As soon as I had swallowed supper, I hastened to place myself _en
rapport_ with the landlord of the hostelry--whose name I had ascertained
to be "Kipp," or "_Colonel_ Kipp," as his guests called him. Though I
had no intention of proceeding farther that night, I was desirous of
obtaining some information, about the whereabout of my new estate, with
such other facts in relation to it, as might be collected in Swampville.
The landlord would be the most likely person to give me the desired
intelligence. This distinguished individual I encountered soon after in
the verandah--seated upon a raw-hide rocking-chair, with his feet
elevated some six inches above the level of his nose, and resting across
the balustrade of the railing--beyond which his huge horse-skin boots
protruded a full half yard into the street. But that I had been already
made aware of the fact, I should have had some difficulty in
reconciling the portentous title of "colonel" with the exceedingly
unmilitary-looking personage before me--a tall lopsided tobacco-chewer,
who, at short intervals, of about half a minute each, projected the
juice in copious squirts into the street, sending it clean over the toes
of his boots!
When I first set eyes upon the colonel, he was in the centre of a circle
of tooth-pickers, who had just issued from the supper-room. These were
falling off one by one; and, noticing their defection, I waited for an
opportunity to speak to the colonel alone. This, after a short time,
offered itself.
The dignified gentleman took not the slightest notice of me as I
approached; nor until I had got so near, as to leave no doubt upon his
mind that a conversation was intended. Then, edging slightly round, and
drawing in the boots, he made a half-face towards me--still, however,
keeping fast to his chair.
"The army, sir, I prezoom?" interrogatively began Mr Kipp.
"No," answered I, imitating his laconism of speech. "No!"
"I have been in the service. I have just left it."
"Oh--ah! From Mexico, then, I prezoom?"
"Yes."
"Business in Swampville?"
"Why, yes, Mr Kipp."
"I am usooally called _kurnel_ here," interrupted the backwoods
_militario_, with a bland smile, as if half deprecating the title, and
that it was forced upon him.
"Of course," continued he, "you, sir, bein' a strenger--"
"I beg your pardon, _Colonel_ Kipp: I _am_ a stranger to your _city_,
and of course--"
"Don't signify a dump, sir," interrupted he, rather good-humouredly, in
return for the show of deference I had made, as also, perhaps for my
politeness in having styled Swampville a city. "Business in Swampville,
you say?"
"Yes," I replied; and, seeing it upon his lips to inquire the nature of
my business--which I did not wish to make known just then--I forestalled
him by the question: "Do you chance to know such a place as Holt's
Clearing?"
"Chance to know such a place as Holt's Clearin'?"
"Yes; Holt's Clearing."
"Wal, there _air_ such a place."
"Is it distant?"
"If you mean Hick Holt's Clearin', it's a leetle better'n six miles from
here. He squats on Mud Crik."
"There's a squatter upon it, then?"
"On Holt's Clearin'? Wal, I shed rayther say there _air a squatter_
on't, an' no mistake."
"His name is Holt is it not?"
"That same individooal."
"Do you think I could procure a guide in Swampville--some one who could
show me the way to Holt's Clearing?"
"Do I think so? Possible you might. D'ye see that ar case in the
coon-cap?" The speaker looked, rather than pointed, to the young fellow
of the buckskin shirt; who, outside the verandah, was now standing by
the side of a very sorry-looking steed. I replied in the affirmative.
"Wal, I reckon he kin show you the way to Holt's Clearin'. He's another
o' them Mud Crik squatters. He's just catchin' up his critter to go
that way."
This I hailed as a fortunate circumstance. If the young hunter lived
near the clearing I was in search of, perhaps he could give me all the
information I required; and his frank open countenance led me to believe
he would not withhold it. It occurred to me, therefore, to make a
slight change in my programme. It was yet _early_--for supper in the
backwoods is what is elsewhere known as "tea." The sun was still an
hour or so above the horizon. My horse had made but a light journey;
and nine miles more would be nothing to him. All at once, then, I
altered my intention of sleeping at the hotel; and determined, if the
young hunter would accept me as a travelling companion, to proceed along
with him to Mud Creek. Whether I should find a bed there, never entered
into my calculation. I had my great-sleeved cloak strapped upon the
cantle of my saddle; and with that for a covering, and the saddle itself
for a pillow, I had made shift on many a night, more tempestuous than
that promised to be.
I was about turning away to speak to the young man, when I was recalled
by an exclamation from the landlord:--"I guess," said he, in a
half-bantering way, "you hain't told me your business yet?"
"No," I answered deferentially, "I have not."
"What on airth's takin' you to Holt's Clearin'?"
"That, Mr Kipp--I beg pardon--_Colonel_ Kipp--is a private matter."
"Private and particular, eh?"
"Very."
"Oh, then, I guess, you'd better keep it to yourself."
"That is precisely my intention," I rejoined, turning on my heel, and
stepping out of the verandah.
The young hunter was just buckling the girth of his saddle. As I
approached him, I saw that he was smiling. He had overheard the
concluding part of the conversation; and looked as if pleased at the way
in which I had bantered the "colonel," who, as I afterwards learnt from
him, was the grand swaggerer of Swampville. A word was sufficient. He
at once acceded to my request, frankly, if not in the most elegant
phraseology, "I'll be pleased to show ye the way to Holt's Clarin'. My
own road goes jest that way, till within a squ'll's jump o't."
"Thank you: I shall not keep you waiting."
I re-entered the hotel to pay for my entertainment, and give orders for
the saddling of my horse. It was evident that I had offended the
landlord by my brusque behaviour. I ascertained this by the _amount_ of
my bill, as well as by the fact of being permitted to saddle for myself.
Even the naked "nigger," did not make his appearance at the stable.
Not much cared I. I had drawn the girth too often, to be disconcerted
by such petty annoyance; and, in five minutes after, I was in the saddle
and ready for the road. Having joined my companion in the street, we
rode off from the inhospitable _caravanserai_ of the Jackson Hotel--
leaving its warlike landlord to chew his tobacco, and such reflections
as my remarks had given rise to.