“I think he’s making him,” she whispered.
And, sure enough, when Tommy returned he had the Guide by the hand. He was very thin and very tall and his hands had leafy fingers. His twig nose pointed straight ahead of him and his eyes were very sharp. Tommy’s sharp jack-knife had cut them deep into his head and the gash that served as a mouth was wide and smiling. Muffs slipped the hat over his head and it fitted exactly. Holding the Guide ahead of them, the children started off.
IN A BRAMBLE BUSH
Tommy walked beside Muffs in order to give directions although that was properly the work of the silent Guide. Mary trudged on behind as it was her turn to carry the basket of lunch. They had passed the apple orchard and were following the trail which might, if their play came true, lead to the Bramble Bush Man’s house. There couldn’t be a real Bramble Bush Man. At least the children couldn’t see exactly how a man could scratch his eyes out and then scratch them in again and still be wondrous wise. But they were looking for the impossible. The trail was narrow and crooked and held no end of mystery.
“Anything might happen,” Muffs said in a whisper.
It did seem that way. First they were in a patch of woods so thick they could hardly see the sunshine. Then there would be a grassy field; then woods again. And sometimes a rock that they could hide behind. These were the jolliest games of hide-and-seek that the children had ever played.
They had been in the deep woods for quite some time when Tommy stopped short.
“Whew!” he exclaimed. “This isn’t the path I found. See that hollow stump. I never saw that before.”