“What a low, vulgar fellow this is, even too low for a squatter,” said Clarence, driving off.
“Phew!” ejaculated the elder Darrell, “you speak like a Don. Your idea of a squatter is not flattering.”
“It is flattering thus far, that I think Gasbang is too low for the settler, who means no wrong-doing,—the average squatter. As for Mathews, I am sure he is a cut-throat by instinct.”
“That may be; but I think their idea of your seeing Pittikin and Hughes is good. You can have more effect on them than Gasbang or Mathews.”
“O, I am willing to go to speak to the old men, but why should I see the girls?”
“You manage that part to suit yourself. And now stop. I'll drop here; you needn't go out of your way. I'll walk home. I want to see this piece of land near by. It has not been located. I might put a claim there for Everett and another for Webster.”
Clarence sighed, and silently drove on. He had passed by the Pittikin and Hughes farms the day he arrived, as his father had taken him to see how nicely the settlers were doing in Southern California; all expecting their prosperity to increase by the building of the railroad. Clarence saw the two houses and began to feel like a mariner of old between Scylla and Charybdis. There might be a troop of ugly old girls in each house. If he could only see some men out in the fields. But the fields looked deserted. Where could the men be—this being no Sunday nor Fourth of July, that they should leave off work? On looking about for some human being to guide him, he saw in the distance, under a clump of dark trees, several wagons, and horses unhitched, standing harnessed near them.
He was about to turn to the left, to take the road between two fields, when he heard voices, shouting loudly. He supposed they were calling some one. The shouts were followed by a man on horseback galloping towards him. Clarence stopped and waited. The rider was no other than Mr. Pittikin, who came in person to invite him to join their picnic, in honor of his daughter's wedding. The opportunity to see the men together would be excellent, but the girls would be there, too, thought Clarence, not over pleased.
“Please excuse me, I am not dressed to appear in company. I came to see you on business,” said he.
“The girls said I must bring you.” Clarence felt a qualm. “And even if I have to fight you I must obey; obey the ladies, you know. There ain't many there. Only our two families—Hughes and mine, and neighbor Hancock's and a few friends. Indeed, we will feel slighted if you don't join us. We will feel you think us too humble a class for you to associate with.”