"Why, a plumb dandy dance; reg'lar high-steppin' outfit; mucha baille; best thing ever was in this settlement."
"I'm curious to know where the ladies will come from," said Franklin.
"Don't you never worry," rejoined Curly. "They's plenty o' women-folks. Why, there's the section boss, his wife — you know her — she does the washin' for most everybody. There's Nora, Sam's girl, the head waiter; an' Mary, the red-headed girl; an' Kitty, the littlest waiter girl; an' the new grocery man's wife; an' Hank Peterson's wife, from down to his ranch. Oh, there'll be plenty o' ladies, don't you never doubt. Why, say, Sam, he told me, last time he went down to Plum Centre, he was goin' to ask Major Buford an' his wife, an' the gal that's stayin' with them — tall gal, fine looker — why, Sam, he said he would ast them, an' maybe they'd come up to the dance — who knows? Sam, he says that gal ain't no common sort — whole outfit's a puzzler to him, he says, Sam does."
"And when does this all happen, Curly, boy?" asked Battersleigh.
"Why, night after to-morrer night, to the big stone hotel. They're goin' to clean out the dinin'-room for us. Three niggers, two fiddlers, an' a 'cordion — oh, we'll have music all right! You'll be over, of course?"
"That we will, me boy," responded Battersleigh. "It's mesilf will inthrojuce Captain Franklin to his first haythin ball. Our life on the claim's elevatin', for it leaves time for thought, but it is a bit slow at times. An' will we come? Man, we'll be the first."
"Well, then, so long, fellers," said Curly. "I got to be movin' along a little. See you at the dance, sure."
"Now, as to a ball, Battersleigh," said Franklin, argumentatively, when they were alone, "how can I go? I've not the first decent thing to wear to such a place."
"Tut, tut!" said Battersleigh. "There speaks the coxcombry of youth. I make no doubt ye'd be the best-dressed man there if ye'd go as ye stand now. But what about Batty? On me honour, Ned, I've never been so low in kit as I am this season here, not since I was lance sergeant in the Tinth. You're able to pull out your blue uniform, I know, an' b'gad! the uniform of an officer is full dress the worrld over! Look at Batty, half mufti, and his allowance a bit late, me boy. But does Batty despair? By no means. 'Tis at times like this that gaynius rises to the occasion."
Franklin grinned amiably. "Thank you for the suggestion about the uniform, at least," he said. "Now, if we can fix you up as well."
Battersleigh came and stood before him, waving a long forefinger.
"Listen to me, Ned," he began, "an' I'll lay down to ye a few of the fundamental rules of conduct and appar'l.
"A gintleman never lies; a gintleman never uses unseemly haste; a gintleman is always ready for love and ready for war — for, Ned, me boy, without love and war we'd miss the only two joys of life. Thereto, a gintleman must shoot, fence, ride, dance, and do anny of 'em like a gintleman. For outwardly appar'l, seein' him clane within, me boy, a gintleman should make the best of what he finds about him. I have slept sweet in turban or burnous in me time. Dress is nothing that we may always control. But if ye found yeself a bit low in kit, as Batty is this day, what would ye say, Ned, me boy, was the first salient — what is the first essintial in the dress of a gintleman, me boy?"
"Linen," said Franklin, "or is it gloves?"
"Ned," said Battersleigh solemnly, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "ye're the dearest boy in the world. Ye're fit to be lance sergeant yersilf in the ould Tinth Rigiment. Right ye are, quite right. White, white, me boy, is the first colour of a gintleman! White, to show the integrity of his honour and the claneness of his merit roll. Shure, he must have his weapons, and his horse — for a gintleman always rides — and his hat and gloves are matter of course. But, first of all, essintial to him as the soap and crash, is white, sir — yes, white! A touch of white at neck and wrist anny gintleman must show who presints himself at a ball."
"But, now, how?"
