himself.”

He waited for some time after this again, but as there was no sound within the barn save for the occasional stamp of the horses, he finally walked quietly around to the door and entered. A swift glance showed him some horse equipment hanging at one side. He took down a bridle and gave an appraising look at the mounts.

“This one looks the best,” said he, softly; and with that he slipped into the stall of a powerful looking gray and bitted him with calm expertness. He had backed the animal[55] out and was adjusting a saddle, when a queer, squeaking voice, from directly over his head, sounded in his ears.

[55]

“I thought you’d get the right one, master! He’s a rare goer, he is!”

Nat started. His eyes went swiftly in the direction of the voice. First he caught sight of a comical little pair of legs astride one of the rafters, then of a huge head, topped with a shock of stiff, upstanding hair.

“There ain’t a nag in these parts that’ll get you to the lower ferry quicker than that one will,” continued the queer voice, assuringly. “Always trust a flea-bitten gray to have courage and bottom.”

Nat continued to hold the horse by the bridle with one hand; with the other he shaded his eyes from the light and examined the speaker with interest. He saw a big, moon-like face—a large mouth that grinned down at him good-naturedly, showing two rows of strong, white teeth. The creature’s head was that of a man, but the body was no larger than that of a ten-year-old boy.

The sudden discovery of this unusual creature was in itself enough to startle a[56] person with weak nerves. But Nat Brewster was not troubled with anything of the sort. It was the words alone that troubled him; the odd-looking imp on the rafter seemed able to read his secret purpose.

[56]

“Who are you?” inquired the mountain boy, quietly, after a pause.

The dwarf grinned more widely than ever.

“Don’t you know?” asked he. “Have you been at the Cooper place for two weeks and not heard of me?”

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