With this object in view, he quickly crossed
the square and inserted his tall frame into the narrow doorway, calling
out lustily for attention. So loudly did he shout that the multitude of
ancient swords and guns along the walls seemed to rattle in terror at
this sudden encroachment of the present.
"What is it?" demanded a sharp, angry voice at his elbow. He wheeled and
found himself looking into the wizened, parchment-like face of the
little old man, whose black eyes snapped viciously. "Do you think I am
deaf?"
"I didn't know you were here," gasped Truxton, forgetting to be
surprised by the other's English. "The place looked empty. Excuse me for
yelling."
"What do you want?"
"That broad--Say, you speak English, don't you?"
"Certainly," snapped the old man. "Why shouldn't I? I can't afford an
interpreter. You'll find plenty of English used here in Edelweiss since
the Americans and British came. They won't learn our language, so we
must learn theirs."
"You speak it quite as well as I do."
"Better, young man. You are an American." The sarcasm was not lost on
Truxton King, but he was not inclined to resent it. A twinkle had come
into the eyes of the ancient; the deep lines about his lips seemed
almost ready to crack into a smile.
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