"There's somebody knocking at the door."
Wilkinson half raised in bed.
"Who is that?"
A voice replied:
"We've lost the road. We want you to tell us the way to Dutch Henry's."
Wilkinson began to call the directions.
"We can't understand—"
"You can't miss the way."
"Come out and show us!"
The request was given in tones so sharp there could be no mistake. It was a command not a plea.