Uncle Eb has told me since, that I tumbled out of the basket once, and that he had a time of it getting me in again, but I remember nothing more of that day's history.
When I woke in the morning, I could hear the crackling of fire, and felt very warm and cosy wrapped in the big shawl.

I got a cheery greeting from Uncle Eb, who was feeding the fire with a big heap of sticks that he had piled together.

Old Fred was licking my hands with his rough tongue, and I suppose that is what waked me.

Tea was steeping in the little pot that hung over the fire, and our breakfast of boiled eggs and bread and butter lay on a paper beside it.

I remember well the scene of our little camp that morning.