It seemed to be merely a proper temple for an
enormous stove, which, in the center, was humming with godlike
violence. At various points on its surface the iron had become
luminous and glowed yellow from the heat. Beside the stove Scully's
son Johnnie was playing High-Five with an old farmer who had
whiskers both gray and sandy. They were quarreling. Frequently the old
farmer turned his face toward a box of sawdust- colored brown from
tobacco juice- that was behind the stove, and spat with an air of
great impatience and irritation. With a loud flourish of words
Scully destroyed the game of cards, and bustled his son upstairs
with part of the baggage of the new guests. He himself conducted
them to three basins of the coldest water in the world. The cowboy and
the Easterner burnished themselves fiery red with this water, until it
seemed to be some kind of a metal polish. The Swede, however, merely
dipped his fingers gingerly and with trepidation. It was notable
that throughout this series of small ceremonies the three travelers
were made to feel that Scully was very benevolent. He was conferring
great favors upon them. He handed the towel from one to the other with
an air of philanthropic impulse.
Afterward they went to the first room, and, sitting about the stove,
listened to Scully's officious clamor at his daughters, who were
preparing the midday meal. They reflected in the silence of
experienced men who tread carefully amid new people.
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