It was bigger than my fist, and most
choked me to death, till I let it out.")
Yes, that was what hurt him, and presently he let it out, as you say, and
had a good, hard cry. Then gradually he went off into a sort of doze.
Soon he felt something strike him on the head.
"Wake up! wake up!"
Simon opened his eyes, and saw a funny, little, old man standing over
him, who kept one of his eyes shut all the time, and looked out of the
other with the queerest twinkle in the world. He had a knotty stick in
his hand, and was tapping Simon over the head with it.
"What do you want?" growled Simon.
With that the old man hit him another sharp blow over the head.
"Get up," he said, "and come with me, and I will show you where I live. I
am one of the Garulies."
Simon got to his feet, partly because he was afraid of another blow from
the cudgel, and partly because he had a very great desire to know
something of the Garulies.
"Come along! come along!" said the queer little man, as he gave Simon
another tap.
He took the road through the woods pasture, down under Swallow Hill, and
then through the blackberry patch, until they came to the brook known as
"Bee Tree Run." Here, just at the foot of a large sycamore, and among its
roots, was fastened a curious boat, made of a large turtle shell turned
upside down.
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