Chapter 1

THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY BALL.

Bill Kellar played the first fiddle and called the figures; Blind Benner was second fiddle, and Hunch Blair blew the cornet. A curious trio they were.

William Kellar had come from an Eastern city, where he had been the leader of a successful orchestra. The noises of the streets had proved too much for his sensitive hearing, and he had fled from them to the stillness of the forest. He lived at the foot of Coot Hill, where he was frequently visited by Blind Benner, a young man to whom he had taken a fancy and whom he taught to play on the violin.

Blind Benner had a Christian name, but the people of Three-Sisters did not know what it was, and they always spoke of him by the title his infirmity suggested.

Hunch Blair did odd jobs at the furnace store at Three-Sisters, a village located at the foot of a spur of the Alleghany Mountains. Only his father called Hunch by his Christian name. He was a mannish dwarf. Somewhere he had learned to play the cornet.

These were the musicians at the Queen's ball, and lively music they played.

"Move round there, you huckleberry-huckster, and keep some sort of time to the music," Bill shouted at Mrs. Wright from Tihank.

She sold berries in their season and was a quaint character. Spurred by the caller's sharp reprimand, she got ahead of the others, and left her partner before it was time to "turn corners."

He was none other than the stalwart, handsome, dignified owner of the Three-Sister furnaces, and known to all the iron trade as Colonel Jerry Hornberger. He had honored the Queen's ball with his presence and was dancing the first quadrille with Mrs. Wright.

"Seat your partners," Bill shouted presently, "and give Hunch a chance to fill that extra lung he carries on his back."

The party was given in honor of Elizabeth McAnay, the Queen of the Block of Blazes, who had become twenty-one that day.

Tall, strong, light-footed, and graceful, she was the best dancer in Three-Sisters and eagerly sought as a partner at all the balls. Although not pretty, her face was full of character. Her eyes and hair, which was worn short, were black. Her walk was erect, and her manner regal. She was always grave and dignified, yet could enter heartily into the spirit of a jolly occasion. However, she never lost her womanly dignity as many girls do at balls or parties in the country, by playing practical jokes on the young men; and because she would not join in such tricks, one of the girls had given her the nickname, "The Queen of the Block."

"Twenty-one dances, mind," said Bill, tuning his fiddle for the second dance. "Your positions for number two. Huckleberries, you dance here where I can tap you with the fiddle-bow."

Mrs. Wright, taking a place on the floor by the side of John Gillfillan, the head clerk at the furnace store, turned up her nose at Bill, and joined another set.

Snap! Blind Benner broke a fiddle string, and was so grieved that he could not play that Bill delayed the dance until the string was again tuned.

Elizabeth was dancing with her oldest brother Levi. Her partner in the first quadrille had been her aged father, who danced no more that night.

Levi was tall and wore his hair long, falling on his shoulders. He was a school-teacher, and a strange combination of faculties found expression in his methods of instruction and discipline. His smile was potent with his pupils being both their reward and punishment; to the deserving it was a benediction, to the unfaithful it was a mocking grin, confounding and abashing them. He was gallant to his sister, and walked gracefully through the dance with her.

Elizabeth's partner in the third dance was Matthew McAnay, her brother, four years older than she. By occupation a wood-chopper, he was an active, strong man, but rather a clumsy dancer. Sometimes his face wore a smile similar to Levi's; to acquaintances it was tantalizing, to strangers annoying.

Cassius McAnay was Elizabeth's partner in the fourth dance. He, too, was her brother, two years her senior, and much like their elder brothers. He was his father's assistant in the coaling.

After the fourth dance John Gillfillan made his way along the ball-room to Elizabeth's side. The change of her manner as she accepted his arm for the next dance showed how welcome he was, yet they were not avowed lovers. He had not made his declaration, but she was expecting it that night. It came, yet not as she had hoped for it.

The ball-room was a long porch, which had once been the platform where freight was received when the Block had been a warehouse, Three-Sisters at that time being the terminus of a railroad. When the railroad was carried farther up the river, the warehouse was found to be unnecessary, and Colonel Hornberger, desiring to turn it into a tenement-house, bought it from the railroad company.

In it a dozen families could be comfortably accommodated, each family having five rooms, three upstairs and two down. The long platform was divided by fences, and to each door steps led from the street. In the openings thus made in the floor of the platform trap-doors were fitted.

These porches were the wash-rooms of the families; and on a Monday, when the washing of clothes took place, so many quarrels arose between the women that the house was given the nickname of the Block of Blazes.

