“He lives on the mountain?” said Hugh; “that must be very far away.”
“No, not on the mountain,” corrected Carl, “beyond it. On the mountain there lives a—a—another man.”
“What sort of a man?” inquired Hugh, caught by the little boy’s change of tone.
“Oh, a strange man. He is half Indian; people call him a pirate; his name is Jake.”
“Has he no other name?” asked Hugh; “is every one so afraid of him as you are?”
“His whole name is Half-Breed Jake, and, yes, every one is afraid of him except just my mother and her brother Oscar and maybe Dick Edmonds and the dog Nicholas. Every one else.”
“Does he live out there on the mountain all alone?” Hugh inquired.
“Yes, he will not let any one live near him. He will not let any one shoot in his woods or fish in his streams or paddle a canoe on his end of the lake.”
“And are they all his?” In spite of being so
