“Let me go first, sis,” he said; “we don’t know what may be the matter.”
Peggy dutifully tiptoed along behind, as with hearts that beat somewhat faster than usual they made their way down the narrow path which led them into the deep gloom of the deeper woods. All at once Roy halted. They had arrived on the edge of a little clearing in the midst of which stood a tiny and roughly built hut with a big stone chimney at one end. Although the place was primitive it was scrupulously neat.
Painted white with green shutters, with a bright flower garden in front, it was a veritable picture of rural thrift.
The boy hesitated for an instant as they stood on the opposite edge of the cleared ground. There was no question but that they had reached the place whence the groans had proceeded. As they stood there the grim sounds began once more, after being hushed for an instant. Now, however, they took coherent form.
“Oh, help me! Help me!”
Roy was undetermined no longer. Directing Peggy to remain outside till he summoned her, he walked rapidly, and with a firm step, up the path leading to the hut, and entered. It was so dark inside that at first he could see nothing. But pretty soon he spied a huddled form in one corner.
“Oh, don’t hurt me! I’m only a harmless old man! I have no money,” cried the cringing figure, as Roy entered.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” said the boy kindly; “I want to help you.”
He now saw that the form in the corner was that of an old man with a silvery beard and long white hair. From a gash on his forehead blood was flowing, and the wound seemed to have been recently inflicted.
“What is the matter? What has happened?” asked Roy, gently, as he raised the old man to a chair into which he fell limply.