The conversation stopped here, as Bess was sent out on an errand by her mother. Gerald and the tourist devoted themselves to eating, and did full justice to the plain but wholesome meal.
“I feel better,” said Noel Brooke, as he rose from the table.
“Folks generally do after eatin’,” observed Mrs. Peters philosophically. “I reckon if you’re through you’d better go out. You’re only in the way here.”
“Mrs. Peters is delightfully unconventional,” remarked Mr. Brooke as in obedience to the plain hint given by their landlady they went out and resumed their seats under a large branching oak tree in the rear of the cabin.
“She has given us a good supper. That’ll pay for her unconventional manners. I wonder what sort of a person her ‘man’ is?”
The question was no sooner suggested than answered. A tall, powerfully built man, clad in buckskin and carrying a rifle, followed by two young men, slighter in figure, but quite as tall, strode from the woods, and halted when they caught sight of Gerald and his companion.
“Who are you, strangers?” asked the old man suspiciously.
“We are travelers,” answered Noel Brooke promptly, “and at present we are guests of Mrs. Peters. Are you Mr. Peters?”
“I run that cabin, if that is what you mean.”
“So I supposed. Then you are my landlord.”