More wood was piled upon the little fire, and they waited not very patiently for hot ashes. The eggs were rolled up in large grape leaves, and fastened with little twigs. The sun went down, and the fire-light began to shine brightly on the overhanging boughs and the watchful faces of the children. Finally Kitty said it must be time, and proceeded to push away the blazing brands, and to roll the eggs in among the glowing ashes. She had just covered them, after a fashion, with the stick she used for a poker, and was saying to Ted they would soon be done, when something came crashing along through the brush, and there was a man with a scratched face and a torn coat, and a gun on his shoulder, standing before them.
"Oh, papa," said Ted, after taking a second look at him, "mayn't we stay until the pattridge eggs are done? 'Cause we're so hungry."
"Oh, you—rascals," was all the father could say; and he was either very tired, or else Kitty rushed upon him and hugged his knees too vigorously, for he sank right down on the ground, and commenced wiping his face, and his eyes seemed to need a great deal of wiping.
"We didn't mean to camp out, papa," said Kitty, softly. "We only wanted to go home the nearest way, and we couldn't find it at all; and so when we found we were lost a little bit, we staid right where we were, so's not to get any more lost. Wasn't that right, papa? We knew you'd find us."
"Yes, an' we knew you wouldn't come hollerin' round like crazy Ingins. An' isn't the eggs done, Kit?" said Ted.
"Here's things to eat—things grandma fixed for you;" and the father quickly opened a little bundle that hung at his side. "I was so glad to see you alive, and having a good time, that I almost forgot your lunch, you poor Hottentots."
The lunch was quickly disposed of, and after drinking two swallows apiece of blackberry wine—which grandma sent word they must do—the children "broke camp," and started for home, carrying the eggs in a handkerchief.
"It was a good thing you started your fire, little folks. I was just going to give up the mountain, and follow the others down to the creek, when I saw a smoke curling up, and I remembered your weakness for bonfires, and so— Why, bless me! I've forgotten the signal." And the happy father took his repeating rifle from his shoulder, and fired three shots into the air.
Pop!—pop!—pop! That meant, "Found, and alive, and well." Three or four guns answered from the valley below; and the mother and grandma, waiting and listening by the farm-house gate, thought they had never heard such sweet music in all their lives.
Only a quarter of a mile of very rough ground was travelled before the children found themselves trotting along in the "nearer way" they had tried to find the night before; and in an hour's time, after being much kissed and very tenderly scolded, they were bathed and lying in their clean, sweet beds, and Ted was sleepily saying to himself, "This is nicer'n em'grants, after all."