Devils Ford | Page 6

had washed, and one or two had shaved.
But the result was startling.
Through some fortunate coincidence in size, Dick Mattingly was the
only one who had achieved an entire new suit. But it was of funereal
black cloth, and although relieved at one extremity by a pair of high
riding boots, in which his too short trousers were tucked, and at the
other by a tall white hat, and cravat of aggressive yellow, the effect was
depressing. In agreeable contrast, his brother, Maryland Joe, was attired
in a thin fawn- colored summer overcoat, lightly worn open, so as to
show the unstarched bosom of a white embroidered shirt, and a pair of
nankeen trousers and pumps.
The Kearney brothers had divided a suit between them, the elder
wearing a tightly-fitting, single-breasted blue frock-coat and a pair of
pink striped cotton trousers, while the younger candidly displayed the
trousers of his brother's suit, as a harmonious change to a shining black
alpaca coat and crimson neckerchief. Fairfax, who brought up the rear,
had, with characteristic unselfishness, contented himself with a French
workman's blue blouse and a pair of white duck trousers. Had they
shown the least consciousness of their finery, or of its absurdity, they
would have seemed despicable. But only one expression beamed on the
five sunburnt and shining faces--a look of unaffected boyish
gratification and unrestricted welcome.
They halted before Mr. Carr and his daughters, simultaneously
removed their various and remarkable head coverings, and waited until
Fairfax advanced and severally presented them. Jessie Carr's
half-frightened smile took refuge in the trembling shadows of her dark
lashes; Christie Carr stiffened slightly, and looked straight before her.
"We reckoned--that is--we intended to meet you and the young ladies at
the grade," said Fairfax, reddening a little as he endeavored to conceal
his too ready slang, "and save you from trapesing--from dragging
yourselves up grade again to your house."
"Then there IS a house?" said Jessie, with an alarming frank laugh of
relief, that was, however, as frankly reflected in the boyishly

appreciative eyes of the young men.
"Such as it is," responded Fairfax, with a shade of anxiety, as he
glanced at the fresh and pretty costumes of the young women, and
dubiously regarded the two Saratoga trunks resting hopelessly on the
veranda. "I'm afraid it isn't much, for what you're accustomed to. But,"
he added more cheerfully, "it will do for a day or two, and perhaps
you'll give us the pleasure of showing you the way there now."
The procession was quickly formed. Mr. Carr, alive only to the actual
business that had brought him there, at once took possession of Fairfax,
and began to disclose his plans for the working of the mine,
occasionally halting to look at the work already done in the ditches, and
to examine the field of his future operations. Fairfax, not displeased at
being thus relieved of a lighter attendance on Mr. Carr's daughters,
nevertheless from time to time cast a paternal glance backwards upon
their escorts, who had each seized a handle of the two trunks, and were
carrying them in couples at the young ladies' side. The occupation did
not offer much freedom for easy gallantry, but no sign of discomfiture
or uneasiness was visible in the grateful faces of the young men. The
necessity of changing hands at times with their burdens brought a
corresponding change of cavalier at the lady's side, although it was
observed that the younger Kearney, for the sake of continuing a
conversation with Miss Jessie, kept his grasp of the handle nearest the
young lady until his hand was nearly cut through, and his arm worn out
by exhaustion.
"The only thing on wheels in the camp is a mule wagon, and the mules
are packin' gravel from the river this afternoon," explained Dick
Mattingly apologetically to Christie, "or we'd have toted--I mean
carried--you and your baggage up to the shant--the--your house. Give
us two weeks more, Miss Carr--only two weeks to wash up our work
and realize--and we'll give you a pair of 2.40 steppers and a skeleton
buggy to meet you at the top of the hill and drive you over to the cabin.
Perhaps you'd prefer a regular carriage; some ladies do. And a nigger
driver. But what's the use of planning anything? Afore that time comes
we'll have run you up a house on the hill, and you shall pick out the

spot. It wouldn't take long--unless you preferred brick. I suppose we
could get brick over from La Grange, if you cared for it, but it would
take longer. If you could put up for a time with something of stained
glass and a mahogany veranda--"
In spite of her cold indignation, and the fact that she could understand
only a