They went into the place, and found a grocery store and post-office. They halted near it, and spent some time in a consultation. At Jamestown they could determine with certainty where the army was going. It was a little over twenty miles, while the road the army had taken was quite thirty, though the roads were better by the latter route. Deck promptly decided to proceed to Jamestown. They deemed it advisable to avoid the towns, especially Albany, the capital of the county; and it seemed to be necessary to provide themselves with a quantity of food, for they might not be able to procure a dinner or a supper as readily as they had a breakfast. They dismounted, and entered the store. They found the postmaster half asleep behind his counter; and when Deck inquired if he had anything to eat, he replied in a very sulky manner that he had nothing. He had been robbed of about everything he had that was eatable by runaway soldiers like themselves, who had deserted from the army. "Haven't you got anything?" persisted Deck. "Not a thing; a dozen of you runaways came here last night, and took everything I had, and never paid me a cent for what they carried off, and threatened to shoot me if I made a row about it. I can't afford to keep store for sech fellers," protested the man, with intense disgust. "But I have a little money, and I am willing to pay for whatever we obtain," added the lieutenant. The storekeeper raised his head sharply, and appeared to be wide awake at these words. "Don't you think you could raise something for us?" asked Deck. "Provisions is mighty skeece down here, for the army has picked up everything they could find; and we are as poor as starved turkeys." "Well, if you hain't got nothin', of course we can't git nothin'," added Life. "If you're gwine to pay for what you have, I might raise somethin' for you," said the storekeeper. "I bought two mighty handsome chickens yesterday, and had to give a dollar apiece for 'em. My wife roasted 'em last night, and hid 'em away for our own use. If you don't mind payin' two dollars apiece for 'em, you shall have 'em." "All right; bring them along," answered Deck. The man left the store, and was absent about ten minutes, when he returned with the chickens. They were quite large, and were a toothsome morsel for hungry men. Deck then called for a dollar's worth of crackers, which the storekeeper had to bring from their hiding-place outside the building. General Woodbine had provided him with five gold half-eagles, which the lieutenant had concealed in as many different places about his own and Life's person, and a few dollars' worth of silver. Deck paid in gold for the provisions. The postmaster, who looked like a happy man since he saw the precious coin, wrapped the chickens in papers, putting a little package of salt with each; and the wanderers stuffed them into their capacious pockets, finding also space enough for the crackers.