I answered that I was, and that I had no other way to go. With that I started on.
"Hold on," he said. "If you are going to walk that long way you had better come in and have some breakfast."
You may rest assured that I did not wait for a second invitation, for about that time I was as hungry as I had ever been in my life.
While we were eating breakfast the farmer turned to his oldest daughter and said:
"Martha, where is St. Louis?"
She told him it was in Missouri, and one of the largest towns in the South or West. "Our geography tells lots about it," she said.
I thought this was about the best meal I had ever eaten in my life, and after it was over I offered to pay for it, but the kind- hearted old man refused to take anything, saying: "Keep your money, my boy. You may need it before you get back. And on your return, stop and stay with me all night, and tell us all about St. Louis."
After thanking them, I took my little bundle, bade them good-bye, and was on my journey again. I have always regretted that I did not learn this good man's name, but I was in something of a hurry just then, for I feared that Mr. Drake might get on my trail and follow me and take me back, and I had no pressing inclination to meet old Hulda again.
I plodded along for many days, now and then looking back for Mr. Drake, but not anxious to see him; rather the reverse.
