"The boss says you'd better come to the cook-top and get somethin' to
eat, young feller." That was all. He jerked his head in the direction
of the long, low tent in the corner of the lot and started off. David
followed, sharply conscious of a revived hunger.
A score of men were seated at the long tables, gulping hot coffee and
bolting their food. From the kitchen beyond came the crackling of
fats, the odor of frying things and the aroma of strong coffee. The
clatter of tin pans and cups, the rattle of pewter knives and forks
and the commands of hungry men to the surly lads who served them
assailed the refined ears of the young Virginian as he stopped
irresolutely at the mouth of the tent.
"Set down here, kid," said his escort, pointing to a place on the
plank, stepping over it himself to take his seat at the board. If the
stranger expected a greeting or comment on his appearance among these
men, he was happily disappointed. They looked at him with sullen,
indifferent eyes and went on bolting the breakfast. Some of them were
half naked; all of them were dirty and reeking with perspiration.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97