A tall man in his shirt-sleeves, with a sandy beard, and a quill toothpick held negligently between his teeth, stepped to the coach. Stephen conjectured that this was no less a person than Mr. Jim Youtsey himself.
“Friends of the general's?” he inquired affably.
“Yes,” said Stephen, stepping to the ground.
“The general asked me to keep an eye peeled for you. He's over in the next county, will be back to-morrow if nothing happens—a splendid man! You couldn't have a stronger indorsement, sir, I'm glad to know you, glad to welcome you into our midst!” And Mr. Youtsey shot him a sunny smile over the tip of his toothpick and held out his hand. “Present me to the Madame—Youtsey's my name.”
Stephen did so, and Mr. Youtsey removed his hat with one hand and his toothpick with the other; his hat was returned to his head, and his toothpick to his mouth by a common movement of his two hands, and he led the way toward his hotel.
“What you see, sir, is the newest thing in Kansas. A year ago there was nothing here but sunshine and jack-rabbits.”
He further begged Stephen to particularly note that Grant City was not a cow town; its wealth being derived entirely from the cultivation of the soil; where were the farms? Just scattered about. Yonder was the general's office; and through the falling twilight down the street, Stephen, following the direction of Mr. Youtsey's useful toothpick, was able to distinguish a very small building with a very large sign; indeed the number and size of these signs greatly astonished him, since no building seemed complete without one. Commenting upon this fact, Mr. Youtsey kindly paused to explain that Grant City had assembled itself on the prairie with such haste, and with so little regard for the proper housing of its citizens, that such buildings as had been erected were not only places of residence, but were used as offices and stores as well—hence the signs. Having made this point clear, Mr. Youtsey personally conducted them to their room, still accompanied by his hat and toothpick, with both of which he seemed loath to part.
He left them, and presently a small coloured boy appeared with a pitcher of ice-water, and the information that supper was served. On going down-stairs to the dining-room, they found Mr. Youtsey at the head of a long table at which were seated half a score of men. There immediately followed numerous introductions. Of the ten men, five, Stephen gathered, were in the real estate business; four were recent arrivals like himself who were looking about.
The last to be introduced was a small elderly man with a very red face and a generally dissipated air, whom Mr. Youtsey presented as Dr. Arling.
“I hope you'll find things home-like here, ma'am,” and Mr. Youtsey addressed himself to Marian. “We are shy on ladies, it's strictly a voting population.” Then he permitted his duties as host to absorb him, and when he had seen that his guests were served, he seated himself with a pleasant: