There was no sign of one, at any rate, and the storm did not encourage efforts at exploration. “Perhaps if I give a few yells it will bring somebody,” thought Roberts.
He reflected that it was as likely to bring a wildcat as anything else, but he determined to risk the effort. He had scarcely opened his mouth, however, before his shout was answered; and at the same moment his ear was caught by the sound of a vehicle behind him.
He waited anxiously. He heard the carriage come to a stop and then a couple of men walking about. They came toward the shed, and he found himself confronted by two dark forms, heavily wrapped as a protection against the storm.
“Bien venu, monsieur,” remarked one of the strangers. He extended his hand, and Roberts, supposing that that might be the custom of the country, put out his own and exchanged greetings.
“Monsieur est arrivé?” continued the other. “Un très longue voyage!”
Roberts’s reply to that was only a melancholy shake of his head. “What in the world did I study German for?” he groaned to himself.
“Vous ne comprenez pas?” continued the mysterious Frenchman.
A vigorous shake of the head was the American’s only reply. “Don’t you speak English?”
The only result was likewise a negative shaking of the head, and the American gave a groan.
“I want a hotel!” he exclaimed. “Can you tell me where to go? What in the world am I going to do?”