A First Family of Tasaa | Page 3

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A FIRST FAMILY OF TASAJARA
by Bret Harte

CHAPTER I.
"It blows," said Joe Wingate.
As if to accent the words of the speaker a heavy gust of wind at that
moment shook the long light wooden structure which served as the
general store of Sidon settlement, in Contra Costa. Even after it had
passed a prolonged whistle came through the keyhole, sides, and
openings of the closed glass front doors, that served equally for
windows, and filled the canvas ceiling which hid the roof above like a
bellying sail. A wave of enthusiastic emotion seemed to be
communicated to a line of straw hats and sou-westers suspended from a
cross-beam, and swung them with every appearance of festive rejoicing,
while a few dusters, overcoats, and "hickory" shirts hanging on the side
walls exhibited such marked though idiotic animation that it had the
effect of a satirical comment on the lazy, purposeless figures of the four
living inmates of the store.
Ned Billings momentarily raised his head and shoulders depressed in
the back of his wooden armchair, glanced wearily around, said, "You
bet, it's no slouch of a storm," and then lapsed again with further
extended legs and an added sense of comfort.
Here the third figure, which had been leaning listlessly against the
shelves, putting aside the arm of a swaying overcoat that seemed to be

emptily embracing him, walked slowly from behind the counter to the
door, examined its fastenings, and gazed at the prospect. He was the
owner of the store, and the view was a familiar one,--a long stretch of
treeless waste before him meeting an equal stretch of dreary sky above,
and night hovering somewhere between the two. This was indicated by
splashes of darker shadow as if washed in with india ink, and a lighter
low-lying streak that might have been the horizon, but was not. To the
right, on a line with the front door of the store, were several scattered,
widely dispersed objects, that, although vague in outline, were rigid
enough in angles to suggest sheds or barns, but certainly not trees.
"There's a heap more wet to come afore the wind goes down," he said,
glancing at the sky. "Hark to that, now!"
They listened lazily. There was a faint murmur from the shingles above;
then suddenly the whole window was filmed and blurred as if the entire
prospect had been wiped out with a damp sponge. The man turned
listlessly away.
"That's the kind that soaks