"Ah! and what is he like?" I inquired.
"Oh, just like an outlaw—only funny, you know, an' most awfull' hungry. Are all outlaws always so very hungry, Uncle Dick?"
"I believe they generally are, Imp. And he looks 'funny,' you say?"
"Yes; I mean his clothes are funny—all over marks like little crosses, only they aren't crosses."
"Like this?" I inquired; and picking up a piece of stick I drew a broad-arrow upon the path.
"Yes, just like that!" cried the Imp in a tone of amazement "How did you know? You're awfull' clever, Uncle Dick!"
"And he is in the old boat-house, is he?" I said, as I picked up an armful of packages. "'Lead on, MacDuff!'"
"Mind that parcel, please, Uncle Dick; it's the one I dropped an' lost the sausage out of—there one trying to escape now!"
Having reduced the recalcitrant sausage to a due sense of law and order, we proceeded toward the old boat-house—a dismal, dismantled affair, some half mile or so downstream.
"And what sort of a fellow is your outlaw, Imp?"