“Toss up a cent,” suggested the professor. “Make it heads right and tails left.”
They did so. The coin came down heads up, and Bob turned the machine to the right. It had not proceeded far on this road when, about a mile ahead, the travelers saw a couple of log cabins.
“Well, there’s shelter for to-night, at all events,” Jerry remarked, “and, I hope, supper as well. I’m getting a little tired of bacon and coffee.”
They found one of the cabins occupied by a negro, his wife, and seven children, the oldest a boy of sixteen and the youngest a little girl, just able to toddle.
“Good evening,” greeted the professor, “can we get supper and lodging anywhere about here?”
“I reckon I kin fix yo’ up on th’ eatin’ question, boss,” remarked the darkey as he stood in the cabin door as the auto drew up, “but I ’clare t’ goodness I can’t find no room t’ stable that there rip-snortin’ beast ye got.”
“We don’t expect you to take the auto in,” spoke Jerry. “If you give us beds for ourselves, or even a room to sleep in we’ll pay for it and glad to do it.”
“Land sakes, I’d like t’ ’blige yo’, deed ’n I would boss,” went on the negro, “but my cabin am jest crowded t’ th’ doah wif me an’ my fambily. Yo’ am welcome t’ suthin’ t’ eat, but land a’ massy whar I’se goin’ t’ have yo’ sleep hab got me cogitatin’.”
“What’s the matter with that other cabin?” asked Ned.
“What other cabin?” asked the negro, not turning to look in the direction of the second shack, about a quarter of a mile down the road.