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I guess I'm nothin' but a rough-neck stagedriver an' prospector, clear into the middle of my bones. If I had the sense of a rabbit I never'd gone hellin' through life the way I've done. I'd amount to somethin' by now. As it is I ain't nothin' and I ain't nobody " "You're Casey Wyan! You make me sad when you say that!"
He shut himself up with his distracting problem for three days in utter privacy: he emerged with his mind made up, a Union soldier. "It must have been awkward for a Virginian to cast his lot against Virginia," we observed to the stagedriver who bore us back to the station an ex-Federal soldier and a faithful devotee of Crayon's.
But the Major turned upon her the terrific countenance she had last seen on Jane's wedding day, and she fell silent from sheer inability to utter a protest befitting the occasion. "If that stagedriver enters my house, I leave it, ma'am," thundered the old gentleman, with a stamp of his gouty foot.
His manner was sufficiently imposing, though his dress was that of the wandering countryman, savoring of the jockey, and not much unlike that frequently worn by such wayfarers as the stagedriver and carrier of the mails. He had on an overcoat made of buckskin, an article of the Indian habit; a deep fringe of the same material hung suspended from two heavy capes that depended from the shoulder.
The stagedriver looked upon us as his especial charge, and we had a sense of personal property in the Salem and Lowell stagecoach, which had once, like a fairy-godmother's coach, rumbled down into our own little lane, taken possession of us, and carried us off to a new home.
"Oh, yes, I saw him," replied the Major, loosening his high black stock. "But where do you suppose I saw him, ma'am? and how? Why, the young scapegrace has actually gone and hired himself out as a stagedriver a common stagedriver. And, bless my soul, he had the audacity to tip his hat to me from the box from the box with the reins in his hand, ma'am!" "What stage, Mr.
Now go, before I empty this gun into the two of you!" Casey stopped, puffing a little, I suppose. He is not so young as when they called him the Fightin' Stagedriver, and he had done his long day of travel. The three did not know that he was there, they were so busy with their quarrel. The woman's voice was sharp with contempt, but it was not loud and there was not a tremble in any tone of it.
"You don't mean to tell me that you came away and left the boy sitting on the box of a stagecoach?" she demanded sharply. "Would you have me claim a stagedriver as a grandson?" retorted the Major, "because I may as well say now, ma'am, that there are some things I'll not stoop to. Why, I'd as lief have an uncle who was a chimney sweep." Mrs. Lightfoot turned uneasily in bed.