Bess tugged at Cora's elbow. "Don't go too far. I am afraid of that man," she said in a whisper.
"Were you drawing as we came up?" Cora asked the stranger. "This is an ideal spot for sketching."
"Yes, I was drawing," he replied.
"Couldn't we see your picture?" asked Cora. "I do so love an outline."
"Oh, indeed it is not worth looking at. I must show you something when I have what will be worth while. This is only a bare idea."
"Well," said Cora starting off through the wood, "I must look for a cabin, or something like it. I have particular business with Jim Peters."
"But you will only hurt your feet miss," objected the man. "Allow me to show you the island," and he bowed again. "Such wild swamp flowers I have never seen. It is the everglades, and well worth the short journey."
There was something about his insistent civility that betokened a set purpose, and since Ben (what a wonder Ben was) had told Cora that a man named Jones "hung out" with Jim Peters, Cora instantly guessed that this was the man, and that he was determined to keep her away from the shack. The situation gave zest to her purpose. Bess was fairly quaking as Cora could see, but what danger could there be in insisting upon finding that shack?
"I have only a short time to be out," objected Cora, "and perhaps some other time I will come to see your everglade. Come, Bess, I see a path this way, and I fancy if we follow it we will find an end to the path," she concluded.
"But may I not have the pleasure of your name?" the man called after her. "Perhaps we might meet—"