76 MARTIN RATTLER.

In half-an-hour they drew near to the light, which
they found proceeded from the window of a small
cottage or hut.

“Whist, Martin,” whispered Barney, as they ap-
proached the hut on tiptoe; “there may be savages
into it, an’ there’s no sayin’ what sort o’ craturs
they are in them parts.”

When about fifty yards distant, they could see
through the open window into the room where the
light burned; and what they beheld there was well
calculated to fill them with surprise. On a rude
wooden chair, at a rough unpainted table, a man was
seated, with his head resting on his hand and his
eyes fixed intently on a book. Owing to the dis-
tance, and the few leaves and branches that inter-
vened between them and the hut, they could not
observe him very distinctly. But it was evident that
he was a large and strong man, a little past the prime
of life. The hair of his head and beard was black
and bushy, and streaked with silver-gray. His face
was massive, and of a dark olive complexion, with an
expression of sadness on it, strangely mingled with

stern gravity. His broad shoulders—and, indeed, his

 

whole person—were enveloped in the coarse folds cf
a long gown or robe, gathered in at the waist with a

broad band of leather.