“Oh, Morgan!” I said, sharply; “if I had had something to eat I would have shared it.”
“Isn’t much, but you shall have some if you like, sir. Sarah here won’t touch it.”
He took a flat brass box out of his pocket, opened it, and held it to me.
“Tobacco!” I said, looking with disgust at the black, twisted leaf.
“Yes, sir, ’bacco keeps off the hunger.”
“I’d rather have the hunger,” I said; and he shut the box with a snap.
Restless as Pomp now, and growing more and more miserable, I climbed to where my father was sitting watching one break among the trees in the direction of the settlement, and he turned to me with a smile.
“Tired and hungry?” he said. “Yes, I know. But patience, my boy, patience. Our lives have been spared, and help may come at any moment.”
“But do you think we shall escape?”
“Why not?” he said, calmly. “We were in much greater peril last night.”