dropped a handful of snow on to the fire. "Cut," he continued. "You
can go. Get out of this. Run and get your dinners." We went with him
out of the hut into the square. "See here," he continued, "don't you
go coming here. You don't know of this place--see? Don't you show your
little tracks in this part of the wood; this is a private house, this
is--trespassers will be prosecuted. Now run along and thank 'ee for
your company."

As Hugh began to squirm along the passage, I turned and shook hands
with the man. I thought it would be the polite thing to do to say
good-bye properly. "Will you tell me your name?" I asked.

"Haven't got a name," he answered gruffly. "None of your business if I
had." He saw that I was hurt by his rudeness, for his face changed:
"I'll tell you," he added quickly; "but don't you say it about
here. Gorsuch is my name--Marah Gorsuch."

"Marah," I said. "What a funny name!"

"Is it?" he said grimly: "It means bitter--bitter water, and I'm
bitter on the tongue, as you may find. Now cut."

"One thing more, Mr Gorsuch," I said, "be careful of your fires. They
can smell them outside when the wind blows down from the wood."

"Fires!" he exclaimed; "I don't light fires here except I've little
bleating schoolboys to tea. Cut and get your porridge. Here," he
called, as I went down on my hands and knees, "here's a keepsake for
you."