"I think I have seen Morgan about here," I said.
"Oh, yes! He's a woodsman and a hunter-our Nimrod
of the lake."
"A good sort, very likely!"
"I dare say. He has sometimes brought me ducks
during the season."
"To be sure! They shoot ducks at night,-these
Hoosier hunters,-so I hear!"
He laughed as he shook himself into his greatcoat.
"That's possible, though unsportsmanlike. But we
don't have to look a gift mallard in the eye."
We laughed together. I found that it was easy to
laugh with him.
"By the way, I forgot to get Pickering's address from
Morgan. If you happen to have it-"
"With pleasure," I said. "Alexis Building, Broadway,
New York."
"Good! That's easy to remember," he said, smiling
and turning up his coat collar. "Don't forget me;
I'm quartered in a hermit's cell back of the chapel, and
I believe we can find many matters of interest to talk
about."
"I'm confident of it," I said, glad of the sympathy
and cheer that seemed to emanate from his stalwart
figure.
I threw on my overcoat and walked to the gate with
him, and saw him hurry toward the village with long
strides.