"It's mighty considerate of my boys to leave us all these things.

We'll call it the raid of Black Gum Spring.
"And here comes the little lady with the coffee pot filled just right.
Now watch me pour in the good old coffee--_real_ coffee, Virgie dear--not made from aco'ns." He settled the pot on the fire and sat back with a grin.

"Oh, oh! Don't watch it," he cried, in well feigned alarm as Virgie, unwilling to believe the sight, stooped over to feast her eyes on the rich brown powder sinking into the black gulf of the pot.
"If you do that it will never, _never_ boil!" "All right," the child agreed pathetically, and she sank wearily down against her father's knee.

"I'll just pray for it to hurry up." The two men exchanged quiet smiles and Cary murmured something in his daughter's ear.
"Oh, no, I won't," she answered, and then looked up at Morrison with a roguish light in her dark eyes.

"He's only afraid I'll pray so terribly hard that the old coffee pot will boil over an' put out the fire." Morrison, chuckling, now began to drag something out of a rear pocket.
Presently, he uncorked it and held it up--a _flask_! "Here, Cary," he said, holding out a cup.