AT A COUNTRY DANCE.
That night Merriwell and Diamond went out to stroll around the
village. Forest was tired, and he had gone to bed early. Browning
and Dunnerwust also turned in shortly after supper, and Hodge, in
one of his unsociable moods, was “flocking by himself.”
The sound of music from a building attracted Frank and Jack, and,
on inquiring, they learned that a public dance was taking place
there.
“Let’s go in,” laughed Merry.
Diamond drew back.
“I don’t think I care to go in there,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Think of the class of people we are sure to find there.”
Frank laughed.
“My dear boy,” he said, “that is the very reason why I wish to go
in. It’s life, and I like to study life wherever I find it.”
Still Jack hesitated.
“Think of the rabble,” he said. “If we go there, we put ourselves
on a level with that crowd.”
“Not necessarily. We can drop in and look on. We need not dance. I
am going, whether you do or not.”
“Oh! well, I shall stand by you, Merry; but something tells me we
had better keep out of that place.”
Laughing at this, Frank linked his arm with Jack’s, and they
climbed the stairs to the hall, paid the price of admission, and
went in.
The hall was not large, and it was well filled. A contra dance,
“The Lady of the Lake,” was taking place. The hall was poorly
lighted with kerosene lamps. On a small stage at one end of the
hall sat the musicians, three in number, a fiddler, a cornet
player, and a chuck-headed youth who was pounding out chords on an
antiquated piano that was sadly in need of tuning. The harmony of
the music was not all that could have been desired, but what they
lacked in harmony the musicians made up in noise and energy. The
fiddler was sawing away at his instrument as if it were a stick of
wood, the cornet player was purple in the face from his exertions,
and the youth at the piano thumped the keys as if he were driving
spikes.
Frank and Jack found a chance to sit down on a long bench that ran
along the wall, and then they surveyed the remarkable scene.
The floor was almost crowded with dancers, and they were the
strangest set Diamond had ever beheld. The female portion was
attired in everything from a faded silk several years out of style
to a brilliant pink calico with flowing sleeves and blue trimmings.
The ladies wore their hair in “frizzes,” and bangs, and coils, and
flowing ringlets, as suited their fancy. One old lady between fifty
and sixty was prancing up and down the center with her partner in a
kittenish manner, grinning in a fashion that betrayed the fact that
she was minus several teeth, although she was well supplied with
corkscrew curls, which bobbed and flapped about her face.
Some of the “gentlemen” wore their Sunday best, with a “boiled
shirt” and paper collar. In many cases the paper collars were
beginning to wilt, and, as he sat down, Merry saw one young man
tear his off ruthlessly and fling it down on the floor, where it
struck with a spat like unto that of a mud cake hurled against the
side of a shed.
Not a few of the male dancers wore rough, every-day clothes and
cow-hide boots. Some men were frisking around in moccasins, one of
them, being uncomfortably warm, having removed his coat and vest
and let down one suspender.
There were two red-shirted men in the hall who wore long-legged
boots, into the tops of which their trousers were tucked. One man
had a full black beard and a swarthy face. He was nearly six feet
tall, but was so stocky that he did not look his height by three
inches. His hands were big and thick, and his general appearance
was that of a man possessing enormous strength. His eyes were
red and his face flushed, while his manner told that he had been
drinking. He was dancing with the prettiest girl in the hall.
The other red-shirted individual was wiry, slender and dark, with
eyes set near together and seeming shifty and restless.
Merriwell immediately set him down as a French-Canadian.
Frank laughed softly as he watched the musicians and the dancers.
“What are you laughing at?” muttered Diamond.
“The whole business,” answered Frank. “By Jove! this is a circus!
Aren’t you glad you came?”
“Don’t know that I am,” came sulkily from Jack.
“Well, I am,” declared Merry. “Wouldn’t have missed this for
anything. I have seen all kinds of dances, but I think this takes
the first prize.”
“Cattle!” growled Diamond.
Immediately Frank grew sober.
“I will guarantee there are brave men and true here,” he said,
seriously. “Their ways are rough, but their hearts are all right.”
