If Tom was a
philosopher, in his humble way, he was reasonable enough to admit that a
man could not live without eating. At this point, therefore, the question
of rations became a serious and solemn problem; and the longer it remained
unsolved the more difficult and harassing it became.

After he had rested all the forenoon in a secluded spot, without
interruption from man or beast, he decided to settle this question of
rations once for all. If impudence had enabled him to pass a line of rebel
sentries, it ought to furnish him with a dinner. Leaving his hiding place,
he walked till he discovered a small house, at which he determined to
apply for something to eat.

CHAPTER XVII.

DINNER AND DANGER.

The house at which Tom applied for food evidently did not belong to one of
the "first families," or, if it did, the owner's fortunes had become sadly
dilapidated. It was built of rough boards, with a huge stone chimney,
which was erected on the outside of the structure. The humblest fisherman
in Pinchbrook Harbor would have thought himself poorly accommodated in
such a rough and rickety mansion.

If Tom's case had not been growing desperate, he would not have run the
risk of showing himself to any person on the "sacred soil" who was "to the
manor born;" but his stomach was becoming more and more imperative in its
demands, and he knocked at the front door with many misgivings, especially
as his exchequer contained less than a dollar of clear cash.

The inmates were either very deaf or very much indisposed to see visitors;
and Tom, after he had knocked three times, began to think he had not run
any great risk in coming to this house. As nobody replied to his summons,
he took the liberty to open the door and enter. The establishment was even
more primitive in its interior than its exterior, and the soldier boy
could not help contrasting it with the neat houses of the poor in his
native town.

The front door opened into a large room without the formality of an entry
or hall. In one corner of the apartment stood a bed. At one side was a
large fireplace, in which half a dozen sticks of green wood were hissing
and sizzling in a vain attempt to make the contents of an iron pot, which
hung over them, reach the boiling point. No person was to be seen or heard
on the premises, though the fire and the pot were suggestive of humanity
at no great distance from the spot.

A door on the back side of the room was open, and To