It wouldn’t, as an examination proved, for when the handle had broken off it had taken a generous piece of the skillet with it. June studied the situation hard, cupping his chin in his hands and gazing at the scuffed toes of his shoes. “I reckon,” he said finally, “we jus’ got to eat that coffee. ’Sides,” he continued, “how we goin’ to boil it, anyway, without no fire?”
“We could build a fire outside,” answered Wayne. “For that matter, we could build one in the stove. I reckon the smoke wouldn’t bother us much seeing half our windows are open! But we’ve got to have a coffee-pot or a pan or something. We surely were chumps, June,” he ended sadly.
“How come we didn’ think of that, Mas’ Wayne?”
“There’s something else we didn’t think of,” replied the other. “We didn’t think of anything to drink it out of, either!”
“I ain’ botherin’ so much about that,” said June. “Jus’ you cook me that coffee an’ see! But we surely has got to have somethin’ to——” He stopped abruptly. “How much money we got, Mas’ Wayne?” he asked eagerly.
“Five cents. You can’t get a coffee-pot for five cents, I reckon.”
“Give me he,” said June, jumping up. “I’ll go on back yonder an’ ask that man in the tin factory to sell me a five-cent kettle or somethin’, Mas’ Wayne. He’s a nice man an’ I reckon when I tell him we can’ get no supper without he sells it to us he goin’ do it. Jus’ you wait, Mas’ Wayne.”
“All right,” laughed Wayne. “And ask him to throw in two tin cups and a candle and a blanket or two and——”
“No, sir, I ain’ goin’ to ask no imposs’bilities,” replied June, showing his teeth in a broad grin, “but I certainly am goin’ to projeck mightily aroun’ that tin pile. I reckon there’s a heap more pieces like I done fetched if I can fin’ ’em.”