I got to the ground as fast as I could, and we made our way toward it.  Soon we saw it plainly, glowing among the trees; and, following its guidance, soon came to a cleared space, where stood a rude log cabin, in front of which burned a fire of pine knots.  Before it was a man of the class which the darkies were wont to designate as “pore white trash.”  He was a tall, gawky countryman, rawboned, with long, unkempt hair.  His homespun clothes were decidedly the worse for wear; his trousers were tucked into the tops of his heavy cowhide boots, and perched upon his head was the roughest of home-woven straw-hats.

At the sound of our footsteps he turned, and to say that he was surprised at our appearance would but ill describe his amazement.  Father Friday speedily assured him that we were neither raiders nor bush-rangers, but simply two very hungry wanderers who had been astray in the woods all day.

“Wa-all now, strangers, them is raither hard lines,” said the man, good-naturedly.  “Jest make yerselves ter home hyere ternight, an’ in the mornin’ I’ll put yer on the right road to A------.  Lors, but yer must a-had a march!  Been purty much all over the woods, I reckon.—­Mirandy!” he continued, calling to some one inside the cabin.  “Mirandy!”

“I’m a-heedin’, Josh.  What’s the matter?” inquired a scrawny, sandy-haired woman, coming to the door, with her arms akimbo.  “Mussy me!” she ejaculated upon seeing us.

“Hyere’s two folks as has got lost in this hyere forest, an’ is plum tired out an’ powerful hongry,” explained her husband.

“Mussy me!” she repeated, eyeing my blue coat askance, and regarding Father Friday with suspicious wonder.  She had never seen a uniform like that long black cassock.  To which side did he belong, Federal or Confederate?

“Mirandy’s Secesh, but I’m for the Union,” explained Josh, with a wink to us.  “Sometimes we have as big a war as any one cyares ter see, right hyere, on ‘ccount of it.  But, Lors, Mirandy, yer ain’t a-goin’ ter quarrel with a man ’cause the color of his coat ain’t ter yer likin’ when he ain’t had a bite of vittles terday!”

“No, I ain’t,” answered the woman, stolidly.  Glancing again at Father Friday’s kind face, she added, more graciously:  “Wa-all, yer jest in the nick of time; the hoe-cake’s nyearly done, and we war about havin’ supper.  Hey, Josh?”

“Sartain sure,” said Josh, ushering us into the kitchen, which was the principal room of the cabin, though a door at the side apparently led into a smaller one adjoining.  He made us sit down at the table, and Mirandy placed the best her simple larder afforded before us.

As we went out by the fire again, our host said, with some embarrassment:  “Now, strangers, I know ye’re fagged out, an’ for sure ye’re welcome to the tiptop of everythin’ we’ve got.  But I’m blessed if I can tell whar ye’re a-goin’ ter sleep ternight.  We’ve company, yer see, in the leetle room yonder; an’ that’s the only place we’ve got ter offer, ordinar’ly.”