“Which is the White Hart?” said I, as I came on deck, now crowded with shore folk, porters, and waiters.
“This way, sir,—follow me,” said a smart fellow in a waiter's dress; and I handed him my bundle and stepped on shore.
CHAPTER XX. THE LOG-HUT AT BRAZOS
I was all impatience to see my prize: and scarcely had I entered the inn than I passed out into the stable-yard, now crowded with many of those equestrian-looking figures I had seen on board the steamer.
“Butcher's mare here still, Georgie?” said a huge fellow, with high boots of red-brown leather, and a sheepskin capote belted round him with a red sash.
“Yes, Master Seth, there she stands. You'll be getting a bargain of her, one of these days.”
“If I had her up at Austin next week for the fair, she 'd bring a few hundred dollars.”
“You 'd never think of selling a beast like that at Austin, Seth?” said a bystander.