The Complete Works of Mark Twain - Mark Twain

Скачать книгу

Vice-President, crossing his legs, pulling his wide-awake down over his forehead, causing a passing chicken to hop quickly one side by the accuracy of his aim, and speaking with senatorial deliberation, “I think I have. I’ve been here twenty-five years, and dash, dash my dash to dash, if I haven’t entertained twenty-five separate and distinct earthquakes, one a year. The niggro is the only person who can stand the fever and ague of this region.”

      The convalescence of the engineer was the signal for breaking up quarters at St. Louis, and the young fortune-hunters started up the river in good spirits. It was only the second time either of them had been upon a Mississippi steamboat, and nearly everything they saw had the charm of novelty. Col. Sellers was at the landing to bid them goodbye.

      “I shall send you up that basket of champagne by the next boat; no, no; no thanks; you’ll find it not bad in camp,” he cried out as the plank was hauled in. “My respects to Thompson. Tell him to sight for Stone’s. Let me know, Mr. Brierly, when you are ready to locate; I’ll come over from Hawkeye. Goodbye.”

      And the last the young fellows saw of the Colonel, he was waving his hat, and beaming prosperity and good luck.

      The voyage was delightful, and was not long enough to become monotonous. The travelers scarcely had time indeed to get accustomed to the splendors of the great saloon where the tables were spread for meals, a marvel of paint and gilding, its ceiling hung with fancifully cut tissue-paper of many colors, festooned and arranged in endless patterns. The whole was more beautiful than a barber’s shop. The printed bill of fare at dinner was longer and more varied, the proprietors justly boasted, than that of any hotel in New York. It must have been the work of an author of talent and imagination, and it surely was not his fault if the dinner itself was to a certain extent a delusion, and if the guests got something that tasted pretty much the same whatever dish they ordered; nor was it his fault if a general flavor of rose in all the dessert dishes suggested that they had passed through the barber’s saloon on their way from the kitchen.

      The travelers landed at a little settlement on the left bank, and at once took horses for the camp in the interior, carrying their clothes and blankets strapped behind the saddles. Harry was dressed as we have seen him once before, and his long and shining boots attracted not a little the attention of the few persons they met on the road, and especially of the bright faced wenches who lightly stepped along the highway, picturesque in their colored kerchiefs, carrying light baskets, or riding upon mules and balancing before them a heavier load.

      Harry sang fragments of operas and talked about their fortune. Philip even was excited by the sense of freedom and adventure, and the beauty of the landscape. The prairie, with its new grass and unending acres of brilliant flowers — chiefly the innumerable varieties of phlox — bore the look of years of cultivation, and the occasional open groves of white oaks gave it a park-like appearance. It was hardly unreasonable to expect to see at any moment, the gables and square windows of an Elizabethan mansion in one of the well kept groves.

      Towards sunset of the third day, when the young gentlemen thought they ought to be near the town of Magnolia, near which they had been directed to find the engineers’ camp, they descried a log house and drew up before it to enquire the way. Half the building was store, and half was dwelling house. At the door of the latter stood a negress with a bright turban on her head, to whom Philip called,

      “Can you tell me, auntie, how far it is to the town of Magnolia?”

      “Why, bress you chile,” laughed the woman, “you’s dere now.”

      It was true. This log house was the compactly built town, and all creation was its suburbs. The engineers’ camp was only two or three miles distant.

      “You’s boun’ to find it,” directed auntie, “if you don’t keah nuffin ‘bout de road, and go fo’ de sundown.”

      A brisk gallop brought the riders in sight of the twinkling light of the camp, just as the stars came out. It lay in a little hollow, where a small stream ran through a sparse grove of young white oaks. A half dozen tents were pitched under the trees, horses and oxen were corraled at a little distance, and a group of men sat on camp stools or lay on blankets about a bright fire. The twang of a banjo became audible as they drew nearer, and they saw a couple of negroes, from some neighboring plantation, “breaking down” a juba in approved style, amid the “hi, hi’s” of the spectators.

      Mr. Jeff Thompson, for it was the camp of this redoubtable engineer, gave the travelers a hearty welcome, offered them ground room in his own tent, ordered supper, and set out a small jug, a drop from which he declared necessary on account of the chill of the evening.

      “I never saw an Eastern man,” said Jeff, “who knew how to drink from a jug with one hand. It’s as easy as lying. So.” He grasped the handle with the right hand, threw the jug back upon his arm, and applied his lips to the nozzle. It was an act as graceful as it was simple. “Besides,” said Mr. Thompson, setting it down, “it puts every man on his honor as to quantity.”

      Early to turn in was the rule of the camp, and by nine o’clock everybody was under his blanket, except Jeff himself, who worked awhile at his table over his field-book, and then arose, stepped outside the tent door and sang, in a strong and not unmelodious tenor, the Star Spangled Banner from beginning to end. It proved to be his nightly practice to let off the unexpended steam of his conversational powers, in the words of this stirring song.

      It was a long time before Philip got to sleep. He saw the fire light, he saw the clear stars through the treetops, he heard the gurgle of the stream, the stamp of the horses, the occasional barking of the dog which followed the cook’s wagon, the hooting of an owl; and when these failed he saw Jeff, standing on a battlement, mid the rocket’s red glare, and heard him sing, “Oh, say, can you see?” It was the first time he had ever slept on the ground.

      CHAPTER XVII.

       Table of Contents

       — — ”We have view’d it,

       And measur’d it within all, by the scale

       The richest tract of land, love, in the kingdom!

       There will be made seventeen or eighteeen millions,

       Or more, as’t may be handled!”

      The Devil is an Ass.

      Nobody dressed more like an engineer than Mr. Henry Brierly. The completeness of his appointments was the envy of the corps, and the gay fellow himself was the admiration of the camp servants, axemen, teamsters and cooks.

      “I reckon you didn’t git them boots no wher’s this side o’ Sent Louis?” queried the tall Missouri youth who acted as commissary’s assistant.

      “No, New York.”

      “Yas, I’ve heern o’ New York,” continued the butternut lad, attentively studying each item of Harry’s dress, and endeavoring to cover his design with interesting conversation. “‘N there’s Massachusetts.”,

      “It’s not far off.”

      “I’ve heern Massachusetts was a — — -of a place. Les, see, what state’s Massachusetts in?”

      “Massachusetts,” kindly replied Harry, “is in the state of Boston.”

      “Abolish’n wan’t it? They must a cost right smart,” referring to the boots.

      Harry shouldered his rod and went to the field, tramped over the prairie by day, and figured up results at night, with the utmost cheerfulness and industry, and plotted the line on the profile paper, without, however, the least idea of engineering practical or theoretical. Perhaps there was not a great deal of scientific knowledge in the entire corps, nor was very much needed. They were making, what is called a preliminary survey, and the chief object of a preliminary

Скачать книгу