Battersleigh pointed a long finger at Franklin, then turned it upon himself, tapping with import upon his forehead. "Look at me, at Batty," he said. "Here is where gaynius comes in, me friend. I may be far from the home that bore me — God prosper them that knows it now! — and I may be a bit behind with me allowance; but never yet was Batty without the arms and the appar'l of a gintleman. Ned, come with me."
Grasping his companion by the arm, Battersleigh stepped outside the house, and strode off with long steps across the prairie. "Come," he said, as one who commanded alike secrecy and despatch. Humouring him, Franklin followed for a quarter of a mile. Then, bending his gaze in the direction of the march, he saw afar, fluttering like a signal of distress in the engulfing sea about, a little whipping flag of white, which was upheld by the gaunt hand of a ragged sage bush. This, as he drew near, he discovered to be a portion of an old flour sack, washed clean and left bleaching in the sun and wind until it had assumed a colour a shade more pure than its original dinginess.
Battersleigh made dramatic approach. "There!" said he, pointing with triumphant dignity to the fluttering rag.
"Yes, I see," said Franklin, "but what do you want of this piece of sack?"
"Sack!" cried Battersleigh, offended. "'Sack!' say you, but I say, 'White!' Look ye, the history of a man is something sacred. 'Sack!' say you, but I say, 'White!' A strip of this at me neck and at me wrist; me hat, an' me sabre and me ridin' whip — I r-ride up to the dure. I dismount. I throw me rein to the man. I inter the hall and place me hat and gloves in order as they should be. I appear — Battersleigh, a gintleman, appears, standin' in the dure, the eyes of all upon him. I bow, salutin', standin' there, alone, short on allowance, but nate and with me own silf-respect. Battersleigh, a bit low in kit and in allowance, with white at neck and wrist, bows, and he says, 'Ladies and gintlemen, Battersleigh is here!'"
CHAPTER XIV THE FIRST BALL AT ELLISVILLE
The wife of the section boss sat in conscious dignity, as became a leader of society. She was gowned in purple, newly starched, and upon her bosom rose and fell the cross that Jerry gave her long ago. Below her in order of station came Nora, the head waiter, and the red-headed waiter girl, and the littlest waiter girl, and the wife of the new grocery man. These sat silent and unhappy at one part of the long row of chairs that lined the side of the hall. Opposite to them, equally silent and equally unhappy, sat a little row of men. Jerry, the section boss, made no claim to social distinction. He was a simple, plain, hard-working man, whose main concern was in his work, and whose great pride was in the social triumphs of his wife. Jerry was short and broad and sturdy, and his face was very, very red. Near to Jerry sat the new grocery man, and Curly the cowboy, and Del Hickman, another cowboy, and several other cowboys, and Sam, the stage-driver. They were all silent and very miserable. The lights of the big hanging kerosene lamps flickered and cast great shadows, showing the women all with heads very high and backs straight and stiff, the men in various attitudes of jellyfish, with heads hanging and feet screwed under their chairs in search of moral support.
It was the beginning of the ball. These were the first arrivals. At the head of the hall, far off, sat three musicians, negroes alleged to play violins and an accordion, and by that merit raised to a bad eminence. Gloomy, haughty, superior, these gazed sternly out before them, ready for the worst. Now and then they leaned over the one toward another, and ventured some grim, ghastly remark. Once the leader, an old and gray-haired man, was heard to utter, inadvertently above his breath, the ominous expression, "Yass, indeed!" All in all, the situation was bodeful in the extreme. There was no speech other than that above noted.
After a vast hiatus the door at the main entrance was pulled cautiously open, a little at a time. Evidently some one was looking in. The consciousness of this caused two or three men to shuffle their feet a trifle upon the floor, as though they expected the death march soon to begin. The littlest waiter girl, unable to stand the nervous strain, tittered audibly, which caused Nora, the head waiter, to glare at her through her glasses. At length the door opened, and two figures entered affrightedly, those