It was really so little,
but to him it was so much. He nodded with satis-
faction at the discovery of a fireplace and a rusty
cooking-stove.
He sat and smoked until the storm passed over.
The rainfall had been very heavy, there had been
hail, but the poor little house had not failed of per-
fect shelter. A fairly cold wind from the northwest
blew through the door. The hail had brought about
a change of atmosphere. The burning heat was
gone. The night would be cool, even chilly.
Stebbins got up and examined the stove and the
pipe. They were rusty, but appeared trustworthy.
He went out and presently returned with some fuel
which he had found unwet in a thick growth of
wood. He laid a fire handily and lit it. The little
stove burned well, with no smoke. Stebbins looked
at it, and was perfectly happy. He had found other
treasures outside -- a small vegetable-garden in which
were potatoes and some corn. A man had squatted
in this little shack for years, and had raised his own
garden-truck. He had died only a few weeks ago,
and his furniture had been pre-empted with the ex-
ception of the stove, the chair, a tilting lounge in
the small room, and a few old iron pots and frying-
pans. Stebbins gathered corn, dug potatoes, and
put them on the stove to cook, then he hurried out
to the village store and bought a few slices of bacon,
half a dozen eggs, a quarter of a pound of cheap tea,
and some salt.
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