George pointed silently toward the corner in which the pots and pans were stowed. Bob looked and saw there about half a peck of corn in the ear. Parched corn was all the old man had to eat now that his bacon was gone. What his dogs lived on was a mystery. Bob took another look around the cheerless hovel, thought of the comfortable home he had so recklessly left, and asked himself if this was the wild, free and glorious life that he had wasted so many hours in dreaming about.
As there were no chairs in the cabin the boys were obliged to hold their clothes in front of the fire in order to dry them. While they were thus engaged they talked over their plans, and made up their minds just what they would do—or rather George laid the plans and Bob agreed to them. They conversed in low tones, so as not to disturb the sleeping passenger, and kept their eyes directed toward his corner more than half the time, hoping that he would turn over, and give them a view of his face, for they wanted to see who he was; but he did not move more than two or three times while they were in the cabin, although Bob was sure that he once detected him in the act of turning his head slightly as if to hear what they were saying. If George had seen it his suspicions might have been aroused.
After Bob had wrung the water out of his clothes, he did not neglect to overhaul the contents of his money-belt. He had examined them while he and George were changing their wet clothing in the latter’s stateroom on board the steamer, and then they were found to be all right, the precautions he had taken having proved amply sufficient to protect the bills from injury. Of course some of them were wet, but they were not defaced. He had then, in accordance with George’s advice, put all the bills into his belt; and after wrapping the oiled silk around them he had further protected them by inclosing them in a roll of thick brown paper. This made rather a bulky package to go into his belt, but the bills were effectually protected, as he found when he examined them by the light of the trapper’s fire.
“It is lucky that you are so wealthy, Bob,” said the young pilot, after they had satisfied themselves that the money was not injured, “for if we were strapped I don’t know what we should do. Mr. Black pays me twenty-five dollars a month for steering for him, but even if we should find him, which I don’t much expect to do, I couldn’t get any money from him, for he will have to go to St. Louis before he can collect any himself. I could get all we need by writing to my friends in Texas, but it would take two weeks at least to get an answer from them, and where would we find food and shelter in the meantime?”
“We might be fortunate enough to run across your uncle somewhere,” said Bob. “He’ll be picked up by the first boat that goes up or down the river, if he held fast to that oar and did as I told him.”
“I certainly hope he has been picked up long before this time,” replied George. “But he wouldn’t give me any money.”
“Why, I thought you said he would give you enough to take you to Europe!”
“So he would; but he wouldn’t give me a red cent to take me home. He doesn’t want me there. I’ll go, all the same, if you will stand by me.”
“I will,” replied Bob, promptly.
At the end of an hour the boys were thoroughly dried and warmed. By this time the day began to dawn and they make ready to start for White River Landing. After they had received particular directions from the trapper in regard to the road they were to follow, they presented him with a five-dollar bill, which Bob, at George’s suggestion, had kept out of his money-belt for this purpose, and without waiting to hear his expressions of gratitude, bade him good-by and left the cabin.