The morning call., 1890-11-30
a WESTERN ELAINE.
Thompson of Monterey Tells of a Girls Broken Heart
WRITTEN FOB THE SUNDAY CALL BY CLAY NJ GREENE

But I am deeply interested in the strange CO.
incidence you have mentioned, an0 should
like to hear it through" .,
Would yer mind comm home with me
then and hayin' a bite OF supper WIN me
and the old woman"
81 should desire it above all things"
"Come on then, and we've got to hurry or
she'll be a worryin'."
With a nod TO Sancho, he led the way
toward the river. Not a word was spoken
rs we silently trod the circuitous trail down
the cliff, and, arriving at the waters edge,
the old man pointed to the boat, and l took
my place in the bow. He seated himself
amidShips, and the Indian, with dexterous
movement. pushed the boat into the stream,
took his place in the stern, and, paddle In
hand, pointed her PROV toward the bend IN
the river which the old man had spoken of.
1t was a weird almost fantastic picture,
the setting sun just disappearing behind
the western sea, casting long shadows from
the pines upon the placid surface OF the
water, the rudely constructed boat, with its
three strangely contraSted occupants, gliding
along noiselessly through the twilight
The silence was almost painful, not even
the dip of the paddle in the water nor the
nipples in our wake giving forth the falntest
sound. The old man. his hands clasped
about his knees kept his eyes fastened upon
the cliff we had just left, and his entire
bearing was one of utter obllvlouSness
to his surroundings The silent sherman
Piled his paddle in a measured and mechani-
cal way; while his face bore the same stolld,
malignant expression L had noticed before.
Finding myself almost dropping into the
belief that | must have fallen asleep among
the pines on the cliff, aud that this uncanny
voyage in the mysterious dugout must be
some strange dream, | satisfied myself as to
its reality by breaking the silence.
NV friend, you have not told me your
name.''
Call me Thompson-that'll do"
"Haye you lived in this neighborhood
long2' >,
"How long?"
"I'll tell yer by and by"
His replies to my interrogatories were
given in lstless, Indifferent manner, which
obviously betokened Il repugnance to con-
versation. for the time being. at least. so l
permitted silence to reign again.
For the next twenty minutes we glided
noiselessly through tue gathering shadows,
when the boats PROV was turned toward
the shore, and with sigh of relief and a
pang of satisfaction | became aware that
we had reached the objective point OF our
journey. Sancho stepped into the shallow
water and pushed the boat high up on the
Thompson l rose from my position in the
bow ana stepped out upon the sand SanchO,
quite Indifferent TO our presence, sat upon
the boat, rested his chin in the palms of his
hands and looked out toward the setting
sun. Thompson turned to me and spoke:
well go to the house now, mister, and
want to tell you this one thing l wouldn't
a brought you hyer orly't you don't know
Spanish and I'd be afraid we might get to
talkin' about our trouble. That's s0methin'
l amt mentioned to the old woman sence it
happened, cause | feel that the least sud-
dnt start'd break her old heart. L guess
| you'll hat ter tell me yer name, cause the
old woman'll want TO be introduced. For
altho' we're poorcr'n them crows over on
the beach thar. she's got some O. them high
fautin' idees size picked up among the
proud old MeXicans afore Fremont took
Californy."
my names Browning" I replied.
"Wall, Mister Browning, just foller me. !"
did so In silence. In a few moments we
reached the summit of the little bluff on
which the old adobe stood. Neatness
reigned everywhere, and | breathed the
Lilies, roses, hollyhOcks, heliotrOpe and
mignOnette grew all about me in luXuriant
abundance, and the white washed walls Of
the old adobe were almost covered with a
golden mass If nasturtium vines.
"Mister Browning, this ERE little garden
O. mines my only care now, and | spend
most all my time among them beds a-beauti-
fyi1' on 'em, and a-inakin' on EN- Jest as
bright an pleasant as ! kin fur her sake :;
for it's beautiful things thet softens the SOL
itude uv a lonely heart And the only
beautiful things | kin give tn her now is
them flowers, nursed inter life by me, an
painted by the hand O God. Thar she is
now, in her old seat"
Looking toward the point indicated by
the wave of his hand, l beheld a dark
skinned. white-haired woman dressed in
black. She had been seated upon a rustic
bench in small arbOr. formed by an in
geniOusly interviewer mass Of heliotrOpe
bushes, but rose at our approach and ad-