“You have excellent observation, Porcupine,” praised Nat.
“It does not do to keep one’s eyes shut in such times as these,” answered the dwarf, wisely. “And, again, I shouldn’t get any credit for it, because I was just idling away the time until you rode up and had no notion of anything being wrong.”
“Ah,” said Nat, with increased interest, “there is something wrong then?”
“Again I must say that I don’t know,” and the speaker shook his head. “It only seemed queer to me; and what followed looked a great deal more so. But sit down here,” added the dwarf, indicating a place where some bushes would screen Nat from the inn windows. “It would be just as well, maybe, if you were not seen talking to me.”
Nat did as directed; then the speaker once more took up his story:
“After a few moments the gypsy-looking man walked over, threw off his pack, sat down and began to fan himself with his hat. Then I saw that he was tattooed upon the back of his hands, and looking carefully I saw that on one was a ship and on the other the Union Jack.
“‘Do you belong hereabouts?’ says he.
“‘Not very far away,’ I answers him.
“‘I’ve come a long distance,’ says he, ‘to meet some friends. Has any one gone into the inn lately?’
“‘The landlady,’ I told him.