"Grandpa Foxy," he said, and then he went along toward the Elk cabin.
I was just going to start off to our own cabin when I heard footsteps. It seemed as if someone might be stealing along, and first I thought it might be Skinny. I was glad it wasn't, because I wanted him to stay in with his own fellows now and not bother with me.
It was Bert Winton.
"H'lo, Blakeley," he said, in that quiet kind of a way he has; "I thought everybody was in bed."
"I see you're not in bed," I told him, kind of grouchy.
He said, "Me? Oh, no, I always prowl around after fox trails and things. I got on one fox trail, didn't I? Bet the kid won't sleep to-night, hey?"
"I bet I won't sleep either," I said; "and that's why I'm here."
"Kind of like the kid, don't you?" he said.
I said, "Yes, and that's more than you can say."
He just looked at me a minute and then he sat down on the stone alongside of me, and he broke a stick off a bush and began marking on the ground with it. Then he said, kind of as if he didn't take much interest—he said, "Actions speak louder than words; did you ever hear that?"