PAGE 5
The Ball
by
“I tell ye, Henry,” said the old man, as he transferred a duck to his plate and proceeded to carve it with the aptness of one who had practical knowledge of its anatomy, “I tell ye, Henry, the birds be gittin’ fat; and I sartinly hope the flight this fall will be a good un. Don’t be bashful, Lad, in yer eatin’,” he continued, as he transferred half of the bird to his companion’s plate, “ye haven’t got the size of some about the waist, but yer length is in yer favor, and if ye will only straighten up, and Henry don’t gin’ out, there’ll be leetle left on this eend of the table when we have satisfied our hunger. I don’t know when the cravin’ of natur’ has been stronger within me then it is this minit; and if nothin’ happens, and ye stand by me, the Saranacers will remember our visit for days after we be gone. It isn’t often that I feed in the settlements, or get a taste of their cookin’, but the man who basted these birds knowed what he was doin’, and the fire has given them jest the right tech; and the morsels actilly melt in yer mouth.”
The Trapper’s feelings were evidently not peculiar to himself. And the spirit of feasting was abroad. The eating was such as would astonish the dwellers in cities. Wit flashed across the table in answer to wit. Mirth rippled from end to end of the room. Laughter roared and rollicked adown the hall. Jokes were cracked. Fun exploded. Plates rattled. Cups and glasses touched and rang. Even the waiters, as they came and went in their happy service, caught the infection of the surrounding happiness, and their laughter mingled with that of the guests.
The great pine branches and the evergreens nailed against the corner posts and wreathed into festoons along the walls shook and trembled in the uproar as to the passage of winds along their native hills. And the huge buck’s heads, whose antlers were tied with rosettes and streaming ribbons, lost the staring look of their great artificial eyes and seemed as they gazed out through the interlacing boughs of cedar and balsam as if life had returned to them, and they once more were animate.
In about an hour the company streamed back into the parlor, with a mood even livelier than that which had characterized the early hours of the occasion. Their minds were in the state of highest action, and their bodies needed but the opportunity for rapid motion. Even the Lad had caught the infection of the surrounding liveliness, for his eyes and face glowed with the light of quickened animation.
“Have ye got any jigs in that fiddle, Lad?” said the Trapper; “Can ye twist any thing out of yer instrument that will set the feet travellin’? It seems to me that the young folks here want shakin’ up a leetle; and a leetle of the old-fashioned dancin’ will help ’em settle the vittles. Can ye liven up, Lad, and give ’em a tune that will set ’em whirlin’?”
The only reply of the Lad was a motion of the bow; but the motion was effective, for it sent a torrent of notes into the air, which thrilled through the body and tingled along the nerves like successive electric shocks. The old Trapper fairly bounded into the air; and when he struck the floor his feet were flying. Nor was he alone; the jig had started a dozen on the instant; and the floor rattled and rang with the tap of toe and heel.
“Henry,” said the old Trapper, “hold on to me or I shall sartinly make a fool of myself. The Lad is ticklin’ me from head to foot, and my toes are snappin’ inside of the moccasins. Lord, who’d a thought that the blood in the veins of a man whose head is whitenin’ could be sot leapin’ as mine is doin’ at this minit by the scrapin’ of a fiddle!”