The cabin proved to be a rough affair of boards—with wooden bunks on either side, and a sheet-iron stove in one corner—used merely as an occasional shelter by tong-men. Harvey laid his burden down and made haste to start a fire. Tom Edwards produced the coffee from the bag, and poured some into a tin can that he found in one corner of the cabin, in order to heat it on the stove. The man, Stanton, began untying the shoes and loosening the clothing of the unknown youth, who now stirred slightly and half opened his eyes. There were two tattered blankets by the doorway, and Mr. Stanton spread these by the stove, where Harvey soon had a fire roaring, and they laid the youth down on them.
“It’s just as I thought,” exclaimed Stanton, indignantly, turning down the youth’s coat and shirt, so that a part of his bare shoulder was exposed; “he’s been beaten with a rope’s end. It’s a disgrace, the way they treat men.”
Harvey’s face flushed, as he looked.
“We know how to sympathize with the poor fellow,” he said. “We know what dredging is like, eh, Tom?”
“Well, I rather think we do,” responded Tom Edwards. “We’ve got some scores of our own to settle with a few men, when we get back to Baltimore.”
Tom Edwards advanced now with the coffee.
“Hold him up, Jack,” he said. “This will warm him.”
Harvey put his hand under the youth’s head, raised him to a sitting position, and Tom Edwards held the tin to his lips. The youth opened his eyes and looked them in the face. As he did so, Harvey fairly gasped and nearly let him fall back.
“Tom,” he exclaimed, “look! See who it is!”
Tom Edwards set the tin down on the floor.