The girl followed Lewis to the Englishman’s cabin and after being shown the provisions, she said she thought she could manage to get dinner without his assistance. He showed her how to light the hard alcohol stove which was part of their outfit and then gave her carte blanche with the canned goods and groceries.
Gwen shook her head in disapproval at sight of the pile of dirty dishes left from breakfast. It would take more than West Point training to make men wash dishes as soon as a meal is over. Lewis and Bill had a method of their own and never washed a plate until both sides had been eaten from, and not then until they were needed immediately. Supper had been eaten from the top side; breakfast, from the bottom. There were still some clean plates in the hamper, so why wash those yet?
In an incredibly short time Gwen called the young men to dinner. They lay stretched at their ease on a grassy slope near the cabin, quite pleased with themselves and their luck in having found a mule to move the dirt and a girl to cook their food all in one morning.
“What do you make of her?” asked Lewis. “She doesn’t talk or walk like a mountain girl.”
“Mission School!” commented Bill, looking at the slim, erect back of the girl as she went up the hill to the spring. She had refused their offer of help and said she wanted to get the water herself.
“I don’t believe Mission School would have her walking that way. Don’t you fancy the boy goes to school, too? Look how he slouches.”
Just then the boy, whose name was Josh, appeared, leading Josephus. Surely there never was such a specimen of horse flesh as that mule. Maud in the comic supplement was beautiful compared to him. His legs had great lumps on them and he was forced to walk with his feet quite far apart to keep from interfering. He was sway backed and spavined and blind in one eye, but there was a kindly expression in his remaining eye that reassured one. One fore leg was shorter than the other, which gave him a leaning, tumbling look that seemed to threaten to upset his equilibrium at every step.
“Well, God bless my soul!” exclaimed Lewis. “Is that Josephus?”
“Yes, sir! He ain’t so measly as he looks. He kin do a sight of scrapin’ an’ dumpin’,” and the boy reached an affectionate arm up around the old animal’s neck. Josephus responded by snorting in his master’s ear. “We uns done brought the implee-ment to make Aunty’s shawl,” pointing to a rusty old road shovel that Josephus had hitched to him.
“Good! as soon as Miss Gwen feeds us, we will see what he can do in the way of fancy work.”