It was a one-roomed affair, built entirely of logs, with no flooring and no ceiling. Only under the roof three or four strong rafters ran from end to end, and across these at one end were laid half a dozen stout planks or slabs, forming a makeshift loft. The remainder of the roof space was vacant and unboarded. Not quite opposite to the window was the door, which was closed, and in the middle of the solitary chamber stood—oh! gracious and appetite-inspiring sight!—a rough-hewn table, covered with all manner of delicacies. A pot of steaming coffee was flanked by three or four tin cups full of milk, and a fine cut of ham stood royally among tinned meats of sorts, broken biscuits, and last, but not least, a jar of jam. And all this spread of dainties stood unheeded. Apparently there was no one to enjoy it. ‘By time!’ whispered Ephraim. ‘Did ever ye see the like? The old man is goin’ ter hev a good time fer once, I ’magine. Step right in, Luce. We won’t wait till he comes in. I’m sartin he’d like us to make ourselves at home.’ ‘Hush!’ whispered Lucius back warningly. ‘I am sure I hear some one.’ ‘Keep still, then, till I go and reckoniter,’ breathed Ephraim. ‘I won’t be a minnit.’ He stole away round the hut, and presently returned, his face purple, and the sleeve of his tunic stuffed into his mouth to prevent the inward laughter which convulsed him from finding outward expression. ‘By time!’ he chuckled softly, as soon as he had regained his self-command. ‘Sech a joke! Lay low, Luce. Say nuthin’; but laugh!’ ‘Why, what is it?’ whispered Lucius. ‘What did you see?’ ‘Ye’d never begin ter believe it,’ responded Ephraim in the same soft undertone. ‘Who d’ ye think thet breakfast’s fer? Why, fer the Yankee gin’ruls theyselves. There’s a knot of ’em way yander in the clearin’ ’sputin’ ’bout suthin’; and there’s a sentry marchin’ up and down before the door as stiff as a ramrod. By time! it’s lucky they didn’t think of guardin’ the window.’ ‘It was the sentry I heard,’ said Lucius. ‘I reckon. No matter. In with ye, bub. We’ll help ’em through with some er thet ham and them crackers, and be off again before ye kin say knife.’ Lucius needed no second invitation, and followed closely by Ephraim, climbed noiselessly through the window. Without loss of time they drank off the mugs of milk, leaving the coffee untasted, because it was so very hot, and delays were dangerous. Then, while Lucius stuffed his pockets full of crackers, Ephraim employed his clasp-knife to better purpose than cutting his own fingers by slicing off a goodly wedge of the ham. ‘Ready, Luce?’ the Grizzly whispered, his face beaming with delight at the humour of the thing. ‘’Twon’t do ter wait fer our hosts. There’d be a leetle too much ter pay.’ Lucius nodded. He had just absorbed an enormous mouthful of jam, and was consequently unable to speak. But he sneaked to the window after Ephraim. ‘Bring the jam along,’ whispered the latter. ‘It’ll go fine with the crackers.’