either water or
grass, and then lifted Kate from the buggy, and literally carried her to
the place where they must needs climb along the poles. It was with much
difficulty that he partly carried her, partly persuaded her to climb
along that slender fence. How he ever got the almost helpless girl over
into that hazel-brush thicket he never exactly knew, but as they
approached the house, guided by a candle set in the window, she grew more
and more feeble, until Albert was obliged to carry her in and lay her
down in a swoon of utter exhaustion.

The inhabitant of the cabin ran to a little cupboard, made of a
packing-box, and brought out a whisky-flask, and essayed to put it to her
lips, but as he saw her lying there, white and beautiful in her
helplessness, he started back and said, with a rude reverence, "Stranger,
gin her some of this 'ere--I never could tech sech a creetur!"

And Albert gave her some of the spirits and watched her revive. He warmed
her hands and chafed her feet before the fire which the backwoodsman had
made. As she came back to consciousness, Charlton happened to think that
he had no dry clothes for her. He would have gone immediately back to the
buggy, where there was a portmanteau carefully stowed under the seat, but
that the Inhabitant had gone out and he was left alone with Katy, and he
feared that she would faint again if he should leave her. Presently the
tall, lank, longhaired man came in.

"Mister," he said, "I made kinder sorter free with your things. I thought
as how as the young woman might want to shed some of them air wet
feathers of her'n, and so I jist venter'd to go and git this yer bag
'thout axin' no leave nor license, while you was a-bringin' on her to.
Looks pooty peart, by hokey! Now, mister, we ha'n't got no spar rooms
here. But you and me'll jes' take to the loff thar fer a while, seein'
our room is better nor our comp'ny. You kin change up stars."

They went to the loft by an outside ladder, the Inhabitant speaking very
reverently in a whisper, evidently feeling sure that there was an angel
down-stairs. They went down again after a while, and the Inhabitant piled
on wood so prodigally that the room became too warm; he boiled a pot of
coffee, fried some salt-pork, baked some biscuit, a little yellow and a
little too short, but to the hungry travelers very palatable. Even
Charlton found it easy to forego his Grahamism and eat salt-pork,
especially as he had a glass of milk. Ka