"That brings ye to this hickory—see?—with a rock under hit. Now, then, straight up from this is the place we's after, twenty-five steps, about; but hit's hard to tell, hit's so steep."
He deposited his load upon a flat platform of rock, above which, at a height of a dozen feet, the bank overhung. Under the bank was a hole, not clear enough to be called a cave, nor of any great size. Bud sank down, gratefully, beside his leader, and scrutinized the place.
"Not overly large," he commented, "but Ah 'low hit 'll be right smart bigger when hit's cleaned out."
"Hit is," returned Pressley, laconically. He spoke with so much decision that Bud looked at him sharply.
"You-all ain' ever——?" He hesitated.
"Used hit before? Not much! Ah ain' a plumb fool! But they's nothing like comin' from a fam'ly that's observin' an' contrivin'."
A smile of self-appreciation swept over his face.
"Ah've knowed about this place ever since Ah was fryin' size. In fact, mah father—well, never min' him. Only you'll fin' they's plenty o' room inside to stow away that rubbish an' all our little do-es beside."
"Whereaway's the water?"
"They's a spring over yonder a little bit."