In the sweet by-and-by.'"
"That man and his song match well," said the Major, as Joshua disappeared around the corner and the refrain died away, "'my dukedom to a beggarly denier' he does not get back until too late in the day to start. I wonder if he is not trying to make an extra day in his count?"
At two o'clock he returned, but had not succeeded in obtaining a seat. He stood before the Major with eyes cast down and his forefinger on his chin, evidently in deep communion with himself.
"I wonder, now, where I can get a seat—lemme see—Bowers' got a waggin same as mine, but he started yesterday with a load to Newcastle. Ben Soggs-no! his is broke. Lemme see—Pat McGinnis—no, he's usin' his every day——"
"Suppose you buy one—is there not a wagon shop in the city?" said the Major.
"Well, I swan! I hadn't thought of that—just hold on a minute."
In the course of half an hour he returned with the announcement that he had found a seat, but the man wanted five dollars and a half, "second hand, and that's a dollar'n a half more'n it's worth, and——."
"Well, get it, we'll stand the dollar and a half."
"All right—just hold on a minute."
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when we started. We were blessed with several friends in Glenwood; they manifested much interest in our preparations for departure, and, as they had a number of resident acquaintances, the sidewalk was well peopled by the time we climbed into the wagon. Looking over that sea of faces, as I remember it now, every one was lighted up with a broad smile, which resolved itself into a laugh, with a hearty good-by and wishes for luck, together with the request that we "leave some of the game on the White," and would "not kill it all."