The old peasant came in
with a tray on which was a dish of smoking meat, dark bread and
potatoes and a pot of coffee.
"Now, since you are old friends I shall leave you," said the old
man smiling, as he patted both young Americans on the shoulder.
"But Monsieur Reade knows how to call me if I am wanted. Good
rest and stout hearts, young gentlemen!"
"We'll feast a bit!" cried Prescott eagerly.
"You will," Tom corrected. "I've had my evening meal and am not
hungry. Eat before the candle burns out, and while you do so
I will fix the ventilator for the night. When you have eaten
we can turn in on the bed, for we can talk there as well as when
sitting in the dark." Dick fell to ravenously on the food and
coffee, while Tom attended to ventilation by removing a loose
brick from a chimney, half of which was in this blind attic.
"We must pay this peasant well," Dick proposed, when he had nearly
finished the meal, "for I'll wager he is not rich."
"I can pay him all right," declared Reade, striking a hand against
his waist-line.
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