“Yes,” Clay replied, “Chicago is some city. Will you accept pay for my breakfast?” he continued.
“You’re only a boy,” the woman replied, “and so don’t know any better than to offer a Kintucky woman pay for a feed. But I wouldn’t do that any more if I were you.”
Thanking the woman from the bottom of his heart for her hospitality and her kindly advice, the boy started away in the direction of the river.
On his return he took care to pass through that portion of the thicket where he had heard the horses on his way in. He found three remarkably fine-looking animals, all saddled and bridled, standing in the thicket. As he stepped toward one of them, a boy, certainly not more than twelve years of age, leaped at him.
“What you doing here?” the youth demanded.
“I have just come from the house,” Clay replied. “Your mother gave me a fine breakfast.”
“Did she, now?” asked the boy suspiciously.
“She certainly did,” answered Clay resolved to continue the conversation with the lad until he learned something more concerning the three blue lights. The boy dropped his hostile attitude at once.
“I was going on to other houses in search of provisions,” Clay went on, “but your mother advised me that it wouldn’t be safe.”
“It shore ain’t safe!” the boy replied.