On the night of Elizabeth's party there was harmony in the Block. The wash-tubs and benches were removed, the middle fences were taken away, the trap-doors were down, and the platform made a dancing-floor, which was lighted by candles placed in the windows, and by perforated stable-lanterns, swung on ropes above the heads of the dancers.

John, or Gill, as he was called, conducted Lizzi--for that was what her brothers shortened her name to--to the end of the porch opposite the musicians, who had seats raised above the floor.

Many of the guests were grouped near this platform, gathered around Jacob McAnay and his wife; and Gill and Lizzi had the other end of the porch to themselves. She leaned over the rail and looked at a star twinkling near the horizon, which was made in the West for Three-Sisters by a ridge that was precipitous and high.

"Lizzi," said Gill, "will you be my wife?"

"I will, John."

The shrill voice of Bill Kellar broke upon their ears.

"Cotton, Lizzi! cotton, quick! or there'll be no more dancing here to-night."

Lizzi turned impatiently toward him.

"Never mind him; he's drunk," said Gill.

"Lizzi, the devil is here, and wants a dance, and if I don't get some cotton for my ears, I'll have to give it to him."

"I must humor him, John," said Lizzi, and disappeared in the house.

There she encountered Gret Reed, Seth Reed's wife, who, knowing Bill's eccentricities, had gone for some cotton when he first asked for it.

"I have it, Lizzi," said Gret; "your mother told me where it was."

"Just like you, Gret; always the first to do anything that is asked."

Gret took the cotton to Bill, who stuffed it in his ears. Then he shouted, "Partners for the fifth dance."

Gill led Lizzi to the floor. She was very happy, betrothed to the man she loved. How light her step, how graceful her movement, as the tall, comely girl walked through the quadrille by the side of her promised husband!

After the dancers were seated when this quadrille was finished, Bill took Hunch aside and asked:

"Hunch, are you afraid of the devil?"

"Ain't afeard uv nuthin'!"

Hunch looked it. His wrinkled old face, with its expression of cunning, and his disfigured form suggested that he was on intimate terms with all sorts of evil spirits.

"The devil is here to-night, Hunch, begging me to play for him to dance, and I don't want to hear him. That's why I put the cotton in my ears. But I will have to play for him. He never lets me go without a dance when he comes around. If I refuse to play, he gives me a lower-region chills-and-fever that makes my bones ache and my flesh burn. But to-night he will have to wait until the party is over; then I will play for him. He will dance on the roof. When I give you the nod, just take your cornet, sneak up on the roof and blow a hole through him, will you?"

"I will thet;" and Hunch jerked his head in a way that showed he intended to ventilate Satan effectively.

When Bill returned to the musician's stand, Blind Benner, who knew the mood that was upon his master, asked the privilege of playing second fiddle for the devil's dance.

"Sorry, Benner, but Old Nick wouldn't have it. He will dance to but one fiddle, and insists that I shall play it. And if he don't get his dance to-night, he will give me an ague that quinine won't cure."

Blind Benner looked sad. Hunch was given the privilege of driving Satan away; but he could not extend to his teacher, tortured into playing for the demoniacal dance, the sympathy of an accompanying violin. With a sigh, he twanged the strings of his violin to learn if they were in tune.

The last dance was a Virginia Reel. With Colonel Hornberger as a partner, Lizzi took the head to lead off.

When the reel was finished, the guests prepared to leave.

"Not yet," shouted Bill. "Don't go yet. Seats, everybody, and we will have a jig by the devil."

A shiver passed over the guests, and they remained standing in groups.

Bill, who was tuning his violin, seemed to have been suddenly transformed. A demon seemed to have taken possession of him. His look was wild, and his eagerness to play almost a frenzy. Before he put the instrument under his chin he unstopped his ears. Immediately, when his bow crossed the strings, he gave himself up to a delirium of melody. His eyes glared, and his body swayed. His auditors were frightened into silence. However, Hunch was self-possessed, and held his horn ready to perforate Satan with a blast from it. Blind Benner wept silently.

Finally Bill nodded, and Hunch hastened from the porch. A minute after he entered the Block, a discordant blast from the roof broke the spell, restored the player to his senses, and relieved the others, who to this day declare that they distinctly heard the cloven hoof keeping time to the music on the shingles.

On his way home Bill muttered:

"What infernal business had Old Nick at Lizzi's party?"

In after-time he knew.