"How far is it to the beach?" inquired Mr. Brown, who had got pretty well thawed out by this time.
"Eight long miles," replied Joe, "and the most of the way lies through the thickest woods that are to be found among these hills. I can't direct you so that you could keep a straight course, and indeed I don't think I could keep it myself on a dark night like this. You had better give up the idea of going there to-night, and stay here until morning."
"You seem to have but one bed," said Mr. Brown, doubtfully.
"Well, you may take that, and I'll look out for myself."
Most men would have expressed their regrets that circumstances compelled them to trespass upon the young game-warden's hospitality; but Mr. Brown wasn't that sort. He had a cheerful fire to sit by, a clean, if not luxurious bed to sleep in, a substantial meal in prospect, and what more could a belated hunter ask for? If his presence put Joe to any inconvenience, why, that was no concern of his.
The supper that Joe served up to his uninvited guest was plain but well cooked, and no sooner had it been disposed of than Mr. Brown threw himself upon the cot, boots and all, and speedily went off into the land of dreams.
Joe spent the evening in looking over the books and papers with which Mr. Warren had provided him, and when his watch told him that it was ten o'clock, he lay down before the fire, with his coat for a pillow, and went to sleep.
The first gray streaks of dawn that came in through the uncurtained window awoke him, but his guest still slumbered heavily, and Joe did not disturb him until he had made the coffee and slapjacks, and fried the bacon and eggs.
Mr. Brown did not take the trouble to respond to the boy's hearty good-morning, but seated himself at the table, after performing a hasty toilet, and attacked the savory viands without ceremony.