Two died of the fever, and the third was
supposed to have been murdered in crossing the Plains.
David remained. He was a tall, well-made youth, with plenty of health
and good looks, willing to work on the farm, but devoted mainly to his
little sloop-boat. People called him odd. He was both odd and even. He
was odd in being somewhat different in his habits from other young men;
but then he had an even way of his own, which he kept. With him, the sea
and his little sloop-boat and the daily paper supplied the place of
balls, concerts, parties, and young women.
"Why don't you dress up, and go gallivantin' about 'mong the gals?" his
old mother used to say. But he would only laugh, and pshaw, and walk off
to the shore. And I, watching his erect gait and firm tread, would
wonder how it was that one good-looking young man should be so different
from all other good-looking young men. Still, there was a sort of
sheepishness about the eyes, and that was probably why he never turned
them, when meeting the girls, but strode along, looking straight ahead,
as if they had been so many fence-posts.
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