Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-05-16

kept up that cold defiant silence which
Britishers, when journeying with stran-
gers, love. But when the fourth time
we found ourselves laundering north
together we broke the ice-by the usual
means, of coursc-by means of the door
sash and the weather; and presently,
as the last CLEAN of Greater London
faded out behind us, we were chatting
like old acquaintances, exchanging SEN
tirnents, cigars and cards. My COM
panion was back in England from ten
years roughing it in the far west, he
told me; he was tired of life on the raw
edge of civilization, and he had made
little pile. So he meant to start stock
breeding, and settle down.
For a time our chat was ordinary
chat, on commonplace themes. But
when we returned from the refrcshment
room at Bletchley and found ourselves
left alone in the compartment our talk
soon turned on topics deep and strange;
for in the midst of jcsting story he
ceased abruptly, looked moody and
threw away q newly-lit cigar. Then he
stared ut me, pondercd, frowned, got
up, sat down and suddenly began n story
of a very different sort.
-Four times in as many MONTHS"
said he, tive have ridden north to-
gether, you and I. Four times fate has
thrown US together in the same train,
in the same carriage, in the Same com
partment. We must not ride together
any more. Next time, if you value life
at all, avoid me. For I'm q man with
curse; I'm fatal to my friends"
stared at him in wonder, almost in
fear. This tall, broad-shouldered,
| fourteen-stone, hale, thirty-fve- years
old, bccr-drinlking Englishman-lovcr
of horses, cricket, football-as common
place as any individual gently bred
| may be-to talk like that! Instructive
/ Iy l sided toward the window, over
| which the checll-cOrd ran. lie saw the
| movement.
'Oh, no." said he, "don't mistake me.
I'm not mad. my dear fellow; not the
least bit mad, assure you. You have
nothing to fear from me so long as you
avoid me and don't become my chum.
You are just the man I'd like to have
with me long nights out ranching; but
then, you see, you'd die before the year
was up. I'm fatal to my friends"
us this joker" said, cor are you
talking in your sleep, or what?"
cts just straight, solid, sober, down
right earnest" was the reply. Listen,
and judge for yourself"
And then he began his story, telling
1t much as I write it down. For con-
venience and concealment let me call
him Stone.
Ten years before, young Stone had
left Northumbria for the prairies, talk
ing with him Liverpool man to learn
to ranch. Four months they spen5 to-
Igether, learning the trade and liking it.
lone day they rode to the nearest town,
for dip into something like civiliza-
ton again, and after a week of it they
started back to the ranch. At the last
inn on the roadside they stopped for q
drink of lager, and before they had
ridden a hundred yards further on,
Stone went back for glove that he
had left on the bar; the other man rode
slowly forward.
81 got the glove" said Stone, as he
told me the story. 81 mounted again
and rode after Fred There was bond
in the road, and for a time could see
nothing of him. But as turned the
bend his horse came neighing towards
me, riderless. Poor Fred lay dead in
the road, in front of me-dead, with a
broken neclx-thrown, and a frst-class
horseman tool
"Well, you don't think much of that,
do you? Might happen to anyone
that. But what do you say to girl
out there, who was friendly with me-
dropping off just as suddenly. She was
Yankee farmers daughter, pretty