A Frontier Bohemian

The suu was setting on the Maverick ralley. As I walked to the door of the ranch a few parthian arrows from his declining bow splintered themselves among tlie dusky tops of the live oaks. Tbeie was a fiiint pink glow all around the horieon that on its western threshold lingered in feathery flecks of crimson and gold. The brief twilight of Texan latitudes waa already hastenitig through the thin files oL inesquite that stood like straggUng pickets before the Windows of the little cabin. A silence wa3 falling over the hushed landdcaie - "vast, measureless, complete. ' ' Certainly I had some excuse for the sudden lonelineas that feil upon me. It was the first time in my border life that I had been left upon the trackless prairie, solitary and alono. The annual shearing was just over. But an hour before our entire "outfit" had departed for a general merry making at a distant frontier town. As I had volunteered In acceptlng the position of cook during the past three weeks, and for that period hail labored to fill a recurrent and appalling vacuüm in eighteen able bodied men, niy efforta had naturally been somewhat debüitatlng. Amld that exuberance of society, in which solitude seems a myth, I had declined conviviality and elected repose. I was left behind as custodian, of tlie ranch. But as I stepped from the door for the purpose of penning the buck herd, I was beginning to regret my choice. I realized that I - a "tenderfoot," with only a three months' residence in the state - was alone upon an area of 50,000 acres without let or limit; that my nearest neighbor was flve miles oway, over a chartless, emerald sea, to be traversed only by aid of that shifting guide, the sun; that my only companions in this primitiva wildemess were thirty-flve merino bucks of contemplative and exclusive tendencies; a shepherd dog, which was immaturely effusive andslobberinglydemonstrativeuponbeing addressed as "M;ss Plo," and an ebony cat that wore a inangy and somewhat dissipated exterior under the sobriquet of "Miss Emma." A dearth of the consolations of female society apparently inspires the native Texan to a courteous ackuuwledgment of the sex of domestic pets. When, therefore, I hart driven the horned contingent of mjr associates lnto their rude brush pen, and had fastened the hnrdle gate, I stood leaning agalnst it and seriously regarding them. It did not ftdd to the cheerfulness of my surroundings to notice that they boro an unmistakable reseniblance to a company of hook nosed Jews; tiiat their knees were sprung With the rheumatism of agej that their eyes wero rheumy and inflamed, and that they appoared to be unusually afflicted that evening with snuffles and chronic catarrh. Besides, they were so fresh from tho shears that the air of venerable wisdom which thcir faces arrogated seemed to be caricatured by the rest of their bodies. They were so repulsive in appearance that I at once ílu bbed the most disreputable specimen "Fagin" - a baptismal inspiration that eventually achloved popularity. Then, with that hypocrisysvhich characterizes mau when lonely, I began to patronize my mueh abused dog, and even the feline antique; for both liad accompanied me in my pastoral duties. After which I walked back to the ranch. Iïere I encountcred another dubious object, that in my then dejected condition atruck me as almost ominous. This was a pet lizard which, for the past month, had inhabited the neighhoring kitchen - a long, lowstructure with a canvas roof - and which was now perched upon the doorstep. But "Tommy" was on the present occasion very much out of luck. Ho wus uot, under the most favorable circmnstances, a prepossessing ject. lio was brick red, covereil with polka dot8 of black, and had a diabolical leer about the eye. "Tommy," however, had now unaccountably lost Iris tail, aud was bviously so humiliated and dispirItcd that he unconsciously infected and aggnivated my own melancholy. I opened the door of the kitchen, into which ho lmmedintely dived and hid his diminished lizardship from view. Entering tlio little cabin, and act-ing from a fecling of generoua hospitality that must have struck both as phenomenal, I invitod the companionship of "Miss Flo" aud "Míís Emma." Tnen I lighted the lamp, and drawing the solitary chair of tho apartinent to a convcnient distance, pioked up a volume of "Macaulay's Essays" (for we were fortunately blessed with an abundance of literature), and disposed mysclf to rcad. I remember thinking, as I settled myself into a comfortable position, that I would niake amends for my enforced lsolation by profound literary culture, and rather plummj; myself npon hovv much beneflt 1 sLould derive from this prairie study. But?I made singularly little progresa that evening. I found myeelf eutirely unablo to concéntrate my attention. I was oppressed by an indefiuable feeling of dread that at last culminated in a nervous sensation of being observed. I tlirew aside my book in disgust, and endeavored to account for it. It was now pitch dark outside. I was Sitting at a little desk that, from the poverty of our housebold furniture, was Obliged to perform manifold duties. j night it was somewhat oveilmnlenedwith j frontier bric-a-brac, conspicuous among which was a larcte Colt' revolver and cartridge belt. I percel ved that, as I sat, I was directly In line with the two Windows of the ranch- ono on the south, the other on the north side of the house. Purtiy from a feeling of caution which one acquires on the frontier, and partly from t'.iis nervousness I could not explain, I shifted my chair aroiyid