The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-10-06
THE PRESS
bret Harte, in the New York SUM-
Who Was my Quiet
Friend?

of alder ahead; no one IN the quilted slope
behind.
so! strangerw
This time little impatiently. The Cali
fornian vocatiye, so" always meant bust
ness.
looked up and perceived for the first time
on the ledge thirty feet above me, another
trail parallel with my own, and looking down
upon me through the buckeye bushes, a
small man on back horse.
Five things to be here noted by the crcum-
spect mountaineer. First, the locality
lone ly and inaccessible and away from the
regular faring OF teamstecs and miners. Sec.
ondly, the strangers superior knowledge oil
the road from the fact that the other trail
was unknown to the ordinary traveller.
Thirdly, that he was well armed and equipped.
Fourthly, that he was better mounted.
Filthy. that any distrust or timidity arising
from these facts ought to be kept to ones
self.
'.Got any tobacco? he asked.
had, and signified the fact by holding Up
the pouch inquiringlyr
GAN right, I'll come down. Ride on and
I'll jinelye on the slide''.
"The slide?" Here was geographical dis
coverery as odd as the second trail. I had
ridden over the trail dozen times and seen
no communication between the ledge and
trail. Nevertheless | went on hundred
yards or SO. when there was sharp crack
ling in the underbrush. shower of stones on
the trail and my friend plunged through the
bushes 20 my side down grade that 1 Should
scarcely have dared to lead my horse. There
was no doubt that he was an acco mplished
rider-another fact to be noted.
AS he ranged beside me found was moi
mistaken as to his size; he was quite under
the medium height, and but for a pair of cold
gray eyes, was rather commonplace in feat
ure.
"You've got good horse there,'' l sug-
gested.
He was filling his pipe from my pouch, but
looked upa little surprised, and said, sOi
course" He then pulled away with the
nervous eagerness of man long deprived q
that sedative. Finally, between the puffs, he
asked me whence 1 came.
replied from Lagrange"
He looked at me few moments curiosly
but on my adding that had only halted
there for few hours, he said: 81 thought ]
knew every man between Lagrange and In
dian Spring but somehow sorter disremem-
Der your face andsyour name."
Not particularly caring that he should re-
member either, replied laughingly that as ]
lived the other side of Indian Spring, it was
quite natural. He took the rebuff If such it
was-so quietly, that as an act of mere per
functory politeness, I asked him where be
came from.
Lagrange"
"And you are going to-"
well, that depends pretty much on how
things pan out, and whether can make the
rifle" He let his hand rest quite uncon.
sciously on the leather holster of his dragon
revolver, yet with strong suggestion to me OF
his ability to make the rl1e'' if he wanted
to, and added, but just now was reckon
ing on taking little pasear with you.''
There was nothing offensive in his speech
save its familiarity and the reflection perhaps
that whether objected or not, he was quite
able to 90 as he said, l only replied that il
our pasear was prolonged beyond Heavytree
Hill should have to borrow his beast. To
my surprise he replied quietly, ''That's SOP
adding that the horse was at my dispose
when he wasn't using it, and half of it when
he was. ''Dick has carried double many a
time before this" he continued, s'and can
do it again; when your mustang gives out,
I'll give you lift, and room to spare"
l could not help smiling at the idea of ap
pearing before the boys at Red Gulch en-
crOupe with the stranger; neither could
help being oddly affected by the suggestion
that his horse had done double duty before
"On what occasion, and why?'' was ques.
ton kept to myself. We were ascending
the long rocky flank of the Divide; the mar.
rowness OF the trail obliged us to proceed
slowly and in file, so that there was little
chance for conversation had he been disposed
to satisfy my curiosity.
We toiled on in silence, the buckeye giving
way to chmisal, the westering sun, reflected
again from the blank walls beside us, blind
ing our eyes with its glare. The pines in the
canyon below were olive CULTS of heat, over
which hawk here and there drifted lazily
or rising to our level, cast wierd and gigan-
tic shadow of slowly moving wings on the
mountain side. The superiority of the
strangers horse led him often far in advance.
and made me hope that he might forget me
entirely, or push on, grown weary of waiting.
But regularly he would halt by bowlder. or
reappear from some chimisal, where he had
patiently halted. l was beginning to hate
him mildly, when at one of those reappear-
ances he drew up to my side, and asked me
how liked Dickens!
Had he asked my opinion of Huxley or
Darwin, I could not have been more aston
ished. Thinking it we're possible that he re-
ferred to some local celebrity of Lagrange, ]
said, hesitatingly:
'You mean -"
"Charles Dickens. Of course you've read
him? Which of his books do you like best ?''
replied with considerable embarrassment
that liked them alias certainly did.
He grasped my hand for moment with a
4, fervor quite unlike his usual phlegm, and
said, "Thats me, old man. Dickens amt no
SLOUGH. You can count on him pretty much
all the time.''
With this rough preface, he launched into
criticism of the novelist, which for intelli-
gent sympathy and hearty appreciation had
rarely heard equaled. Not only did he dwell
upon the exuberance of his humor, but upon
the power OF his pathos and the all-pervading
element of his poetry. looked at the man
in establishment. l had considered myself a
rather diligent student of the great master of
fiction, but the strangers felicity of quota
ton and Illustration staggered me. 1t is
true that his thought was not always clothed
in the best language, and often appeared in
the slouching, slangy undress of the place and
period, yet it never was rustic or homespun,
and sometimes struck me with its precision
and fitness. Considerably softened toward
him, l tried him with other literature. But
vainly. Beyond few of the lyrical and emo
tional poets, he knew nothing. Under the
influence and enthusiasm of his own speech,
he himself had softened considerably; offered
to change horses with me, readjusted my
saddle with professional skill, transferred my
pack to his own horse, insisted upon my shar-
Ing the contents of his whiskey flask, and,
noticing that was unarmed, pressed upon
me silver mounted derringer, which he as
sured me he could warrant" These vari-
GUS 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 unacceptable. We were evident
ly pursuing a route unknown to me. l
pointed out the fact to my companion a little
impatiently. He instantly resumed his old
manner and dialect.
swell, 1 reckon one trails as good as
another, and what hev ye got to say about
it?"
l pointed out, with some dignity, that 1
preferred the old trail.
''Mebbee you did. But you're jiss now
takin' pGsedr with me. This yer trail will
bring you right into Indian Spring, and on.
noticed, and no questions asked. Don't you
mind now, I'll see you through"
1t was necessary here to make some stand
against my strange companion. said firm
ly, yet as politely as | could, that had pro-
posed stopping over night with friend.
"Whar?'
I hestated. The friend was an eccentric
Eastern man, well known in the locality for
his fastidiousness and his habits as recuse.
A misanthrope of ample family and ample
means, he had chosen secluded but pictur-
esque valley in the Sierras, where he could
rail against the world without opposition.
"Lone Valley" or "Boston Ranch'' as it was
more Familiarity called, was the one spot that