The door stood unlatched and I pushed it open.

A single glance served to reveal everything the place contained.
Without doubt it had been the late abode of Indians, who, in all probability had fled hastily to join Black Hawk in his foray up Rock River.

There was no pretense at furniture of any description--nothing, indeed, but bare walls and trampled dirt floor, but what interested me most was a small bit of jerked deer meat which still hung against an upright and the rude stone fireplace in the center of the hut, with an opening above to carry away the smoke.

I had found during the night a fair supply of hard bread in my saddle-bag, and now, with this additional gift of Providence, felt assured, at least, of one sufficient meal.

I stood there for perhaps a minute, staring wonderingly about that gloomy interior, but making no further discoveries, then I returned without and called to the others.
"It is all right, Tim, there is no one here.