Not a word was uttered by him. The Professor turned to the boys. "He is demented, or has lost all knowledge of his condition or surroundings. Poor fellow!"
The Professor addressed him. He looked startled at the sound of a human voice, and as the voices continued, began to look inquiringly at one and then at the other. He was a man fully fifty years of age, strong, well built, but somewhat emaciated. His eyes had no luster, the beard was long and shaggy, and aside from the torn and almost unrecognizable trousers, the only article of clothing was an equally dilapidated shirt.
George grasped Harry, excitedly. "Where did he get that shirt? That is the one we used as our first signal flag, and which we lost five months ago." Such was indeed the case. The only thing in its torn and tattered condition, which enabled him to recognize it were the initials of George, which he had noticed.
Thus was one of the mysteries explained. Despite every attempt at conversation, not a word escaped his lips. The Professor took him by the arm, and led him to the house. He entered and looked around not particularly interested, but more in curiosity than otherwise.
"What do you suppose he has been living on, and where has he been staying?"
At the suggestion of the Professor, some food was brought, and placed before him. He gazed at it. A knife and fork were on the table. He reached for them slowly, and when he had grasped both began to eat ravenously. He finished without looking up, and when the last morsel was eaten stared about, and a faint smile appeared, which was the first facial change that had crossed his features since they met him.
He was conducted to a reclining chair, and such articles of clothing as they could find were brought out and laid before him. He gazed on them, and slowly picked up one after the other. His feet were bare, and appeared to have been scratched and torn, but they were hardened by contact with the earth. An old pair of shoes, the ones discarded by the Professor, when they turned out the first lot of shoes, was set before him.
He picked them up and mechanically put them on. "Now let us leave him alone for a while." They went out, closing the door, and Harry stole around to the small port which he had opened, and watched the stranger.
His demeanor did not change after they left; he simply glanced about the room. When his eyes fell on the table, he arose and cautiously approached, and suddenly seized the table knife, with just a slight change of countenance. This he attempted to secrete beneath his ragged shirt.