The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-10-06

What could oppose to this mans quiet
assurance? | felt myself growing red with
anger and nervous with embarrassment.
What would the correct Sylvester say to me
What would the girls-I was young man
then, aud had won an entree to their domes-
tic circle by my reserve-known by less
complimentary adjective among the ''boys'-
what would they say to my new acquaint-
ance? Yet certainly could not object to his
assuming all risk on his own personal recog-
| nizances, nor could I resist a certain feeling
OF shame at my embarrassment.
We were beginning to descend. In the
distance below us already twinked the lights
the solitary rancho of Lone Valley.
4urDed to my companion. "But you have
forgotten that don't even know your name.
What am TO call you?'
"Thet's So" he said, musingly. "Now
let's see. 'Kearney' would be good name.
It's short and easy like. Thar's a street in
Frisco the same title. Kearney it isl
"But-" began impatiehtly.
''Now you leave all that to me-" be inter
rupted, with superb self confidence that
could not but admire. ''The name amt no
account. It's the man that's responsible Ell
was to lay for man that reck oned was
named Jones, and after l fetched him l
found out on the inquest that his real name
was Smith-that wouldn't make no matter,
| as long as got my man."
The illustration, forcible as it was, did not
strike me as offering progressing introduc-
ton, but we were already at the rancho.
| The barking of the dogs brought Sylvester
| 10 the door of the pretty little cottage which
his taste had adorned.
/ briefly introduced Mr.. Kearney. "Kear-
ney will do-Kearney's good enough for me-
commented the soi-disant Kearney half aloud,
10 INV borror ap6 Sulvaetar,c ov;6ort ynustifi-
cation, and then he blandly excused himself
| for moment that he might personally SUI
pervise the care of his own beast When be
was out of ear shot drew the puzzled Sylves-
ter aside.
81 have picked up-I mean have been
picked up on the road by gentle maniac,
| whose name is not Kearney. He is well armed
| and quotes Dickens. With care, acquiescence
| in his views ON all subjects, and general. SUBJ
mission to his commands, he may be pl-a
Gated. Doubtless the spectacle of your help
less family, the contemplation OF your daugh-
| ter's beauty and innocence may touch his
| fine sense of humor and pathos. Meanwhile
heaven help you and forgive me-"
l ran up stairs to the little den that nv
hospitable host had kept always reserved for
me in my wanderings. | fingered some time
over my additions, hearing the languid, gen.
| tlemanly drawl of Sylvester below, mingled
with the equally COOL easy slang of my mys-
terious acquaintance. When 1 came down
to the sittmg.room was surprised, however,
to find the self styled Kearney quietly seated
on the sofa, the gentle May Sylvester, the
Lilly of Lone Valley" sitting with maiden.
| ly awe and unaffected interest on one side OF
| him, while on the other that arrant flirt, her
covsin Kate, was practicng the pitiless arch
cry of her eyes, with an excitement that
seemed almost real.
"Who is your delciously cool friend ?" she
| managed to whisper to me at supper as I sat
| utterly dazed and bewildered between the
enrapt May Sylvester, who seemed to hang
upon his words, aud this giddy girl of the
period, who was emptyng the battery of her
charms in active rivalry upon him. "Of
| course we know his name isn't Kearpey
But how romantic. And isn't he perfectly
lovely? And who is hep"
1 replied with severe irony that was not
aware what foreign potentate was then tray
cling incognito in the Sierras of California,
| but when his Royal Highness was pleased to
| inform me, / should be glad to introduce him
properly, "Untll then," added, 81 fear the
acquaintance must be Morganatic."
you're only jealous of him." she said, pert
| ly. "Look at May-she is nerfecty fascinated.
| And her father, too" And actually the Ian
| guild world-sick, cynical Sylvester was regard
| luS Hln WIFI d Uuyiou iulcIcot anu 6uCQuSl-
| asm almost incompatible with his nature.
Yet submit honestly to the clear-headed
reason of my own sex, that could see moth
| ing more in the man than have already de.
| livered to the reader.
In 1.-THE middle of an exciting story of ad-
venture, of which he, to the already preiu-
diced mind of his fair auditors, was ev dent
| ly the hero, he stopped suddenly.
at is only some pack train passing the
| bridge on the lower trail, "explained Syves-
| ter, 'go on"
ut may be my horse is trife Uneasy in
| the stable," said the alleged Kearney: she
amt used to boards and covering" Heaven
only knows what wild and delicious revela-
ton lay in the statement of this fact, but the
girls looked at each other with cheeks pink
with excitement as Kearney arose and with
quiet absence of ceremony, quilted the table,
CANT he just lovely!' said Kate, gasping
for breath, sand so witty"
"Wittyp' said the gentle May, with Just
| the slightest trace of defiance in her sweet
voice. witty, my dear? why don't you see
| that his heart is just breaking with pathos
Witty, indeed; why, when he was speaking
or that poor Mexican woman that was hung
[ saw the tears gather in his eyes. Witty,
indeedp
'TearsP' laughed the cynical Sylvester,
"teaIs, idle tears.-Why, you silly children,
the man is a man of the world-a philoso-
pher, quiet, observant, unassuming''
UnassumingT Was Sylvester intoxi-
Gated. or had the mysterious stranger mixed
the insane herb with the family pottage ?
He returned before I could answer this self.
asked inquiry, and resumed coolIy his broken
narrative. Finding myself forgotten in the
man had so long hesitated to introduce to
my friends, retired to rest early, only TO
hear, through the thin Partitions, two hours
later, enthusiastic praises of the new guest
| from the vouble lips of the girls, as they
chatted together in the next room before re-
| tiring.s
At midnight was startled by the sound of
horses's hoofs and the jingling of spurs be-
low, A conversation between my host and
some mysterious parsonage in the darkness
was carried on in such low tone that could
not learn its import. As the cavalcade rode
away, l raised the window.
What's the matter?"
Nothing" said Sylvester cooy, ''only
another one of those playful homicidal freaks
peculiar to the country. A man was shot by
Cherokee Jack over at Lagrange this morn
ing, and that was the Sheriff of Calaveras and
his posse hunting him. / told him I'd seen
nobody but you and your friend. By the way,
hope the cursed noise hasn't disturbed him.
The poor fellow looked as if he wanted rest.
though so, too. Nevertheless, went soft
ly to his room. 1t was empty. My impress
sion was that he had distanced the Sheriff of