“I knew where I’d met Mr. Williams afore.”
“You did?” cried Simeon.
“Um-hm. Wait a while. Well, Fatty went to bed, in one of the hay bunks, pretty soon after that. He stripped to his underclothes and turned in under the patchwork comforters. He was too beat out to want any supper, even if there’d been any in sight. I built a fire in the rusty cook stove and dried his duds and mine. Then I set down in the busted chair and begun to think. After a spell I got up and took account of stock, as you might say, of the eatables in the shanty. Darius had carted off his own grub and what there was on hand was mine, left over from the gunnin’ season—a hunk of salt pork in the pickle tub, some corn meal in a tin pail, some musty white flour in another pail, a little coffee, a little sugar and salt, and a can of condensed milk. I took these things out of the locker they was in, looked ’em over, put ’em back again and sprung the padlock. Then I put the key into my pocket and went back to my chair to do some more thinkin’.
“Next mornin’ I was up early and when the banker turned out I was fryin’ a couple of slices of the pork and had some coffee b’ilin’. Likewise there was a pan of johnnycake in the oven. The wind had gone down consider’ble, but ‘twas foggy and thick again, which was a pleasin’ state of things for yours truly.
“Williams smelt the cookin’ almost afore he got his eyes open.
“‘Hurry up with that breakfast,’ he says to me. ‘I’m hungry as a wolf.’
“I didn’t say nothin’ then; just went ahead with my cookin’. He got into his clothes and went outdoor. Pretty soon he comes back, cussin’ the weather.
“‘See here, Mr. Williams,’ says I, ’how about them orders to your housekeeper? Are they straight? Won’t she have you hunted up for a week?’
“He colored pretty red, but from what he said I made out that she wouldn’t. I gathered that him and the old lady wa’n’t real chummy. She give him his grub and her services, and he give her the Old Harry and her wages. She wouldn’t hunt for him, not until she was ordered to. She’d be only too glad to have him out of the way.
“‘Humph!’ says I. ’Then I cal’late we’ll enjoy the scenery on this garden spot of creation until the week’s up.’
“‘What do you mean?’ says he.
“‘Well,’ I says, ’the launch is out of commission, unless it should rain gasoline, and at this time of year there ain’t likely to be a boat within hailin’ distance of this island; ’specially if the weather holds bad.’
“He swore a blue streak, payin’ partic’lar attention to the housekeeper for her general stupidness and to me because I’d got him, so he said, into this scrape. I didn’t say nothin’; set the table, with one plate and one cup and sasser and knife and fork, hauled up a chair and set down to my breakfast. He hauled up a box and set down, too.
“‘Pass me that corn bread,’ says he. ‘And why didn’t you fry more pork?’