Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1891-04-04
aHe says you're a pryin scounarel,-


my amiable equestrian friend, is itp I'm
sure I'm much obliged to him. And
when, may ask, did he bore you with
his opinion Of me?'
Last night, when he come to see
William Jones. lie said wasn't to be
took no more, cause you was u scoun-
drel poking and prying."
Brinkley began TO whistle, and went
OH fer while vigorously touching up
his work. Then he looked up and re-
garded the girl curiously.
"Mr. Monk seems TO be very much in
terested in yoa, Matt?"
The girl nodded her head violently;
then, remembering the odious caress to
which Mr.. Monk had subjected her. she
began to violently rub her cheek again.
"Why is Mr.. Monk so interested in
your Do you know"
"P'raps it's cause he found me when
/ come ashore"
"Oh, he found you, did he? Then why
doesn't he keep your"
"He do, only live along o. William
Jones'"
Again Brinkley began whistling light
| ly, and working away vigorously with
his brush. Presently the conversation
began again.
"Matt, what things did you come
ashore inY"
II dunnol"
"You have never heard whether any
thing was found with you which might
lead to your finding your relationsr"
mo; no more has William Jones. He
says maybe they'll find me some day
and reward him, but Mr.. Monk says
they were all drowned, and / amt got
no friends 'cept him and William
Jones'"
"Well, since he found you, suppose
he ought to know; and since you hare
no relations, Matt, and no claim upon
anybody in the world, it was very kind
of Mr.. Monk to keep you, instead of
/ sending you to the workhouse as he
might have done"
On this point Matt seemed rather
skeptical.
@Well," continued Brinkley, as he
went on lightly touching up his work.
perhaps 1 have done my equestrian
friend a wrong. Perhaps his unamiable
exterior bellies his real nature; perhaps
he Is good and kind, generous to the
poor, willing to help the helpless-like
you, for instance"
"Is it him?" exclaimed Matt; Monk,
Of Monkshurst! Why he don't give
nothin' to nobody. No fear"
"And yet, according to your own
showing, he has helped to support you
all these years-you, who have no claim
whatever upon him."
This was an enigma to which Matt
had no solution. She said no more, but
Brinkley. while he continued his paint
ing, silently ruminated thus:
1T strikes me this puzzle would be
worth unraveling if l could only find
the key. Query, is the young person
the key, if bfit knew how to use her?
Perhaps, since the amiable Monk evil
IDENTIFY dislikes my coming iSto COM
munication with her. But it would be
useless to lay the case before her, since,
if she is the key, she is quite uncon-
scous Of it herself"
lie threw down his brush, rose and
stretched himself, and said:
Look here, Matt, I'm tired of work.
The sun shining on those sand-hills and
OH the far-off sea is too tempting. l
shall go for walk, and you, if you are
in the mood, shall be my guide"
She evidently was in the mood, for
she was on her feet in an instant
"All right, master" she said, I'll go."
"yery well. Tim. bring some refresh
ment. We will refresh the inner mar
and girl before we start"
Tim disappeared into the caravan
Presently he reappeared bearing small
tray, on which was small flask OF
brandy, n large jug of milk, some bis
cults, and couple of glasses. This ht
placed on camp-stool, which his mas
ter had just vacated, and which, when
not in use as seat, served az a table
Brinkley poured out two glasses OF
milk. then, looking at Matt, he held the
little flask on high.
Brandy. Matty'
She shook her head.
very well, child; 1 think you are
wise. Here, take the milk and drink
confusion to your enemies"
Matt took the glass of milk and drank
it down, while Brinkley hastened to di.
lutte and dispose of the other. Then he
gave some orders to Tim, and they
started off. As they had no particular
object in view, they chose the pleasant.
est route, and clearly the pleasantest
lay across the sand-bills. Not because
the sand-hills were pleasant in them
sclves-they were not, especially on a
day when the sun was scorching the
roads and making the sea like mill
pond-but because by crossing the sand
hills one came on the other side upon a
foot-path which led, by various wind
ings, gradually to the top of breezy
cliffs.
To the sand-hills, therefore. they
wended their rway. Having gained them,
they followed route which Matt knew
full well, and which soon brought them
to the narrow foot-path beyond. Dur
ing the walk she was singularly silent,
and Brinkiey seemed to be busily trying
to work out some abstruse problem
which had taken possession of his brain.
When they had followed the foot-path
for some distance and had gained the
greensward on the top of the cliffs, tho
young man threw himself upon the
grass, and invited Matt to do the same.
1t was very pleasant there, soothing
both to the eye and to the mind. The
cliff was covered-somewhat sparsely,
Il is true-with stunted grass; and just
below, on their right, lay the ocean,
calm as any mill-pond, but signing soft
ly as the water kissed the rocks and
flowed back again with rhythmic throbs.
On their left lay the sand-hills, glitter
ing like dusty gold in the sun-rays,
while just before and below them was
the village.
@Do YOU see that house standing all
by itself, close to the shoreY said Matt,
pointing to the cottage where she lived.
THAT belongs to William Jones. And,
look We now, there be William Jones on
the rocks!"
Looking down, Brinkley beheld fig
ure moving along the rocks, just where
the water touched the edge.
~Very lazy of William jones'" he
said. AWhy isn't he at work."