“Only cattle could enjoy anything like this,” declared Jack,
stiffly.
“You are altogether too narrow, my boy. Look at the face of that
girl with the big red-shirted fellow. Isn’t she pretty? By Jove!
Dress her in fine clothes, possibly give her a few lessons in
refinement, and she would put to blush some of your city belles.
Why, her face is really handsome!”
Jack stared at the girl in silence for some moments, and then he
said:
“She is out of place here.”
“She seems to be enjoying it.”
“That is what surprises me,” confessed the Virginian; “for I am
positive that that girl is far above her surroundings. Why, she is
positively handsome!”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Frank. “Now you are growing enthusiastic.
That’s more than I expected of you.”
“But I know the girl is out of her element. She is young, too. She
is innocent! Her face shows that. It’s a shame!”
Merriwell laughed again, but Diamond scowled and watched the girl,
who interested him in a wonderful manner. After a little the
Virginian shook himself angrily and looked away.
“Nothing but a country girl,” he thought. “I mustn’t let myself
become interested in her.”
The dance came to a sudden termination. Some of the “gentlemen”
escorted their partners from the floor, and some left them on the
spot. Those who were left did not seem to mind it.
The big red-shirted man with the pretty girl walked with her to a
seat and sat down beside her. By chance they were close to Diamond,
and Jack heard him say:
“Ef yer dance with Bill ter-night, Jennie, thar’ll be trouble. I
don’ stan’ ter see that feller shinin’ up ter you.”
The girl gave her head a toss.
“I do not think you have a right to say whom I shall dance with,”
she retorted, and the Virginian was surprised to discover that her
voice was not harsh, but was soft and musical, in keeping with her
pretty face.
The man showed anger.
“I come fifteen mile ter be here at this dance,” he muttered,
fiercely; “fer I knew you’d be here, and I knew he’d be here. You
know what I’ve done, an’ your dad says we’ll be married in the
fall. Now, I want yer ter keep away from Bill. Ef ye don’t, it’ll
be ther worse fer Bill. That’s all.”
Then he got up and walked away.
Jack’s hot blood was beginning to boil, for he was not accustomed
to hearing a man talk to a lady in such a manner, and it stirred
the chivalry of his nature. He felt like offering the girl his
protection, but he had not been introduced to her.
“Next dance is a plain quadrille,” called the fiddler.
Then there was a rush for partners, who were dragged upon the floor
in a most unceremonious manner.
Frank Merriwell caught the eye of a good-looking girl, smiled at
her, received a smile in return, and then, seeing there was no
floor manager, lost no time in introducing himself and asking her
to dance.
Jack was left alone, with the prettiest girl in the hall sitting
near him.
A young man in good clothes and looking rather intelligent
approached the girl and said:
“Aren’t you going to dance with me once, Jennie?”
“Oh! Bill, I don’t dare to!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t dare?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He is here, and he says----”
“I don’t care what he says!” exclaimed the young man, fiercely.
“I’m not afraid of him!”
“But I am, and I will not dance.”
It was useless for Bill to coax, for she remained obstinate. At
last he went away, attempting, out of politeness, to conceal his
anger, although Jack could see he was furious.
The girl slyly pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and all Jack’s
sympathy was aroused.
“I’d like to hit that big red-shirted brute with a club!” he
thought.
The girl’s handkerchief slipped down to the floor. He picked it up
and returned it to her in his politest manner.
A smile broke over her face, like a burst of sunshine through a
cloud.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“You are very welcome, miss,” murmured Jack, who was dazzled by the
whiteness of her teeth and her rare smile.
“Here--one more couple here,” called a voice, as a young man came
rushing round the hall. “Fill up this set--you two. Come on and
fill it out.”
He was speaking to Jack and the pretty girl. Diamond gave her a
glance, and she smiled again.
“Shall we dance?” he asked.
She bowed. He rose instantly, and she accepted his arm. Frank
Merriwell nearly “dropped dead” when he saw the haughty Virginian
lead the girl onto the floor.