The cabin, for such it really was, to which Ephraim drew his comrade’s attention, stood folded in, as it were, between two out-jutting arms of the wood. The long arm, the actual trend of the wood in the same line as the boys, swept so close to the back of the house as to almost touch it. Certainly not more than ten paces separated the one from the other. The second arm, formed by a spur of the wood springing off almost at right angles to the main forest, bounded a clearing in front and at the far side of the house. Looked at from the boys’ point of view, the back of the house with a solitary window was in full view, one side partly visible, while the front and far side were quite out of their line of sight.
‘Thar don’t seem no one ter stop us,’ said Ephraim, after they had studied the position for a few minutes. ‘I vote we go up ter thet cabin, and ef the owner’s ter hum, we kin arsk him fer some breakfast.’
‘I like the notion,’ answered Lucius, smacking his lips. ‘I suppose we may take it for granted that it isn’t a Yankee who inhabits the house.’
‘In the valley! I should smile!’ remarked Ephraim with fine scorn. ‘Anyway we’ll be all right, fer ef by any accident it is a bunkum Yank thet lives thar, our uniforms will fetch him. He can’t help hisself when it comes to feedin’ a wounded comrade.’ He glanced at the handkerchief on Luce’s head and grinned. ‘But thar,’ he went on, ‘what’d a Yank be doin’ farmin’ in the valley? I guess it’ll be all squar. Come and let’s see.’
They re-entered the wood and worked their way along, keeping well within the trees until they came opposite to the back of the cabin. The window, or rather hole in the wall which did duty for such, was destitute of glass, and the shutter which served to close it swung idly on creaking hinges in the light morning breeze.
‘Smell that!’ said Ephraim, sniffing the air. ‘The old man, whoever he is, has got hot coffee fer breakfast. This ain’t no fat thing, I reckon. Oh, no!’ He rubbed his hands together gleefully.
‘On you go, then,’ urged Lucius. ‘Only go easy. We don’t want to put our heads into a hornet’s nest.’
They left the cover of the woods, and crossing the narrow strip of ground, approached the window and looked into the cabin.
It was a one-roomed affair, built entirely of logs, with no flooring and no ceiling. Only under the roof three or four strong rafters ran from end to end, and across these at one end were laid half a dozen stout planks or slabs, forming a makeshift loft. The remainder of the roof space was vacant and unboarded. Not quite opposite to the window was the door, which was closed, and in the middle of the solitary chamber stood—oh! gracious and appetite-inspiring sight!—a rough-hewn table, covered with all manner of delicacies. A pot of steaming coffee was flanked by three or four tin cups full of milk, and a fine cut of ham stood royally among tinned meats of sorts, broken biscuits, and last, but not least, a jar of jam. And all this spread of dainties stood unheeded. Apparently there was no one to enjoy it.
‘By time!’ whispered Ephraim. ‘Did ever ye see the like? The old man is goin’ ter hev a good time fer once, I ’magine. Step right in, Luce. We won’t wait till he comes in. I’m sartin he’d like us to make ourselves at home.’