had come down the Whiskey Bar turnpike and crossed the bridge. It was
getting warm and he was tired, and he read the bill gloomily:

"1 bottle gin, $6.00; 2 lbs. biscuits, $2.50; 1 ham, $24.00; 1 bottle
pickles, $6.00; 4 fathoms rope, $5.00; 1 watermelon, $4.00; 1 tin pan,
$16.00; 2 apples, $3.00."

Longley stuffed the bill in his pocket, and returned for his noon meal
to his log cabin on shore.

It was quite palatial - boasting a real floor made of puncheons, or hewn
logs. A bunk, against the wall, was made of a second log set four feet
from the log wall, with a hammock mattress of sacking stuffed with dried
bracken stretched between them. There was the usual huge fireplace of
granite rocks used for both warmth and cooking, and a box
pantry-cupboard nailed to the wall.

His cup and plate and saucer were of tin, and his cutlery was an iron
spoon, a three-tined fork and a hunting dagger. The dishes had not been
washed for weeks.

In warm weather he kept a few things in a small palisade driven in the
shallow water at the river 's edge, which was cool the year 'round.

Longley put his raised bread dough in a frying pan, put a second pan on
top, raked the ashes off some coals, and started it baking. A man on
horseback, driving two pack animals before him, stopped at the low
doorway.

"Hello, John! Glad to see you," called Longley.