Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1877-10-05

my sharing the contents OF his whisky
flask, and, noticing that was unarmed,
pressed upon me silver-mounted der.
ringer, which he assured me he could
warrant" These various offices of
good. will and the diversion of his talk
beguiled me from noticing the fact that
the trail was beginning to become OBJ
scure and unreoognizable. We were
evidently pursuing route unknown be-
fore to me. l pointed out the fact to my
companion little impatiently. He in
stantly resumed his old manner and dia-
lect.
1" Well, / reckon one trails as good as
another, and what hev ye got to say
about it?"
1 pointed out, with some dignity, that
l preferred the old trail.
"Mebbe you did But you're jiss now
takin' puSedr with me. This yer trail
will bring you right into Indian Spring,
and OHnOticed, and no questions asked.
Don't you mind, now, I'll see you
through" -a.a---.- a---s
1t was necessary here to make some
stand against my strange companion. !
said, firmly, yet as politely as l could,
that l had proposed stopping over night
with friend.
WHARF" --. -..
l hesitated. The friend was an eccen-
trio Eastern man, well known in the To-
cality for his fastidiousness and his hab.
its as a recluse. A misanthrope of am
pie family and ample means, he had
chosen a secluded but picturesque valley
in the Sierras where he could rail
against the world without opposition.
Lone Valley" or Boston Ranch" as
it was more familiarly called, was the
one spot that the average miner both re-
spected and feared. Mr.. Sylvester, its
proprietor, had never affiliated with the
boys" nor had he ever lost their respect
by any active opposition to their ideas.
If seclusion had been his object he GER
tainly was gratified. Nevertheless, in
the darkening shadows of the night, and
on lonely and unknown trail, hesitat-
ed little at repeating his name to
a stranger of whom l knew so little.
But my mysterious companion took the
matter out of my hands.
Look yar," he said, suddenly: thar
amt but one place twixt yer and Indian
Spring whar ye can stop and that's Syl-
vester's."
l assented, little sullenly.
"Well," said the stranger, quietly and
with q slight suggestion of comforting
favor on me, "ef you're pointed for
Sylvesters -why-I don't mind stopping
thar Oith ye. It's little of the road
I'll lose some time-but taking it by and
large don't much mind"
l stated, as rapidly and as strongly as
could, that my acquaintance with Mr..
Sylvester did not justify the introduction
of stranger to his hospitality-that he
was unlike most of the people herein
short that he was a queer man, ETC., etc.
To my surprise my companion an
swered quietly: "Oh, that's all right.
I've heerd of him. Eff you don't feel
like checking me through, or if you'd
rather put &C. o. D. on my back, why,
it's all the same to me. I'll play it alone.
Only you just count me in. Say Syl-
vester' all the time. That's me-"
What could l oppose to this mans
quiet assurance? l felt myself growing
red with anger and nervous with embar-
rassment. What would the correct Syl-
vester say to meH What would the girls
i was a young man then, and had an
entree to their domestic circle by my re-
serve-known by less complimentary
adjective among the "boys"-what would
they say to my new acquaintance? Yet
certainly could not object to his assum-
ing all risk on his own personal recogni-
zances, nor could resist certain feel
of shame at my embarrassment.
We were beginning TO descend. In
the distance below us already twin
kled the lights in the solitary rancho of
Lone Valley. turned to my companion.
" But you have forgotten that l don't
even know your real name. What am
TO call your"
"Thet's Sc" he said, musingly. "Now,
let's see. 'Kearney would be a good
name. It's short and easy like. Thar's
street in Frisco the same title. Kearney
it is"
But" began, impatiently.
"Now you leave all that to me-" he
interrupted, with a superb self-confidence
that l could not but admire. "The
name amt no account. It's the man
that's responsible. Eff was to lay for a
man that reckoned was named Jones,
and after l fetched him found out on
the inquest that his real name was Smith,
that wouldn't make no matter, as long as
l got the man."
The illustration, forcible as it was, did
not strike me as offering prepossessing
but we were already at the
rancho. The barking of dogs brought
Sylvester to the door of the pretty little
cottage which his taste had adorned.
briefly introduced Mr.. Kearney.
Kearney will do-Kearney's good
enough for me-" commented the sol
dtsGnt Kearney half aloud, to my own
horror and Sylvester's evident mystifica-
tion, and then he blandly excused him
self for moment that he might person
ally supervise the care of his own beast.
When he was out of earshot drew the
puzzled Sylvester aside.
7" have picked up-I mean l 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 submission to his
commands, he may be placated. Doubt.
less the spectacle Of your helpless fam.
lily, the contemplation of your daughters
beauty and innocence, may touch his fine
sense of humor and pathos. Meanwhile,
Heaven help you, and forgive me-"
ran up stairs to the little den that
nay hospitable host had kept always re-
served for me In my wanderings. lin
gered some time over my ablutions, hear
ing the languid, gentlemanly drawl of
Sylvester below mingled with the equally
cool, easy slang of my mysterious &C
quaintance, When / came down to the
sittiDg-room was surprised, however, to
find the self-styled Kearney quietly seated
on the sofa, the gentle May Sylvester,
The "Lily of Lone Valley" sitting with
awe and unaffected interest on
one side of him, while ON the other that
lrranL flirL her cousin Kate WING nrnc.