"Ef it hed n't been fer the withes they 'd 'a' ground us t' powder."

We were lying alongside the little house, and the logs were leaning
to it above us.

"Jerushy Jane Pepper!" D'ri exclaimed, rising to his knees. "'S
whut I call a twister."

He began to whittle a piece of the splintered platform. Then he
lit a shaving.

"They 's ground here," said he, as he began to kindle a fire,
"ground a-plenty right under us."

The firelight gave us a good look at our cave under the logs. It
was about ten feet long and probably half as high. The logs had
crashed through the side of the house in one or two places, and its
roof was a wreck.

"Hungry?" said D'ri, as he broke a piece of board on his knee.

"Yes," I answered.

"So 'm I," said he, "hungrier 'n a she-wolf. They 's some bread
'n' ven'son there 'n the house; we better try t' git 'em."

An opening under the logs let me around the house corner to its
door. I was able to work my way through the latter, although it
was choked with heavy timbers. Inside I could hear the wash of the
river, and through its shattered window on the farther wall I could