At last they all sat down to the usual corn-bread, coffee, and fried ham, with the addition of a great dish of stewed oysters.
The boys had eaten some of the oysters, which are found in vast beds in parts of the Indian River, but had not found them much to their liking. They seemed fresher and more insipid than those to which they had been accustomed. But these were cooked so nicely that they ate them with great delight, and, altogether, they made the best meal they had had since leaving home.
Mr. Pitman was very nervous during the meal, and thought his guests would never be done eating. He did not begrudge them their food, but he was full of anxiety lest the panther should come and go before they had made themselves ready to receive his visit.
When Phœnix and Chap had eaten their last mouthful, and Adam had drained the third cup of coffee, Mr. Pitman put back his chair, and the party arose. Adam greatly desired to smoke his evening pipe, but to this his host decidedly objected.
“There won’t be time,” he said, “and besides, the critter might smell the smoke. Better wait till we’re through with this business, and then you can smoke all you like.”
Adam good-naturedly assented to this arrangement, and the male members of the party went outside, while Mrs. Pitman and daughters were cautioned to keep in the house, and shut the doors and lower windows, for if the panther should be brought to bay, he might think the house a good place of refuge.
Mr. Pitman took upon himself the whole plan of arrangement. He first examined the arms of the party. He himself had a rifle.
One of the guns taken from the Maggie was a breech-loading rifle, and it was loaded, but there were no extra cartridges to fit it, and only one shot could be fired from it. This was given to Adam.
The other gun, belonging to the two young men, was a small shot-gun, one barrel of which had been discharged that morning by Chap. Both barrels were now loaded with number two shot, but Mr. Pitman declared the weapon altogether unserviceable for work of the kind expected.
“It won’t carry far enough,” he said, “and the shot will scatter. A painter wouldn’t take into no account—a gun like that.”