San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-02-05


l had several days for preparation, I'M
til my companions, the mail riders, should
arrive. One morning l was busy max
ing up my packs of such luxuries as ]
have mentioned for the journey, when i
heard the clatter of horses feet, and OBJ
served a stranger approach and ride up
to the door of my shanty. He was
mounted upon powerful iron gray
horse, and drove a pack mule and an
Indian pony.
My name was on an deliberately painted
single over the door. 1t was my own
handiwork, and quite lion in that
region. felt whenever l inspected that
bit of high art that, fail or win at the
mine, had resource. Indeed, my Pike
neighbors seemed to consider that was
unjustifiably burying my artistic talents.
Many a not unseemly octagonal slug,
with Moffatt g. Co.'S imprimatur of
value, had been offered me if would
paint up some miners hell, as "The True
Paradise" or "The Shades and Caffy de
Paris"
The newcomer read my autograph on
the shingle, looked about, caught sight
of me at work in the hot shade, dis
mounted, fastened his horses and came
toward me. 1t was not the fashion in
California at that time to volunteer
civility or acquaintance. Men had to
announce themselves and prove their
claims. / sat where was and surveyed
the stranger.
1.-THE Adonis of the copperskinsw !
said to myself. "This is the Young
Eagle or the Sucking Dove or the
'Maiden's Bane,' or some other great
chief of the cleanest Indian tribe on the
continent. A beautiful youth! o Feni-
more, why are you dead? There are a
dozen romances in one look of that young
brave. One chapter might be written
on his fringed buckskin shirt; one on his
equally friuged leggings, with their stripe
of porcupine quilts, and one short chap
ter on his moccasins, with their scarlet
cloth instep piece, and his cap Of otter
fur decked with an eagles feather. What
a poem the fellow is! wish was an
Indian myself for such companion; or,
better, squaw, to be made love to by
him."
AS he approached, Iperceived that he
was not copper, but bronze. A paleface
certainly. That is, a pale face tinged
by the brazen sun of California sum-
mer. Not less handsome, however, as a
Saxon, than an Indian brave. AS soon
as l identified him as one of my own
race, began to fancy had seen him
before.
If he were but shaved and clipped,
black coated, booted, gloved, hated
with shiny cylinder, disarmed of his
dangerous looking arsenal, and armed
with plaything of cane-in short, if
he were metamorphosed from knight
Grant into q CARPET knight. changed
from a smooth rough into smooth
smooth-seems to me l should know
him, or know that l had known him
once.
He came up, laid his hand Familiarity
on my arm, and said: 'What, Wade?
Don't you remember me? John Brent.
81 hear your voice. begin to see you
now. Hurrahl"
HOW was IL L ulu HUI ISOoSnlA0 you'
said l, after a fraternal greeting.
"Ten years have presented me with
this for disguise" said he, giving his
mustache a twirl. "Ten years of ex-
perience have taken all the girl out of
me-"
"What have you been doing these ten
years since college, o many sided manY'
"Grinding my sides against the ada
mant, every one"
"Has your diamond begun to see light |
and shine"
''The polishing dust dims it STILL"