“My dear, his writing is not ordinary writing. He can neither read nor write as you think of it. His letters to me are written in another way. He tells me what he has found each day with some kind of rude drawing or with some device of his own.”
“Please show us some of them!” begged all four of the guests.
“I am going to let you guess what he meant.” He took from his desk in the corner a packet of large envelopes. “I leave with my friend enough addressed and stamped envelopes to run him until I return, and all he has to do is put in his letter and seal it and drop it in the box at Bear Hollow, our post office. Sometimes he draws me a picture and sometimes he just sends me something he has found. What do you think he intended to convey by this?”
On a sheet of paper were drawn many stars of various kinds and sizes, and down in the corner was what was certainly meant for an axe.
“Clear night and going coon hunting, I think,” said Skeeter solemnly.
“No!” cried Lucy and Lil in a breath. “Those are meant for snow flakes! It has begun to snow!”
“Right you are! Good girls, go up head! And how about the axe, since it is not meant to signify coon hunting?”
“It is going to be cold,” suggested the practical Frank, “and he must go to work and lay in wood before the snow gets deep.”
“Fine! I am glad to see there are others who can interpret my poor Tom Tit’s letters. Now this is the one I received the next day.”
It was evidently meant for a deep snow. The roof of a house and a few bare branches were shown but from the chimney a column of smoke ascended and in that smoke was plainly drawn a grin: a mouth with teeth.