XXVII
THE HERMIT OF QUASI
THE newcomer was a man of fifty or fifty-five years of age. He wasslender, but rather with the slenderness of the red Indian than withthat suggestive of weakness. Indeed, the boys observed that his musclesseemed to be developed out of proportion to his frame, as if he hadbeen intended by nature for a scholar and had made an athlete ofhimself instead.
There was not an ounce of unnecessary fat upon his person, and yet hegave no sign of being underfed. Instead his flesh had the peculiarhardness of the frontiersman’s who eats meat largely in excess of otherfoods.
A little strip across the upper part of his forehead, which showed ashe stood there with his hat removed, suggested that his complexionhad once been fair, but that exposure had tanned it to the color of asaddle.
His costume was an odd one, but it was made of the best of materials,now somewhat worn, but fit still to hold their own in comparison withfar newer garments of cheaper quality. Perhaps they were aided in thisby the fact that they had evidently been made for him by some tailorwho knew how to make clothes set upon their wearer as if they were apart of him.
Yet his dress was perfectly simple. He wore a sort of Norfolk jacketof silk corduroy—a cloth well nigh as durable as sole leather—withbreeches of the same, buttoned at and below the knee, and covered atbottom with close-fitting calf-skin leggings of the kind that groomsand dandy horsemen affect.
The hat he held in his hand, as he addressed the company that hadcourteously risen to receive him, was an exceedingly limp felt affair,soft to the head, light in weight and capable of assuming any shape itswearer might choose to give it. His shoes were Indian moccasins.
No sign of linen appeared anywhere about his person, but just above thetop button of his jacket a bit of gray flannel shirt showed in colorharmony with his other garments.
“Good evening, young gentlemen,” he said; “I trust I do not intrude,and if I do so it shall not be for long. My name is Rudolf Dunbar. MayI ask if you young gentlemen are the rescuers I have been hoping tosee during the three or four weeks that I have been marooned on thispeninsula which nobody seems ever to visit?”
“We are here to rescue you if you so desire,” answered Larry, “but weset out with no such purpose. We were on our way here to fish, hunt,live in the open air and be happy in natural ways for a time. Wecaught sight of your signal of distress and hurried ourselves as muchas possible, fearing that your distress might be extreme. As we foundyour camp showing no signs of starvation or illness, and could not findyou, we set to work to establish ourselves for a prolonged stay hereand wait for you to return. It seemed the only thing to do under thecircumstances.”
“Quite right! Quite right! and I thank you for your kindly impulse. Butyou should have taken possession of my camp, making it your own—atleast until you could establish yourselves more to your liking. I don’tknow, though—my camp is bare of everything, so that you’re better offas you are.”
As he paused, Larry introduced himself and his comrades by name, andoffered the stranger the hospitality of their camp, inviting himespecially to sit down and share their supper.
He accepted the invitation, and after a little Larry said to him:
“May I ask the nature of your distress here, and how pressing it is? Weare ready, of course, to take you to the village over yonder, ten or adozen miles away, at any time you like. From there you can go anywhereyou please.”
“Thank you very much. My distress is quite over now. Indeed, I am notaccustomed to let circumstances distress me overmuch. I found myselfmarooned here, and naturally I wanted to establish communication withthe mainland again—or the possibility of such communication. But ifit had been necessary I could have remained here for a year in faircontentment. Long experience has taught me how to reconcile myself withmy surroundings, whatever they may be, and game and fish are plentifulhere. May I ask how long you young gentlemen have planned to remainhere?”
“Three or four weeks, probably,” answered Larry. “But as I said before,we’ll set you ashore on the mainland at any time you like.”
“Thank you very much. But if it will be quite agreeable to you, I’llremain here as long as you do. I haven’t finished my work here, and theplace is extremely favorable for my business. If my presence is in anyway annoying—”
“Oh, not at all. We shall build a comfortable shelter to-morrow, andwe’ll be glad to have you for our guest. As you see, we’re digging awell, and we’ll have good sweet water by morning.”
“That is very wise. I should have dug one myself if I had had any sortof implement to dig with, but I have none.”
“And so you’ve had to get on with the rather repulsive water from thespring down there?”
“Yes, and no. I have used that water, but I distil it first. Yousee, in my peculiar business, I must wander in all sorts of places,wholesome and unwholesome, and it is often impossible to find goodwater to drink. So for years past I have always carried a littledistilling apparatus of my own devising with me. It is very small andvery light, and, of course, when I have to depend upon it for a watersupply, I must use water very sparingly. I think I must bid you goodevening now, as I did not sleep at all last night. I will see you inthe morning.”
“We’ll expect you to join us at breakfast,” said Larry.
“It will give me great pleasure to do so. Good night.”
With that he nimbly tripped away, leaving the boys to wonder who andwhat he was, and especially what the “business” was that he had notyet finished at Quasi. Cal interrupted the chatter presently, saying:
“We’ve annexed a riddle, and you’re wasting time trying to guess itout. Nobody ever did guess the answer to a riddle. Let’s get to workand finish the well.”
The boys set to work, of course, but they did not cease to speculateconcerning the stranger. Even after the well was finished and when theyshould all have been asleep they could not drive the subject from theirminds.
“I wonder how he got here, anyhow,” said Tom, after all the othersubjects of wonder had been discussed to no purpose. “He has no boatand he couldn’t have got here without one.”
“What I wonder,” said Dick, “is why and how his ‘business’ hascompelled him to wander in out-of-the-way places, as he says he has.”
“_I_ am wondering,” said Cal, sleepily, “when you fellows will stoptalking and let me go to sleep. You can’t find out anything bywondering and chattering. The enigma will read itself to us very soon.”
“Do you mean he’ll tell us his story?” asked Tom.
“Yes, of course.”
“Why do you think he’ll do that?”
“He can’t possibly help it. When a man lives alone for so long as hehas done, he must talk about himself. It’s the only thing he knows, andthe only thing that seems to him interesting.”
“There’s a better reason than that,” said Larry.
“What is it?”
“Why, that he is obviously a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn’t think ofcoming here to remain indefinitely as our guest without letting us knowwho and what he is and all the rest of it.”
“_Finis!_” said Cal.
Silence followed, and soon the little company was dreaming of queerlydressed marooners carrying flags union down.