"We were shipwrecked twenty-five miles up the coast. We want supplies and help to bring in two companions, one of whom is badly hurt," answered Charley.
"Come closer an' let me have a good look at you-all," commanded the cabin's occupant, "Here yu Bet, yu Tige, yu Jim, be still thar," he called to the snarling pack which slunk growling away at his harsh commands.
The boys drew near the cabin in obedience to his order. A brief survey of them seemed to convince its owner that they were not what he feared. The cabin door was flung open, and, rifle in hand, he appeared in the doorway.
"Come in you-alls an' have a cheer," he invited. "I'll jis' unhitch them oxen an' then, while I'm rustling up a bit of supper, you-alls can give me your story."
The tired, hungry boys accepted his invitation with alacrity, and, while he was busy unharnessing the yoke of steers, they seated themselves in a couple of rude home-made chairs, and gazed curiously about them.
The cabin was about twenty feet square. Its rough log walls were whitewashed, and its pine-slab floor spotlessly clean. At one end was a big old-fashioned fireplace from the rafters above which hung home-cured hams, slabs of bacon, and strings of sausages. A barrel in a corner was heaped high with huge, sweet, sugary yams. Several boxes beside it were heaped with onions, cabbages, carrots, pumpkins, and other vegetables. In another corner stood a barrel of home-ground corn meal and a big hogshead of water. Taken all in all, the little cabin's interior was a sight to fill the two hungry lads with satisfied anticipation. They had hardly completed their survey of it when their strange host entered latching and bolting the heavy door behind him.
He was a man about forty years of age, strongly built, but sallow with the sallowness of the native Floridian. His face was kindly in expression but stamped on its every line was a look of uneasiness and apprehension. It was not an expression of fear but rather the look of a brave man who was simply on his guard every moment against expected dangers.
"I sho' have got to ask you-all to excuse me fur the way I dun greeted you," he apologized, "but, you see, strangers are mighty scarse around hyar an' one has to be plum' careful. I'se powerful glad to see a new face though—it's been mighty nigh two years since I had talk with a stranger. I reckon, you-alls must be some hungry. I'll rustle up a little supper while you-all gives me your tale."
With a deftness that indicated long batching experience, he cut great slices of ham and placed them to broil over the coals, mixed a pone of corn bread and put it to bake in a Dutch oven, and buried a dozen big yams to roast among the embers. While he was thus engaged, Charley related the story of their voyage and shipwreck omitting only any mention of the gold. His story was frequently interrupted by his host's exclamations, "I swan, an' dew tell." When the lad had finished, the stranger beamed upon him with evident pleasure. "I swan, hit's jis' like a novel I read once," he declared, "hit was writ by a fellow called Russell, Clark Russell, if I don't disremember his name. I don't reckon his story was true though. I 'lows he just made it up outer his head—but the vittals is ready now, you-alls jis' back up to the table thar an' helps yourselves."