Now Miss Gordon knew the man only slightly. His name was Felix Gossart and his ten-acre place adjoined Mr. Jeffert’s evergreen farm. He had never seemed very friendly and less so now.
“Good morning, Mr. Gossart,” Miss Gordon said politely.
The man did not reply to the friendly greeting. He merely stared at the Brownies as they scrambled over the snowy rails of the fence.
“Trespassing on Mr. Jeffert’s property?” he asked and his voice was not pleasant.
“Indeed, we aren’t,” answered Miss Gordon. “Mr. Jeffert said we might hike through the woods.”
“Well, I wouldn’t do it again if I were you,” said Mr. Gossart, shifting the axe to the other shoulder. “Maybe you haven’t heard. Someone’s been cutting down trees in these parts. Wandering around careless like, you might run into unpleasant characters.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gossart. If we come this way again, we’ll be very careful.”
Miss Gordon said no more, but gathering the girls together, started off down the road.
“Can’t we go to the woods again?” Rosemary asked anxiously when they were well beyond Mr. Gossart’s hearing. “If we don’t we’ll never learn whether or not the birds use our feeding station.”
“When I talked to Mr. Jeffert this morning, he did not advise against going onto his property,” Miss Gordon said. “If we stay close to the road, I see no possible danger.”