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Literally
speaking
,
there
were
no
bystanders
--
if
we
except
a
man
of
colossal
size
,
in
blanket
coat
,
and
slouch
felt
hat
;
who
,
despite
the
obscure
light
straggling
around
his
shoulders
,
could
be
identified
as
Zeb
Stump
,
the
hunter
.
He
was
not
standing
either
,
but
seated
astride
his
"
ole
maar
,
"
that
showed
less
anxiety
to
be
off
than
either
the
Mexican
mules
or
her
own
master
.
The
other
forms
around
the
vehicle
were
all
in
motion
--
quick
,
hurried
,
occasionally
confused
--
hither
and
thither
,
from
the
waggon
to
the
door
of
the
quarters
,
and
back
again
from
the
house
to
the
vehicle
.
There
were
half
a
score
of
them
,
or
thereabouts
;
varied
in
costume
as
in
the
colour
of
their
skins
.
Most
were
soldiers
,
in
fatigue
dress
,
though
of
different
arms
of
the
service
.
Two
would
be
taken
to
be
mess-cooks
;
and
two
or
three
more
,
officers
'
servants
,
who
had
been
detailed
from
the
ranks
.
A
more
legitimate
specimen
of
this
profession
appeared
in
the
person
of
a
well-dressed
darkie
,
who
moved
about
the
ground
in
a
very
authoritative
manner
;
deriving
his
importance
,
from
his
office
of
valet
de
tout
to
the
major
in
command
of
the
cantonment
.
A
sergeant
,
as
shown
by
his
three-barred
chevron
,
was
in
charge
of
the
mixed
party
,
directing
their
movements
;
the
object
of
which
was
to
load
the
waggon
with
eatables
and
drinkables
--
in
short
,
the
paraphernalia
of
a
pic-nic
.
That
it
was
intended
to
be
upon
a
grand
scale
,
was
testified
by
the
amplitude
and
variety
of
the
impedimenta
.
There
were
hampers
and
baskets
of
all
shapes
and
sizes
,
including
the
well
known
parallelopipedon
,
enclosing
its
twelve
necks
of
shining
silver-lead
;
while
the
tin
canisters
,
painted
Spanish
brown
,
along
with
the
universal
sardine-case
,
proclaimed
the
presence
of
many
luxuries
not
indigenous
to
Texas
.
However
delicate
and
extensive
the
stock
of
provisions
,
there
was
one
in
the
party
of
purveyors
who
did
not
appear
to
think
it
complete
.
The
dissatisfied
Lucullus
was
Zeb
Stump
.
"
Lookee
hyur
,
surgint
,
"
said
he
,
addressing
himself
confidentially
to
the
individual
in
charge
,
"
I
hai
n't
seed
neery
smell
o
'
corn
put
inter
the
veehicle
as
yit
;
an
'
,
I
reck
'n
,
thet
out
on
the
purayra
,
thur
'll
be
some
folks
ud
prefar
a
leetle
corn
to
any
o
'
thet
theer
furrin
French
stuff
.
Sham-pain
,
ye
call
it
,
I
b
'
lieve
.
"
"
Prefer
corn
to
champagne
!
The
horses
you
mean
?
"
"
Hosses
be
durned
.
I
ai
n't
talkin
'
'
bout
hoss
corn
.
I
mean
M'nongaheela
.
"
