dwelling house. At the door of the latter stood a regress with a bright

turban on her head, to whom Philip called,

Can you tell me, auntie, how far it is to the town of Magnolia?"

Why, bress you chile," laughed the woman, "you's dere now."

It was true. This log horse was the compactly built town, and all

creation was its suburbs. The engineers' camp was only two or three

miles distant.

"You's boun' to find it," directed auntie, "if you don't keah nuffin

'bout de road, and go fo' de sun-down."

A brisk gallop brought the riders in sight of the twinkling light of the

camp, just as the stars came out. It lay in a little hollow, where a

small stream ran through a sparse grove of young white oaks. A half

dozen tents were pitched under the trees, horses and oxen were corraled

at a little distance, and a group of men sat on camp stools or lay on

blankets about a bright fire. The twang of a banjo became audible as

they drew nearer, and they saw a couple of negroes, from some neighboring

plantation, "breaking down" a juba in approved style, amid the "hi, hi's"

of the spectators.

Mr. Jeff Thompson, for it was the camp of this redoubtable engineer, gave

the travelers a hearty welcome, offered them ground room in his own tent,

176

The Gilded Age