The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-09-19
LITTLE MAD AM.
CHAPTER 1.

conceived even oy an lmaglnation oI deepest cast of melancholy. The day was dark and rainy and wet birds fitting over the ruggedest road almost struck me in the face. No where could see a sign of civilized life. There came no tink, tank, tank of COW bells from the valley, nor on the mountain side was there sheep climbing with sure feet and cautiously nipping the damp grass that grew in the shadow of the great rocks.
 My business in this wild place-well, l had no business there. My idea was to escape business. Overwork naturally drives a man to the woods. There is within the breast of every man strong desire to trough it." and, as l looked about me, while riding along that lonely road, felt that my desire for "roughing it" would be more than satisfied. My musing was cut short. A wolf sprang into the road, about fifty yards in ad- vance of me. was not frightened; ] was pleased. lwould shoot him. had a large revolver and quickly drawing it, took what thought was direct aim, and fired. The wolf slowly turned his head, looked down into the valley and then looked at me. fired again. The wolf showed no signs of fear. Just as was about to shoot again, man stepped into the road, whistled to the wolf and walked toward me. The wolf wagged his tail and followed him.
 "Whut do you wanter kill my dog fur r' the man asked when he came within speaking distance.
 You must excuse me-" replied, "I thought he was a wolf"
 He don't look like a wolf, cap'n."
 "I thought he did"
 Did you ever see a wolff"
 "No, believe not"
 "Then what made you think he looked like wolff"
 "Well, l hardly know. Probably be- cause he did not look to me like dog l am very glad that did not hit him." l added in conciliatory tone.
 "You aip't as glad as l am. Which way you travelin'?"
 hardly know"
 "What's your name?"
 Millbank Hawkins" replied.
 My name is Ben Briar," he said. "They calls me Lank Ben, and they sometimes tells me that I am powerful ugly. What do you think about it2"
 Ben Briar was surely not handsome man, but as he looked at me, almost ap- pealingly, l felt that frankness on my part would be unpleasant to him.
 "I don't think that you are ugly, Mir. Briar."
 This pleased him. He stroked his dogs head, grinned and replied:
 "You air the fust one that ever had the nerve to say that Lank Ben aint ugly, CT haw, haw. Dog my cats if ain't glad to see you. So you don't know where you air goin'2"
 "No. am out to take a rest in the woods"
 "The woods is the right place to rest. Say, thar's heavy shower comin'," he added, pointing to black cloud that lowered over a desolate peak of the mountain. "You'd better go an stay with me till the furry is over. don't live fur down the valley. Come on. Let me lead your hoss."
 Before l had time to reply he had taken my bridle rein and was leading my horse down a rugged path that wound its way between the rocks. There was noth- ing about my conductors appearance that caused me the least alarm, for, there vas about his expression of countenance . frankness which seems especially to be the adornment of the plain face.
 "I air't got no house uv my own," Mir. Briar said. "I am livin' with ole fel- Ter that I've knowed fur long time an I works for him for my viddults."
 How do you get your clothesp" asked.
 "Dos my cats if know," he replied. aint hsd no new duds in 50 long that lwouldn't know how to caper in 'em. Old man Barker-thas's the man ! live wish-has had the rheumatiz fur year, m me an' Little Madam haster do ell tho work" t.f5e s
 sWho is Little Madam, his wifein {