“Oh, there’s always something of some sort here, isn’t there, Jeff?”
“Was last time I was here,” answered the colored man. “We always left some stuff in the tin canisters and in some glass jars, so that the mice and rats and squirrels couldn’t get at ’em.”
Two lamps were lit, and then they lighted the fire in the big chimneyplace. Soon the flames were roaring merrily, and then the lads began to take off some of their clothing. Randy was glad to disrobe and wrap himself in a blanket from one of the beds.
“I can’t help but think how close I was to drowning,” he whispered to Fred. “It makes me shiver every time I think of it!”
“Don’t mention it!” was the reply. “We’ve got to be awfully careful after this, Randy.”
“You bet!”
As soon as his guests had been made as comfortable as circumstances permitted in the living room, Gif went out into the kitchen to learn what Jeff was doing. He found the colored man building a fire in an old-fashioned cookstove which had been in use in the bungalow for many years.
“Ain’t very much to eat, I’ll tell you that,” said the colored man. “Got a little coffee and sugar and some canned corn and some sardines.”
“Well, I brought a big loaf of bread along and some crackers from that box we had,” answered Gif. “We’ll have to make out somehow. It’s better than nothing. I’m thinking the storm will clear away by morning, and if it does we can get out early and rescue that stuff we left behind.”
“Ain’t no way to do,” grumbled Jeff. “We ought to’ve stayed down to Mr. Mumbleton’s place. If we’d have done that there wouldn’t have been no accident nor nothin’.”