I guess we'd better be goin'.'

The elbow that held my head, lying on the rim of the basket, was
already numb; but the prickling could no longer rouse me, and
half-dead with weariness, I fell asleep. Uncle Eb has told me since,
that I tumbled out of the basket once, and that he had a time of it
getting me in again, but I remember nothing more of that day's
history.

When I woke in the morning, I could hear the crackling of fire, and
felt very warm and cosy wrapped in the big shawl. I got a cheery
greeting from Uncle Eb, who was feeding the fire with a big heap
of sticks that he had piled together. Old Fred was licking my hands
with his rough tongue, and I suppose that is what waked me. Tea
was steeping in the little pot that hung over the fire, and our
breakfast of boiled eggs and bread and butter lay on a paper beside
it. I remember well the scene of our little camp that morning. We
had come to a strange country, and there was no road in sight. A
wooded hill lay back of us, and, just before, ran a noisy little
brook, winding between smooth banks, through a long pasture into
a dense wood. Behind a wall on the opposite shore a great field of
rustling corn filled a broad valley and stood higher than a man's
head.

While I went to wash my face in the clear water Uncle Eb was
husking some ears of corn that he took out of his pocket, and had
them roasting over the fire in a moment. We ate heartily, giving
Fred two big slices of bread and butter, packing up with enough
remaining for another day. Breakfast over we doused the fire and
Uncle Eb put on his basket He made after a squirrel, presently,