The brook offered treasure-trove in the shape of a number of short planks and pieces of boxes rudely nailed together, doubtless representing the efforts of some boy to construct a raft. Wayne doubted its seaworthiness after he had experimentally pushed it back into the water and tried his weight on it. He floated it along to the nearest point to the car, getting his feet thoroughly wet in the process, and then, not without much panting and frequent rests, dragged it the balance of the way. After that he ranged the field in all directions, returning several times with his loads of wood for fuel or window repairs. He had quite a respectable pile on the front platform by the time June returned. The darkey brought a whole pocketful of nails and a number of sheets of tin of various sizes which he had salvaged from the waste heap. Few were larger than fifteen or sixteen inches in any direction, but together they would turn the wind and rain at one window at least. The nails had been given him by a man in the office. He had, he said, requested a hammer, too, but the man’s generosity had balked there. They set to work with the materials at hand and inside of the next hour accounted for four windows and part of a fifth, leaving six still open to the winds of Heaven. They made a systematic search for more boards, but failed to find any. Foiled, they entered their new home and sat down for a brief rest. The sight of the groceries presented a new quandary to Wayne. “Look here, June,” he exclaimed. “We’ve got coffee and milk and sugar, and we know where there’s water, but we haven’t anything to boil it in!” “My goodness!” said June. “Ain’ that a fac’? What we-all goin’ to do, Mas’ Wayne?” Wayne shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I reckon that skillet wouldn’t do, would it?” It wouldn’t, as an examination proved, for when the handle had broken off it had taken a generous piece of the skillet with it. June studied the situation hard, cupping his chin in his hands and gazing at the scuffed toes of his shoes. “I reckon,” he said finally, “we jus’ got to _eat_ that coffee. ’Sides,” he continued, “how we goin’ to boil it, anyway, without no fire?” “We could build a fire outside,” answered Wayne. “For that matter, we could build one in the stove. I reckon the smoke wouldn’t bother us much seeing half our windows are open! But we’ve got to have a coffee-pot or a pan or something. We surely were chumps, June,” he ended sadly. “How come we didn’ think of that, Mas’ Wayne?” “There’s something else we didn’t think of,” replied the other. “We didn’t think of anything to drink it out of, either!” “I ain’ botherin’ so much about that,” said June. “Jus’ you cook me that coffee an’ see! But we surely has got to have somethin’ to----” He stopped abruptly. “How much money we got, Mas’ Wayne?” he asked eagerly. “Five cents. You can’t get a coffee-pot for five cents, I reckon.”