"Please give us something to eat and then we'll tell you," he said in a weak voice.
The negro showed instant sympathy. "Is you boys perishin' for sump'n to eat?" he asked, regretfully. "Lem me git you sump'n quick!"
He rushed about and within less than two minutes had piled hot meat, fish and bread on palmetto leaves placed before the boys where they sat on the billowy wiregrass.
"You boys sho kin eat," he commented, grinning, as he watched them devour the good food. "I des know you was most starvin'. You kin eat all dat and have plenty mo'."
After Ted had satisfied his hunger, felt strengthened, and had thanked the negro gratefully and very politely, he asked:
"What camp is this?"
"Eight young white mens been campin' yuh since las' summer and dey brung me in to cook dey vittles. I'm July Martin."
"Oh—this is where those slackers are hiding to keep out of the war?" said Ted, stating a recognized fact in the form of a question.
"Dis is it, but don't tell 'em I tole you. Dey's mighty partic'lar to keep people fum knowin' where dey is."
"How about you?" asked Ted. "Negro men are being drafted for war service, too."