The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1882-11-17
THE SHADOwY HAND.

have a considerable sum of money about me,
and on several occasions the possession there.
of has rendered me verv uneasy but no
more than that of which speak
had been assigned 20 a large territory in
the West, region rough and mountainous,
! and which, / had cause 10 believe, abosnded
in lawless spirits who might possibly give me
some trouble. A person Of my calling is
always supposed to have a large sum of mo-
ney about him when he has been out for a
| number of days or weeks and many is the
time that have seen people look at me with
! an expression on their faces that spoke loud
er than words how much they would like a
I chance OF seeing what my wallet contained.
/ But thus far they never have had their wishes
! gratified in this respect, and, so long as my
faithful six-shooter does not play me false, 1
| don't mean that they shall.
! One day at noontIme saw me in one of the
/ little villages of the West hemmed in on all
sides by high peaks and lofty summit passes
I had transacted my business there, and now
| sought the landlord of the inn to learn the
| way to the next village that had wished to
/ visit. From him learned that IL was TWEEN
( ty miles by the public road, and rough and
hillv into the bargain.
! but is there no nearer way ?" ] asked.
:" If the road is il the state you say, it will
be long after nightfall before can reach
there, and it looks much as though we might
have a rainfall presently
There is road over the mountains" he
answered, after pause, but it has not
been much used of late years. and the way
is rough. Still, it can be got over, and as it
Is but little oyer half the distance it is by the
main road, you will get to SiIby fully an hour
I earlier than you could by that way
Then | shall try it. for 1 want to get
there before the storm, if possible"
Keep the road straight ahead, and keep
your eyes open," he said.
Thank you, shall do so," l answered.
Good day."
"Good day." and the landlord waved his
hand as rode away.
For hours l wound along the most wretch
ed road 1 ever saw. Every now and then
path would branch off, leading. apparently,
into the heart of the forest. The afternoon
passed away and night came on, and still
there was no change in the road no sign of
my being near to Siloy. All was the same
dreary wilderness as that through which I
had been passing so many hours. With the
coming of the darkness the rain began to fall
This added to the disc uict had already felt.
for feared that had left the road and got
into one Of those paths that led knew not
whittier.
Faster and faster fell the rain, and with
every moment the gloom increased, until the
darkness was such that it could almost be
felt. Still l plodded on, feeling there was
little chance of reaching my place of desti-
nation, but with the hope that might STUN
bic upon some cabin that possessed human
inhabitants, where / could find fire and
shelter for the night. More than an hour
passed, and had nearly given up ali hopes
of finding shelter, when l beheld the CLEAN
OF light before me. Encouraged bv the
sight, L urged my horse onward, and in few
minutes found myself in front of a low cab
IN thro' the one window of which the light
cleaned that had attractedmy attention.
Dismounting, 1 approached and raped
loudly upon the door There was the sound
OF shuffiinR feet within, then it was thrown
open, and man, holding a candle In his
hand, appeared upon the threshold and de-
manded whatl wanted As the Iieht flashed
upon bis face / had the impression that I
had seen it before but it was gone In a mo-
ment. In answer to his demand, I told him
wanted shelter for myself and horse for
the night, and that if in the morning he
would guide me to Siiby he would be suit
ably rewarded
lie made some reply, the burden of which
could not catch owing to the driving of the
rain and then, setting the candle down upon
the foor, he came out, saying. as he laid his
hand upon my horses bride, Tain't verv
good quarters that you'll get here, mister
out perhaps It's better than it is out in the
rain."
ANY shelter Is better than none on such
night as this" | answered, and followed
hlm round to a rude hoveI, where he did the
best be could for my horses comfort.
Ihen we went into the cabin. He picked
up the candle he had placed upon the floor.
observing. as he did so, 81 keep bachelors
nall here-so you are hungry, Isuppose %
replied In the Affirmative AS drew I'D
70 the fire that shone upon the hearth. the
neat of which was very grateful after nv
exposure to the storm, 1 watched nv host as
ne placed some bread and meat upon the ia
ole, and his very look and motion went to
confirm the impression that had seen him
before; and then it flashed upon NV mind
When and where. 1t was among the rough
unshorn loafers that were hanging around
the bar.
The food being set out, he placedsa rude
seat near the table, and told me nv sumner
was ready, making some excuse because it
was not better. l answered him that it was
as good as / desired and as hunger is the
pest appetizer man can have, l did the
coarse provender ample ju stice When
was satisfied l resumed my seat once ;,ore
oy the fire, and tried to enter into converss-
tlon with my host, but 1 made poor head
way. be did not seem inclined to talk and
after while gave it up and we sat there
In silence for some time, he ever and anon
stealing glancs at me from under his shag
gy eyebrows, which, In spite of myself made /
me feel uneasy when l reflected about the
money upon me. At last, tired of this.
told him L would like to go to bed, IL he had
place where l could lie down. Upon this /
he rose and led the way into the other small |
apartment Of the cabin, and setting down 1
the candle. went out and closed the door.
There was rude bed in the corner of the 1
room, covered with ragged quilt, and upon /
this threw myself without taking off NV
clothes. My six shooter placed beside me I
where l could lay my hand upon it at a mo- /
ment's notice, and then blew out the can
die and tried to sleep. But that soon dis
covered was impossible to do. A nameIess
kept me awake. | could hardly
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