A few seconds after, the host and hostess were ready to receive company, and a blazing pine fire illuminated a room 20 × 25 feet in dimensions. The beds were one side and the frowsy heads of eight children stuck with wondering faces out from the torn covers. Two tables and a few chairs were on the middle floor, and numerous garments and household articles hung on the walls. The light from the great, gaping fire-place, in one end of the room, showed the party off to advantage. The girls were attired in their best garments; some of light yellow, though blue dresses preponderated. The characters of most interest to all present were two good-natured-looking young men dressed in “biled” shirts, green neckties, “store-boughten” coats, and homespun pantaloons. With self-important airs they accepted and immediately covered two chairs before the blazing hearth. One of the twain had a home-made banjo on his knee; the other, a violin. The necessary scraping and twanging to get the instruments in tune took place; and then the older musician announced that the ball was open. “Trot out yer gals,” said he; “There mustn’t be enny hangin’ back while these ’ere cat-gut strings last. Git up an’ shine!” After some hesitation four couples stepped into the center of the floor, forming two sets. Each one separated from and stood facing his partner. Then the music struck up, and such music! The tune was one of the liveliest jigs imaginable, and the musicians sang as they played. The dancers courtesied and then began a singular dance. There was no calling off; it was simply a jig on the part of each performer. The girls danced with arms akimbo, reeling sideways one way, and then sideways the other. Their partners, with slouched hats still on their heads, hair swinging loosely, every muscle in motion and all in time with the music, careered around in like manner. The rest of the party stood silent and interested looking on; and on the whole scene blazed the pine knots. At intervals, parties of two, three, or more, of the men slipped out of the door, then in a few minutes returned, apparently refreshed by a draught of the night air, or something else. After the finish of one of the dances, in which we strangers engaged, a fierce-mustached mountaineer tapped me on the shoulder, whispering as he did so: “Come outside a minnit.” I hesitated for a moment, hardly knowing whether I would better follow or not; then I stepped after him. As the light shone through the open door, I saw that three men were outside with him. The door shut behind me. It was intensely dark, every star was blotted out, and a damp, chilly wind was sweeping down the mountain. We walked a few steps from the house. “What do you want?” I asked in an apprehensive tone.