Kettles were hung above the fires, and skillets hissed on the coals.
The horses, tied to their feed-boxes, were stamping and grinding
their feed in content, and the gray lifted up his voice to neigh at
the whole collection as Grandma Padgett stopped just behind Zene. All
the camp dogs leaped up the 'pike together, and Boswell and Johnson
met them in a neutral way while showing the teeth of defence. To Boswell
and Johnson as well as to their betters, this big and well-protected
encampment had an inviting look, provided the campers were not to be
shunned.
A man came up the 'pike side through the rain and kicked some of the
dogs aside.
"Hullo," said he most cheerfully. "Want to put up?"
"What is it?" inquired Zene cautiously. He then craned his neck
around to look at Grandma Padgett, whose spectacles glared seriously
at the man.
This hospitable traveller wore a red shirt and a slouched hat, and
had his trousers tucked in his boots. He pulled off his hat to shake
the rain away, and showed bushy hair and a smiling bearded face. No
weather could hurt him. He was ready for anything.
"Light down," he exclaimed. "Plenty of room over there if you want
it."
"Who's over there?" inquired Zene.
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