Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-04-01
an Original Sturp.
Written for the Yorkville Enquirer.
AMOS BARTON
BY L. ID. OZMOND.
CHAPTER V.

Joseph Baker was young man from the
country, fresh and unsophisticated. His
visit to San Francisco was an experimental
one he had an uncle there in business, who
had offered to give him start in life, pro-
vided he took kindly to clerking in mer'
chants office. But Joseph found this occu'
patton intolerable after the freedom OF the
country, and decided that he would rather
return to his fathers ranch.
He fingered in the city until near Christ
mas, and then took his departure, being
anxious to spend the holiday season with
his family.
, :. He made his journey by rail until within
a short distance of the ranch, and here a
team was to meet him and convey him the
rest of the way.
It was raining when he reached this STOP
ping-place, and the expected conveyance
not having arrived, he walked into rough
cabin which was used as waiting-room,
and sat down to exercise his patience in
the vicinity of rusty stove, where heap
of ashes still remained to show that fire
had once burned there.
While he waited, there came another
traveller upon the scene. This was re-
spectable-looking man, neatly dressed, but
with sad and rather vacant expression OF
face; he moved in a lingering, uncertain
way, and gazed about him as he entered
with bewildered expression, as if he was
not sure of his whereabouts. He stood for
a moment within the door, looking rather
apprehensively at young Baker; then, ap-
parently re-assured, advanced slowly and
spoke in timid, anxious tone
"Can you tell me, sir, if you please, how
far am from Sacramento?"
Sacramento !" repeated Baker. "Why,
you are not in that neighborhood at all.
Sacramento must be a hundred miles from
here!'
"a hundred miles lis tpossible? Then
have certainly been misdirected," said
the stranger.
"Did you come by the train?" asked Ba-
ker.
"No, I walked-that is partly. I have
walked perhaps a dozen miles to-day. l
am very weary and the rain has impeded
my progress it makes the roads so bad."
sYes, the roads in some places are very
bad" The young man as he spoke, looked
curiously at the new conner, whose man.
ner was certainly peculiar. Although ne
did not by any means appear to be an OBJ
iect of charity, yet there was something
forlorn and melancholy in his aspect that
excited sympathy.
"How far are you going to-night?" was
Bakers next question.
"My dear sir, I don't know. In fact, do
not know where ] am, nor how far have
come.n - -, --..,...,....l.,
Baker informed him of the locality, add
ing that he supposed he was stranger in
those parts.
Eyes, sir. And as said before, have
been misdirected-purposely, verify be-
lieve."
"Why purposely? 1t would be shah
by thing to do"
ga shabby thing-a villainous thing" re-
ioined the other with some excitement OF
manner. "But, sir, there are villains in the
world and plenty of them-plenty of them,
as I know to my cost"
"WelI, 1 suppose that's So" said Baker.
Luckily for me, haven't come in contact
with many of them. When I was in San
Francisco"
h!--hush !" cried the stranger, start
ing nervously, and hastily gancing around.
"Pray, pray, don't make any allnsion 10
that-to that"
s'To what?" asked Baker in surprise, as
he paused seemingly for the want of suit
able phrase.
"To that den of iniquity," was the en-
phatic rejoinder. Let me advise you, let
me entreat you, as you value your safety,
never to trust yourself within its snares.
If YOU have once done so and been fortunate
enough to escape unharmed, be thankful
for your good luck and don't tempt Provi-
dence by another trial J"
N know what's the matter, thought Ba-
ker; he's been speculating in stocks and
come out at the wrong end. If the brokers
have been playing with him, it's no wonder
he thinks San Francisco an unrighteous
place.)
At last was heard the sound of wheels.
and wagonette came in sight, driven by a
stout farmers boy in a shining oilskin suit.
"Here's my trap" exclaimed Joseph,
starting up joyfully. And taking his valise
he was about to depart with an unceremo-
nious "good-bye," when new idea occurred
to him and he paused.
81 say" he remarked, 81 don't like the
notion of driving off comfortably and leav-
ing you here alone at this time of the even
ing. Can't I take you somewhere? It's
dark for walking"
"Itas dark" assented the stranger.
"And it's raining now like bricks"
''It is raining pretty hard"
swell, come along with me. If you are
not sure of your way, suppose you stop at
our place for tonight. 1t isn't far from
here"
"Oh! you are very kind" was the rejoin'
der, "but such an act on my part, would, ]
fear, prove an intrusion"
"Oh! not at all, >" cheerfully replied Baker
"My father and mother will make you wei
come, know. And we've got lots of room
at the ranch"
''RealIy, I am most grateful" said the
other, and his pleased, relieved expression
confirmed his words. In minute more
they were spinning along the muddy road
the stout horses seeming quite indifferent tt
wind and wei, and evidently familiar enough
with the way to find the darkness no OBJ
stacle to their speed, while the lad who
drove explained elaborately to Baker the
cause of his delay in meeting him. A Wag
on had broken down about mile from the
ranch, and he-the boy-had found it neces
sary to assist the distressed driver to get i
to rights.