ed loaves--for
they were of various forms, according to the vessels in which they had
been moulded--we found that all together weighed nearly an hundred
pounds! This would be enough for all our wants--at least, until the
spring, when we purposed returning again to our grand store-house among
the sugar-maples."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE STUMP-TREE AND THE BREAD-PINE.

"That evening, as we sat around the supper table, my wife announced that
the last grain of our coffee was in the pot. This was sad news to all
of us. Of the little luxuries that we had brought with us from Saint
Louis, our coffee had held out longest; and a cup of this aromatic
beverage had often cheered us during our toilsome journey across the
prairie desert. Often, too, since our arrival in the valley, had it
given a relish to our homely meals.

"`Well, then,' said I, by way of reply to the announcement, `we must
learn to do without it. We have now the materials for making soup; what
care we for coffee? How many poor people would be glad to be surrounded
with luxuries, as we are! Here we have venison of different kinds; we
can have beavers' tails whenever we want them. There are fish, too in
the lake and stream; there are hares and squirrels, which we shall trap
in abundance, by-and-by; and, in addition to all, we shall dine often
upon ruffed grouse and roast turkey. I wonder, with all these luxuries
around us, who is not content?'

"`But, papa,' said Harry, taking up the discourse, `in Virginia I have
often seen our black folks make coffee out of Indian corn. It is not
bad, I assure you. I have drunk it there, and thought it very good.
Have not you, Cudjo?'

"`Dat berry coffee dis chile hab drunk, Massa Harry.'

"`Now, papa?'

"`Well, Harry, what of it?'

"`Why should we not use that--the Indian corn, I mean--for coffee?'

"`Why, Harry,' said I, `you surely do not reflect upon what you are
talking about. We have a far worse want than coffee, and that is this
very Indian corn you speak of--to make bread. Could I only get a supply
of that, I should think very little about coffee or any other beverage.
Unfortunately there is not a grain of corn within many an hundred miles
of where we are now sitting.'

"`But there is, papa; I know where there is at least a quart of it; and
within less than an hundred yards of us, too.'

"`Come,' said I, `my boy, you have mistaken some useless seed for corn.
No corn grows in this valley, I