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with the utmost delight, as his muzzle was composed entirely of squared
yellowed teeth. With every step of his back left foot, the mule trampled
the hanging facial hair of its rider, for, yes, the chin- and cheek-locks of
the old-timer were that long. This trampling was the provocation of the
cries. Behind them, attached to the mule by a rope, was the creaking
wagon, filled with what looked, to Lizbeth, to be random trinkets.
The concealed girl blinked rapidly at the newcomer. He seems
harmless enough; the mule seems to be the mean one. But, to be safe,
1will remain hidden until the team passes by. Fate, though, waggled a
finger at Lizbeth, for he was not in agreement with her plan.
The old man, between exclamations, commanded his ve-
hicle to stop: "Yow! Stop, mule! Eeek! Cease, beast! Bliiyeee! Halt, ye
moose!" This last jibe jabbed between the animal's ribs and hit a weak
Spot, as he stopped, turned his head to look at his companion, and
frowned. "You know I did not mean it;' sighed the fossil, "it's just, 1
thought 1heard something. A rustling. Coming from ...ยป He pointed his
finger before him and slowly rotated his arm clockwise, until the digit
was aimed at Lizbeths forehead. "Ah-ha!"
Lizbeth did not know what to do. She had been found out.
Should she bolt? Surely she could outrun the stranger. But the old man's
twinkling eyes, the pink globes that were his cheeks, and certainly the
elegant ivory beard, woven at its dragging point with leaves and twigs,
compelled her. So up she stood, sure that she had not made the old
man's rustle, and asked, "Do you mean me?"
"Me?"
"No, me!"
"Of course 1mean me!"
"But do you mean me?"
"You know that 1do."
"Well, then." Lizbeth high-stepped from the bushes, and
as she did so, a cranberry-colored bird took flight from nearby. Oh.
Perhaps 'twas he that made the rustling. After a moment, she stood only
a few feet from the travelers. She extended her hand and offered her
name.
"I am Edgewater Rogers;' claimed the man. The mule grunted.
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