“Well,” he said, finally. “I’ll try you on the food question. You’re both hungry enough, I dare say. Just make yourself comfortable and I’ll have my man start breakfast.”
Harvey and Tom Edwards settled back in their chairs, warm and grateful. It seemed too good to be true, to be comfortably housed and with the prospect of a good breakfast, after the hardships they had gone through. And when they sat down to the table some time later, with coffee and eggs and bacon and hot rolls and crisp fried potatoes arrayed appetizingly before them, they could hardly believe they were not dreaming. Hope and courage grew anew within them, and already their troubles seemed at an end.
They were glad enough, when they had finished, to accept the proffered hospitality of a bed; and they went off to sleep, wearied and worn but vastly content in the consciousness that they were safe, and might rest unmolested. They slept the most of that day, and roused up at evening only, to partake of a bit of supper and then turn in again, for a long night of sleep and rest.
The next day, the easterly storm blew up that had made life miserable aboard the dredger, Brandt, away across the bay on the eastern shore. How far from their minds was the thought that, while they sat, comfortably sheltered against the snow and sleet, the youth, Artie Jenkins, who had brought all their troubles upon them, was, himself, toiling miserably and wretched, at the winch aboard the Brandt. By no stretch of the imagination could Harvey have pictured his friend, Henry Burns, under bondage to Haley, as he himself had been.
Harvey and Tom Edwards, urged to remain until they were fully refreshed, and until the weather softened to admit of their travelling without danger or great hardship, gladly accepted. They remained that day and the next under the roof of their good host. He, on his part, was glad of their company, and would have had them remain even longer.
On the fourth day, however, the weather moderating and not enough snow having fallen to make the road impassable, Harvey and his companion determined to set out. They were in high spirits, for their generous host had lent them money for their passage to Baltimore and to purchase what they might need on the way. Moreover, he had given them the name of a man at a small settlement called Trap, a mile or two up the road, who owned a horse, and who, he thought, would drive them northward. In the forenoon, then, they started, with a cordial farewell and wishes for good luck.
Lawyer Phillips had been a generous and thoughtful friend. The shabby, sea-worn clothing that the two had worn on their arrival at his home had been replaced by garments from his own wardrobe—second-hand, to be sure, but far better and warmer than what they had. Over his shoulder Harvey carried a small sack which contained half a boiled ham, two loaves of bread, some corn biscuit and a big bottle of coffee. They were rested and had been well fed; and they went along the icy road in high spirits.
In a little more than an hour they had reached the settlement to which they had been directed, consisting of some three or four houses. They went in to the door of one of these, and knocked. A man opened the door.
“We are looking for Mr. Stanton,” said Tom Edwards.
“That’s my name,” responded the man; “what’s wanted?”