CHAPTER II.

A SLEEPY VILLAGE AND A FUSSY OLD MAN.


In the village of Ulmata there was just enough of life to picture the
dreamy indolence of man. Rest was its complexion, and freedom from all
marks of care its most pleasing aspect.

Old Sawyer was so demonstrably gratified to have a companion for his
nephew that he invited DeGolyer to take a room in his house, and
DeGolyer gratefully accepted this kindness. Young Sawyer was delighted
when the household had thus been arranged, and with many small
confidences and unstudied graces of boyish friendship, he kept his
guest in the refreshing atmosphere of welcome. And in the main the
uncle was agreeable and courteous, but there were times when he flew
out of his orbit of goodfellowship.

Once he came puffing into the room where DeGolyer was writing, and
blusteringly flounced upon a sofa. He remained quiet for a few
moments, and then he blew so strong a spout of annoyance that DeGolyer
turned to him and asked:

"Has anything gone wrong?"

The old fellow's eyes bulged out as if he were straining under a heavy
load. "Yes," he puffed, "the devil's gone wrong."