and the kitchen, where his aunt was already at work.

"I didn't know ye were up yet, aunty," said Jeff submissively. "It isn't
more than six o'clock."

"Thar's four more to feed at breakfast," said his aunt severely, "and
yer's the top blown off the kitchen chimbly, and the fire only just got
to go."

Jeff saw that he was in time. The ordinary breakfast of the "Half-way
House," not yet prepared, consisted of codfish, ham, yellow-ochre
biscuit, made after a peculiar receipt of his aunt's, and potatoes.

"I got a few fancy fixin's up at the Summit this morning, aunty," he
began apologetically, "seein' we had sick folks, you know--you and the
young lady--and thinkin' it might save you trouble. I've got 'em here,"
and he shyly produced the basket.

"If ye kin afford it, Jeff," responded his aunt resignedly, "I'm
thankful."

The reply was so unexpectedly mild for Aunt Sally, that Jeff put his
arms around her and kissed her hard cheek. "And I've got some quail,
aunty, knowin' you liked em."

"I reckoned you was up to some such foolishness," said Aunt Sally,
wiping her cheek with her apron, "when I missed yer gun from the hall."
But the allusion was a dangerous one, and Jeff slipped away.

He breakfasted early with Yuba Bill that morning; the latter gentleman's