ared:

"Oi'd loike ter punch yer head fer yez, ye ould haythen! It's mesilf
thot's got nerve enough fer thot!"

This awakened Fay, who looked about in a wondering manner with her big,
blue eyes, and then half sobbed:

"Where is my mamma? I was jes' finkin' I was wiz her, and she was divin'
me somefin' dood to eat. I's awful hundry!"

In the twinkling of an eye, Old Rocks changed his manner. His pipe
disappeared, and he was on his feet, saying, softly:

"Don't you go to cryin', leetle gal. You shell have something to eat in
abaout two shakes, an' I'll see thet you finds yer mother all right.
Ye're a little angel, an' thet yar's jest what ye are!"

Straightway there was a bustle in the camp. Frank sat on the ground and
entertained Fay, while Old Rocks prepared supper. The child was given
some bread, and she proved that she was "awsul hundry" by the way she
ate it.

There was not a person in the camp who was not hungry, and that supper
was well relished.

Fay was questioned closely, but no one succeeded in obtaining much more
information than Frank had already received.

When she had eaten till she was satisfied, Old Rocks tried to coax her
to him, but she crept into Frank's arms and cuddled close to him,
whispering:

"I likes you the bestest."

So Frank held her, and sang lullaby songs in a beautiful baritone voice,
while the blue shadows settled over the valley and night came on. Long
after she was sound asleep he held her and sang on, while the others
listened.

Beyond the limits of the camp was a man who seemed enraptured by the
songs, whose eyes were wet with tears, and whose heart was torn by the
emotions which surged upward from his lonely soul.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE HERMIT.

At last little Fay was placed within the tent on the softest bed that
could be prepared for her.

"In ther mornin'," said Old Rocks, "I'll hunt up her mamma."

The fire glowed pleasantly, being replenished now and then by Barney.

Professor Scotch occupied the hammock, Frank stretched himself at full
length on the ground, and the guide sat with his back against a tree,
still pulling away at the black pipe, his constant companion. He had
smoked so much that his flesh seemed cured, like that of a ham.

At heart Old Rocks was tender as a child, but he had a way of
spluttering and growling that made him seem grouty and cross-grained. He
seemed to take real satisfaction in picking a quarrel with any one.

Professor