Something familiar about the manner in which the stranger advanced toward her attracted her attention.
"Looks like that man! It is he! The fellow who stopped the hay-wagon runaway!"
She was still frightened, but a trifle more at ease, since she recognized the man in the big slouch hat. "Whatever could have brought him here?" she asked herself. The next moment she was glad—glad that Cologne and Dorothy were out of reach.
"Oh, I'm not afraid of him," she thought. "Perhaps he knows I'm here——"
He was almost up to her. Yes, it was he—the same queer smile lurked about his face, and he had that indefinable air—was it attractive, or only different?
"Good morning, Maud Muller," he said doffing that unlimited hat. "I'm so glad to see you alone."
"Good morning," answered Tavia, "but I am not alone, I just ran away from my friends; they are over there."
"But not over here. It's all the same. I want to speak to you, and this is the best opportunity I could have wished for."
Tavia unconsciously picked up a stick. She felt queer, and he looked queer, so that altogether it was a very queer proceeding.
"I have news for you," the man resumed. "Is not your name Tavia Travers?"