It was well on towards evening when Sandy's four horse team, with a
load of men from the woods, came swinging round the curves of the
mountain-road and down the street. A gay crowd they were with their
bright, brown faces and hearty voices; and in ten minutes the whole
street seemed alive with lumbermen--they had a faculty of spreading
themselves so. After night fell the miners came down 'done up slick,'
for this was a great occasion, and they must be up to it. The manager
appeared in evening dress; but this was voted 'too giddy' by the
majority.
As Graeme and I passed up to the Black Rock Hotel, in the large
store-room of which the ball was to be held, we met old man Nelson
looking very grave.
'Going, Nelson, aren't you?' I said.
'Yes,' he answered slowly; 'I'll drop in, though I don't like the look
of things much.'
'What's the matter, Nelson?' asked Graeme cheerily. 'There's no funeral
on.'
'Perhaps not,' replied Nelson, 'but I wish Mr. Craig were home.' And
then he added, 'There's Idaho and Slavin together, and you may bet the
devil isn't far off.
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