From out of the hut shuffled an old woman. She was a wrinkled and hideous old hag, brown as a seasoned meerschaum pipe and in her mouth was a reeking corn cob.
Her feet were bare, and altogether she was a most repulsive old crone. She saw Roy and Peggy almost as soon as they saw her. For an instant she stood looking at them and then raised her voice in a sort of shrill shriek.
Instantly from the woods around several men appeared—wild-looking, bearded fellows, each of whom carried a rifle.
"What you alls want hyar?" demanded one who seemed to be the leader.
"We were just taking a walk," explained Roy.
"Wa'al, we all don't like strangers particlar."
"So it would seem," rejoined Roy, with a bold voice, although his heart was beating rather fast.
"How'd you alls get hyar?" was the next question from the inquisitor.
"We flew here," rejoined Roy truthfully.
But the man's face grew black with wrath.