The strange dress and wild appearance of the two soldiers clinging to the door of the house, and the fantastic effect of the afternoon sun on the stained-glass window, as if the interior were on fire, so startled the strangers that they lowered their rifles to a position for defense, and turned from the direct approach, until they had gained a position among the rustling corn-stalks in front of the door. The various buildings and the evidence of cultivation on the mountain-top staggered the visitors, and the haggard faces of Coleman and Bromley led them to believe that they had come upon a camp of the fabled wild men of the woods. They had never seen a stained-glass window before, and to their minds it suggested some infernal magic, so the two valley-men stood elbow to elbow in an attitude for defense, and waited for the others to speak. "Come on, neighbors," said Bromley, holding out his empty hands. "We are only three starving men." One of the valley-men was tall and lank, and the other was sturdily built; and at these pacific words of Bromley they advanced, still keeping close together. "We don't see but two," said the stout man, coming to a halt again. "Where's the other one at?" "He's too weak to get out of his bunk," said Lieutenant Coleman. "For God's sake, have you brought us food?" "That's just what we have," said the rosy-faced stout man, who came on without any further hesitation. "We've brought ye a corn-pone. We 'lowed there might be some human critters starvin' up here." With that he whisked about the thin man, and snatched a corn-loaf from the haversack on his back. "How did you-all ever git here?" said the thin man. "Hit's seven year since the old bridge tumbled into the gorge." There was no reply to this question, for Bromley was devouring his bread like a starved wolf, while Coleman had turned away to share his piece with Philip. The eagerness with which they ate seemed to please the two valley-men, who were willing enough to wait a reasonable time for the information they sought. It was a fine opportunity to give some account of themselves, and the rosy-faced man made good use of it. "We're plumb friendly," he said, "and mighty glad we brought along the bread, ain't we, Tom? Mightn't 'a' done hit if hit hadn't 'a' been for my old woman insistin'. She 'lowed some hunter fellers had got up here and couldn't git down ag'in, and she hild fast to that idea while she was a-bakin' last night, time your fire was a-burnin'. Hit certainly takes women folks to git the rights o' things, don't hit, Tom? My name is Riley Hooper, and this yer friend o' mine is Tom Zachary, and we're nothin' if we ain't friendly." Poor Philip was unable to swallow the dry bread, and Coleman came to the door with the golden cup in his hand, and begged one of the men to bring a cup of water from the branch. Tom Zachary hurried off on this mission of mercy.