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Even Herbert Watrous, accustomed as he was to the delicacies and refinements of a city home, admitted that there was something about the meal which, washed down with clear, pure water, had a flavor surpassing anything of the kind he had ever known. The causes why it tasted thus I have already stated.
"All wild animals are afraid of fire: let's each take a torch to keep him off." The others eagerly caught up a blazing brand and strode forward with more confidence than ever. Herbert Watrous, who was sensible that he had not made such an exhibition before the others as he desired, placed himself at the head of the little company.
Among the pupils was Herbert Watrous, a spruce young gentleman from the city, who dressed better than the others, and who threw out hints about the sparring lessons he had taken at home, and his wish that he might soon have a chance to show his playmates how easily he could vanquish an opponent, much larger than himself, by reason of his "science."
"Quick! quick! the bear has got me sure! Hurry boys, hurry, for pity's sake!" The next instant Sam and Nick came upon an extraordinary scene. Herbert Watrous had been set upon by a huge bear, and, throwing aside his Creedmoor, had run with might and main for a large stump, behind which he took refuge. Had he climbed a sapling, he would have been safe, but he was too flustered to think of that.
In my own behalf, madam, I must tell you that you are an exact counterpart of someone I know of Mrs. Beeman Watrous, a very good friend of mine. Pardon me once more, but may I ask if you are related to Mrs. Beeman Watrous? Her cousin perhaps? It isn't humanly possible that two persons should look so much alike and not be related?" "I don't think I ever heard of the lady," stated Mrs.
Propbridge did not succeed in getting her hand free from his grasp until he had uttered the final "well." "You have the advantage of me," she said. "I do not know you. I am sure I never saw you before." At this his sudden shift from cordiality to a look half incredulous, half embarrassed was almost comic. "What?" he demanded, falling back a pace. "Surely this is Mrs. Beeman Watrous of Wilmington?
Why, really, as long ago as when I was at the Charter House School, old William Watrous, who was master there then, he had been at the school himself, when he and Ezekiel Cheever were boys, told me that a point of interrogation was a little crooked thing that asks questions."
Herbert Watrous, when he separated from his companions on that balmy afternoon in Indian summer, assumed a loftiness of bearing which was far from genuine. The fact was, he felt dissatisfied with himself, or rather with the rifle which his indulgent father had presented to him only a few weeks before.
Nicholas Ribsam proceeded to show Master Herbert Watrous what he meant to do about it. Paying no heed to the formidable attitude of the city youth, Nick rushed straight upon him, and embracing him about the waist so as to pinion his arms, he threw him flat upon the ground with great emphasis. Then, while Herbert lay on his face, vainly struggling to rise, Nick sat down heavily on his back.
"And you've never seen the mysterious stranger since?" "There was nothing mysterious about him, I tell you. He was merely interesting." "Anyhow, you've never seen him since?" "No." "Nor had any word from him other than that telephone talk you say you had with him?" "No." "Did you ever make any inquiries with a view to finding out whether there was such a person as this Mrs. Beeman Watrous?"
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