“I’m not a warden,” laughed Mr. Campbell. “You have nothing to fear. I’ll just run the car under the shed, and then I’ll bring your bags in if you want them,” he added, for he thought Rick and Chot might want to don sleeping garments, as long as there were bunks for them to turn into.
“Oh, don’t bother,” said Rick. “We’re all right as we are, and the rain coats kept us dry—all but our feet and we can take off our shoes.”
“We’ve got a good fire,” said another of the men, and the boys saw the flames leaping and crackling in a fireplace as they advanced farther into the room.
Mr. Campbell ran the car around behind the lonely shack, where he found a rough shed that would afford some protection against the rain, and keep dry the baggage and other things in the car. Sensing that this was a sort of rough-and-ready stopping place, Mr. Campbell did not bring in any of his luggage or that of the boys’ either. They could take off some of their clothes and stretch out in the bunks, waiting for morning and, he hoped, the stopping of the storm.
When he again entered the cabin he found Rick and Chot drying their feet before the fire, their shoes having been removed, and Ruddy was stretched out basking in the genial warmth. The three men sat at the table, where they had been playing cards. Seemingly they were awaiting the reappearance of Mr. Campbell that he might give a further account of himself and his boy companions.
Mr. Campbell seemed to realize that an explanation was in order, for he told, without being asked, of his trip to San Francisco, and mentioned that he was taking Rick out to join Uncle Tod.
“You’ve got quite a ways yet to go,” observed the man who seemed to be the leader. He had introduced himself as Martin, and his companions as Elkton and Shadd. “We’re looking up some timber claims here,” he added, “and we got the use of this cabin. ’Tisn’t ours, but you’re welcome to stay, and we have some grub left.”
“Thanks,” said Mr. Campbell. “We don’t want to rob you, but a cup of hot coffee would go mighty well now—if you can spare it.”
“Sure!” said the man called Shadd. He seemed to be the cook, for soon, on a ramshackle stove in what was the kitchen of the shack, he had brewed steaming coffee that was most grateful to the tired, cold and damp travelers.
“Like some baked beans?” asked Shadd, when the coffee had been disposed of.