"Well, I'll be--!" and then Truedale quietly slipped to the rear of
the cabin and to a low, sliding window through which he could peer,
unobserved. One glance transfixed him.
CHAPTER II
The furnishing of the room was bare and plain--a deal table, a couple of
wooden chairs, a broad comfortable couch, a cupboard with some
nondescript crockery, and a good-sized mirror in the space between the
front door and the window. Before this glass a strange figure was
walking to and fro, enjoying hugely its own remarkable reflection.
Truedale's bedraggled bath robe hung like a mantle from the shoulders of
the intruder--they were very straight, slim young shoulders; an old
ridiculous fez--an abomination of his freshman year, kept for
sentimental reasons--adorned the head of the small stranger and only
partly held in check the mass of shadowy hair that rippled from it and
around a mischievous face.
Surprise, then wonder, swayed Truedale. When he reached the wonder
stage, thought deserted him. He simply looked and kept on wondering.
Through this confusion, words presently reached him. The masquerader
within was bowing and scraping comically, and in a low, musical voice
said:
"How-de, Mister Outlander, sir! How-de? I saw your smoke a-curling way
back from home, sir, and I've come a-visiting 'long o' you, Mister
Outlander.
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