MAROONED
Scarcely had they stepped out of the train when they were approached by a shabby, unshaven man, who had evidently also just alighted. They had not seen him on the train. He took off an old felt hat when he addressed them, which gave an unpleasant impression of fear and surveillance. Perhaps Pee-wee did not notice this but it seemed to jar his friends. Pee-wee did, however, notice that the man’s hair was very short; it seemed all bristly, as if it had been cropped and was just starting to grow out. Besides this, his nose was broken across the middle, which did not exactly improve his looks.
“Do yez know where Skimper’s place is?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“That’s the Snailsdale House,” Pee-wee said; “it’s the third house up the road.”
The man seemed to hesitate as if he did not know whether to ask more or not; he seemed rather bewildered. Then he backed away, with that same air of uncertainty and subservience. Perhaps Ray and Fuller would not have noticed this if he had not been attired so shabbily.
“Probably a tramp,” said Ray.
Pee-wee was too disgruntled to say anything.
The three adventurers strode up the lawn, Pee-wee looking very sheepish. As for Fuller Bullson, he looked as if he were about to demand the surrender of a fortress. It was evening and the old ladies had retreated before the legion host of dew and dampness. But one solitary figure sat in a rocking chair on the porch. It reminded Pee-wee of his first meeting with Hope and of the adventurous episode of the rocking chair. Her little feet looked very dainty as she pushed the porch with her toes, and she seemed very lonesome.
“Oh, it’s Walter,” she ejaculated, appearing not to notice his two friends.
“These are my two new pals, Fuller Bullson and Raysor Rackette,” Pee-wee said, “and we’ve come to stay here a week, because we got to because we kind of drew lots to come here.”