"Square job, and no backin'," said the judge, with a grin. "There's the stage now—hurry up, fellers!"
The stage drew up with a crash in front of The Nugget, and the passengers, outside and in, but none looking teacherish, hurried into the saloon. The boys scarcely knew whether to swear from disappointment or gratification, when a start from Mose drew their attention again to the stage. On the top step appeared a small shoe, above which was visible a small section of stocking far whiter and smaller than is usual in the mines. In an instant a similar shoe appeared on the lower step, and the boys saw, successively, the edge of a dress, a waterproof cloak, a couple of small gloved hands, a bright muffler, and a pleasant face covered with brown hair, and a bonnet. Then they heard a cheerful voice say:
"I'm the teacher, gentlemen—can any one show me the schoolhouse?"
The miserable Mose looked ghastly, and tottered. A suspicion of a wink graced the judge's eye, but he exclaimed in a stern, low tone: "Square job, an' no backin'," upon which Mose took to his heels and the Placerville trail.
The judge had been a married man, so he promptly answered:
"I'll take yer thar, mum, ez soon ez I git yer baggage."
"Thank you," said the teacher; "that valise under the seat is all."
The judge extracted a small valise marked "Huldah Brown," offered his arm, and he and the teacher walked off before the astonished crowd as naturally as if the appearance of a modest-looking young lady was an ordinary occurrence at the Flat.
The stage refilled, and rattled away from the dumb and staring crowd, and the judge returned.
"Well, boys," said he, "yer got to marry two women, now, to stop that school, an' you'll find this un more particler than the widder. I just tell yer what it is about that school—it's a-goin' to go on, spite uv any jackasses that wants it broke up; an' any gentleman that's insulted ken git satisfaction by—"