The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1881-04-16
NORMAN LAMAR'S BOARDERS

lie stood rubbing his hands before
the huge log in the open chimney, with
its breastwork of wooden mantelpiece.
The morning was cold; the hoar frost
lay in rare fretted work all over the
prairies, and the breath of the cattle
became smoke as it met the atmosphere.
The man before the fire stood six feet in
his stockings his physique was superb !;
his shapely head was covered with little
crisp rings of yellow hair, and his blue
eyes wore just such mild meditative
expression as one sees in the eyes of the
gentler cattle. We grow like our COM
panions, and they had been his many
years. He was rubbing his hands, not
because they were cold, for they were
rs white and warm and supple as a
babes. The act was simply an express
sion of the pleasure he felt in the glow
from the great back log. The room was
rude and homely, but spacious, and not
lacking in comfort.
Standing in one of the easements was
a young lady, evidently accustomed to
far different surroundings. There was
an air of elegance about her. She had
been looking out the window at the wide
sweep of prairie and cattle ranging free.
Suddenly she brought her very hand
some eyes to bear, with frank criti-
cism, on the man upon the hearth, in
his blue flannel pantaloons and shirt
and red suspenders. Metaphorically
speaking, he owned "the cattle upon a
thousand hills )" in practical language,
he was one of the most extensive stock
raisers in the territory in which he lived.
Zaida Burdett felt in certain man
ner overpowered by the vastness of
things-the vast prairies, the vast sky,
and the vastness of this man, both as
regarding his proportions and the pos
sessions which he represented. He
seemed to her like one of the audacious,
handsome, plundering Gauls that Niche
let dwells on in his chapters about the
world when it was new, with their blue
ewes, yellow mustaches, and fair should
ers decorated with golden collars.
She felt almost sure that even the col
lar was somewhere out of sight under
his blue shirt. She was certain that he
had swooped down on things and owned
great deal more than rightly belonged
to him.
"He ought to marry a large, yellow
haired, fair-skinned Amazon, and peo-
pie the land with progeny that would
put to the blush the puny race one is
accustomed to-" she said to herself, and
suddenly became aware that she also
was being regarded.
" Pardon, mademoiselle, but l was
trying to make out your nationality; are
you French % he asked.
"What makes you think am" was
her reply.
A little amused smile crept from under
his yellow mustache.
"Your speech betrayeth you. None
but Yankee answers question with
another"
She laughed. :,
"You are right. Yet I call myself
cosmopolitan. Mamma and | live all
over the world. Last year we spent IN
London, the year before in Germany,
and SO way back since I was ten years
old. I'm twenty-three now"
Her frankness was enchanting.
"There is a good deal of Bohemian
ism about us. We always live IN apart
nents, so we can locate wherever we
choose. We haven't any particular OBJ
| iect in living-that is, not any high, ex'
allied purpose. We just try to have as
good time as the means papa LETT u
will admit"
Then she suddenly blushed up to hel
aparkling eyes to think she had beer