"Wonder if he'd have been any happier if he'd found it," murmured Roy, philosophically.

"If he'd been a woman he would," said Peggy.

"Would what? Have found it?"

"No, you goose, but have been perfectly happy if he had attained perpetual youth. Why, I think----Why, whatever was that?"

The girl broke off short in her laughing remarks and an expression of startled astonishment crept over her features.

"Why, it's some one groaning," cried Roy, after a brief period of listening.

"Yes. Some one in pain, too. It's off this way. Come on, Roy, let us find out what is the matter."

Without a thought of personal danger, but with all her warm girlish sympathy aroused, plucky Peggy plunged off on to a path, from a spot along which it appeared the injured person must be groaning. But Roy caught her arm and pulled her back while he stepped in front of her.

"Let me go first, sis," he said; "we don't know what may be the matter."

Peggy dutifully tiptoed along behind, as with hearts that beat somewhat faster than usual they made their way down the narrow path which led them into the deep gloom of the deeper woods. All at once Roy halted. They had arrived on the edge of a little clearing in the midst of which stood a tiny and roughly built hut with a big stone chimney at one end. Although the place was primitive it was scrupulously neat.

Painted white with green shutters, with a bright flower garden in front, it was a veritable picture of rural thrift.

The boy hesitated for an instant as they stood on the opposite edge of the cleared ground. There was no question but that they had reached the place whence the groans had proceeded. As they stood there the grim sounds began once more, after being hushed for an instant. Now, however, they took coherent form.

"Oh, help me! Help me!"

Roy was undetermined no longer. Directing Peggy to remain outside till he summoned her, he walked rapidly, and with a firm step, up the path leading to the hut, and entered. It was so dark inside that at first he could see nothing. But pretty soon he spied a huddled form in one corner.

"Oh, don't hurt me! I'm only a harmless old man! I have no money," cried the cringing figure, as Roy entered.

"I don't want to hurt you," said the boy kindly; "I want to help you."

He now saw that the form in the corner was that of an old man with a silvery beard and long white hair. From a gash on his forehead blood was flowing, and the wound seemed to have been recently inflicted.

"What is the matter? What has happened?" asked Roy, gently, as he raised the old man to a chair into which he fell limply.

"Water! water!" he cried, feebly.

Roy hastened outside saying to himself as he went:

"This is a case for Peggy."

Summoning her he hastily related what had occurred and the warm-hearted girl, with many exclamations of pity, hastened to the wounded man's side.

"Get me some water quick, Roy," she exclaimed, tearing a long strip from her linen petticoat to serve as a bandage. Outside the hut, Roy soon found a spring, back of a rickety stable in which the old man had a horse and a ramshackle buggy.

When he returned with the water the poor old fellow took a long draught from a cup Peggy held to his lips and the girl then deftly washed and bandaged his wound. This done the venerable old man seemed to rally, and sitting up in his chair thanked his young friends warmly. Roy, in the meantime, had been looking about the hut and saw that it was furnished in plain, but tidy style. Over the great open fireplace, at one end, hung a big picture. Evidently the canvas was many years old. It was the portrait of a fine, self-reliant looking young man in early manhood. His blue eyes gazed confidently out from the picture and a smile of seeming satisfaction quivered about his lips.

"I'll bet that's a fellow who has got on in the world," thought Roy to himself as he scanned the capable, strong features.

"Ah," said the old man, observing the lad's interest in the painting, "that picture is a relic of old, old days. It is a portrait of my brother James. He----But I must tell you how I came to be in the sad condition in which you found me. Have you a comfortable chair, miss? Yes, very well, then I will tell you what happened this afternoon in this hut, and will then relate to you something of my own story for I was not always a hermit and an outcast."

CHAPTER XV.

THE HERMIT OF THE WOODS.

"My name is Peter Bell," began the old man, "and many years ago I was like any other happy, care-free young man, who is the son of well-to-do parents. I had a brother named James Bell, who was much younger than me.

We were very fond of each other and inseparable.

"Our home was on the Long Island coast and we often went boating. One day when we were out in my boat a storm came up and she capsized. I tried to save my brother who was a poor swimmer. But in the midst of my efforts the bulwark of the wave-tossed boat struck my head and rendered me insensible. It seems, however, I must have clung to the boat, for when I came to myself I had almost been blown ash.o.r.e, and, striking out, I soon reached it.

"But to my horror I soon saw that people shunned me. In some way the story got about that I had saved myself at the expense of my brother's life. Such stories are always readily credited among the majority of people in a small town and the tale spread like wildfire with exaggerations. Driven half wild by the general contempt which I met on every side I left home one night, and having a sum of money in my own right I decided to live the life of a recluse.

"I recollected this spot to which I had come on hunting expeditions in brighter days. Not long after, grief over my brother's death resulted in my mother's life coming to a close, and shortly afterward my father's demise occurred.

"They left but little, but I managed to secure that portrait of my brother you see hanging up there and a few bits of favorite furniture a.s.sociated with happier times.

"I have lived here ever since and have become reconciled to my fate. From time to time I used to advertise for news of my brother, offering rewards, but long ago I stopped that, and have no doubt that he perished in the storm, although for a time I comforted myself by thinking that he might, by some strange chance, have been saved.

"In some way a rumor has spread through the countryside that I have much wealth hidden here, and this afternoon four masked men entered the hut and when I protested, in reply to their demands, that I had no money, they struck me down and searched the house. Then cursing me for a fraud and an impostor because they found no gold they left, leaving me to my fate."

"You have no idea who the men were?" asked Roy who, like Peggy, had listened with close attention to the old man's story.

"Yes, I think they were young men of bad reputation from a neighboring village; however, I am not sure. I am certain that I recollected hearing the voice of one of them when I was in the market in that village some time ago."

"Oh, then, you do go into town sometimes?" asked Roy.

"Oh, yes," rejoined the hermit, "but no more than I can help. I have long since departed from the ways of the world and the habitations of men. But I gather herbs in the woods for miles about and sell them to folks in the villages."

"I suppose that is why you have the horse and cart?" put in Peggy, who had been gazing out of the window and had noticed the tumbledown barn.

"Yes," rejoined the old man. "I am not as active as I was once and my old bones will not carry me as far as they used to. So I drive old Dobbin when I have a journey of any length to make."

The hermit would not hear of any help being summoned for him. He said that he was in no danger of a second attack, as the search of his little property had been thorough and had resulted in the rascals, who had invaded his haunts, getting nothing for their pains. Refusing some refreshment the old man offered, the young aviators soon after left the hut, promising to call in again in a few days and give the hermit an opportunity to see the aeroplane in which he was much interested. The old man asked them many questions about the races of the next day and seemed interested in hearing the details.

The Golden b.u.t.terfly they found just as they had left her, and clambering on board they were soon winging their way back to Acatonick where, as you may imagine, they had an interesting story of the incidents of the afternoon to relate to Miss Prescott that evening.

"I never saw such children for adventures in all my born days," she declared, "but I have a letter here which I must show you. I am afraid it means that we shall have to leave the old home."

She drew an envelope from her handbag which lay on a table of the hotel room and handed it to Roy. On opening it, he found that it contained a formal notice from the Sandy Bay Bank, that unless the acc.u.mulated interest and other moneys owing them were paid up within a week that foreclosure proceedings would be taken. The boy gave a disconsolate whistle as he finished reading the letter aloud and handed it back.

He had hardly done so when there came a rap on the door of the room. "I wonder who that can be so late?" thought Roy, getting up and going to the door.

A bellboy stood there with a note.

"A messenger just brought this from the aviation grounds," he said. "Any answer?"