"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's 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 down stream.
"And what sort of a fellow is your outlaw, Imp?"
"Well, I 'spected he'd be awfull' fierce an' want to hold me for ransom, but he didn't; he's quite quiet, for an outlaw, with grey hair and big eyes, an' eats an awful lot."
"So you saved him your breakfast and dinner, did you?"