88 MARTIN RATTLER.

my mustaches is gitin’ mighty long, for I’ve been two
weeks already without a shave.”

Martin laughed heartily at the grave, anxious ex-
pression of his comyrade’s face. “Never mind, Barney,”
he said, “a beard and moustache will improve you
vastly. Besides, they will be a great protection
against mosquitoes ; for you are such a hairy monster,
that when they grow nothing of your face will be
exposed except your eyes and cheek-bones. And
now,” continued Martin, climbing into his hammock
again and addressing the hermit, “since you won’t
allow me to go out a-hunting to-day, I would like
very much if you would tell me something more
about this strange country.”

“ An’ maybe,” suggested Barney modestly, “ ye won’t
object to tell us something about yersilf—how you
came for to live in this quare, solitary kind of a
way.”

The hermit looked gravely from one to the other,
and stroked his beard. Drawing his rude chair to-
wards the door of the hut, he folded his arms, and
crossed his legs, and gazed dreamily forth upon the
rich landscape. Then, glancing again at his guests,
he said slowly, “ Yes, I will do what you ask—TI will
tell you my story.”

“An’ if I might make so bould as to inquire,” said