barn, but Ree understood perfectly.
Having eyed the boys for a minute or two, the stranger said, in a gruff, indifferent tone:
“Good evenin’.”
“Good evening, sir,” spoke Ree, and John’s voice repeated the words like an echo.
“Traveled far?” growled the stranger.
“Far enough for one day,” Ree answered, little inclined to engage in conversation with the man, for the fellow’s appearance was far from favorable. The sneaking glance of his eyes, his unshaved face and uncouth dress, half civilized, half barbarian, gave him an air of lawlessness, though except for these things he might have been considered handsome.
For a minute the stranger did not speak, and John suppressed a laugh as he saw with what cool unconcern Ree returned the fellow’s stare whenever he looked at them.