against the wall until I faced the BOUthern window. In effectini? this chango of position I sucCeede:l in trading on Miss Emma and eliscommoding Miss Flo, who, ifter looking at me in a Rtieved fashion, accommodated herself to iinuthcr qcurter with the usual caiuiK' philoaophy ar.d circumlocution. As I tilted my chair agaiust the door and assumed an aggressive attitude toward the opposite window, I noticed a few drops of water apon the panes, and was then for the flrst time aware that it was raining. A moment after a vivid flash of lightning illumiiiated the darkness without, opening up phosphorescent vistas in the mesquites with startling suddenuess. Brief as was the Interval for observatiou, it was sufSeient to confirm luy suspicions. Amid the loud reverberations of the tliunder clap that folio wed, I was con IIdent that I had seeii a man lurking iu the Bcanty shrubbery outside. I cannot describe how much I was disconcerted by this discovery. I was alone In a wild and lawless country, where a man nilght be attacked and murdcred without a chance of succor. I was in a lighted room, whoae unshuttered Windows stared into the black night so glaringly, that practically I was as dpfenseless to an enemy hid in the darkness without, as if shut in a glass case. As this thought leaped to my brain, I suddenly exünguishcd the light and groped for the revolver and cartridge belt, resolving to make as determincd a stand as possible. Securing both, I buckled on the belt and backed against the door, in order to resist any forcible entrance. In this deflant attitude I waited, the storm contiuuing to rage without. A Texan thunder storm is at all tunes awe inspiring. I do not think I ever lived a more thrilling existence than during the brief interval I crouched in the darkness of that little cabin, which was incessantly lighted by the blue flashes that seemed to leap from window to window, and which shook tremulously under the crash of the shattering reporta that followed one another in quick succession. My excitement reached its height when, during one of these sudden Uluminations, I perceiyed pressed against the pane and peering into the room a wild, red face, with long gray beardand disheveled hairstreamingin the wind. The apparition, seen by the lurid light, was so malevolent that I think I was only prevented from flriug at it by the brief interval of the flash. When the lightning gleamed again the face was gone, and I was certain now I could hear sorne one grouping his way along the side of the house, evidently supporting him8elf in that way against the charging gusts of wind and sharp fusillade of the drlring rain. At the same time Miss Flo became uneasy and barked loudly. "Hulloa, herel" shouted o gruff volee. I hastily relighted the lamp and opened the door in some trepidation. There entered a tall figure, so gratuitously limp and bedrangled with rain as to be almost grotesque; so worn with travel and with such an uttor weariness of life in the eyes as to be really pathetic. The clothes that he woro were torn and abraded, exposing a sub-stratum of red flannel at the knee, which gave him a ludicrons suga;estion of having worn himself down to the quick from the excess of his devotions. His shrunken pantaloons encroached upon the calves of his lega, and, as he was without stockings, this lack of intimacy with his hob nailed hoes exposed a pair of verygaunt and reluctaut ankles. His beard and hair were long, straggling and unkempt, and were surmounted by an extravagant slouch luit of the frontier pattern. Running over the scant details of my f ormer apparition, I mentally classifled him at once as a "border tramp." But I was lonely that evening and disposed to be polito. I therefore ofEered him the only chair in the room, stretched myself upon the low bed and calmly awaited developments. "Good evening." he said, In a rather husky but pleasant voice, asho lapsed Into the chair. Then he took off his broad hat with a swirl of spattering rain drops, wiped his forehead with a red bandana handkerchief, ruminated a íew minutes, replaced his hat, and finally producing a pipe and a plug of tobáceo began slowly cutting up and crumbling the latter - the usual f routier preliminaries to a smoke. I watched his movetucnts with absorbing interest. He reminded me so forcibly of pictures of the lainented John Brown, that I was more than ever inciined to accept the "singular conflicting conditions of that martyr's soul and body," as ex - emplifled in the popular song. Whenhe had finally lighted his pipe and emitted sevcral curling rings of smoke, this odd figure vouchsafed the inforniation that he had come across country in the hope of assisting us in shearing. I inforraed hira that we had just finished that day for the season. He seemed to experience some regrot at tuis, and for a time smokerl on in silence. Atlength, his eyes happening to fall upon my relinquished volume, he took it up, glanced over it hastily, and laid it down again. "You have been reading Macaulay?" he said. I assented in some surprise. "Ah!" said my strange puest; "a wonderful maní a wonderlul man, that same Macaulay! What a genius, what a learning, what a noble sty le he had, tobesurel" Then throwing his head back and narro wing his wild eyes, he suddenly broke out: " 'An acre In Mlddlesex ia worth a principality ia Utopia; the smallest actual good is bettcr tlian the most magnificent promises of impossibilities; the wise man of the Stoics would, no doubt, be a grander object than a steam engine. But there are steam engines. And the wise man of the Stoics 8 yet to lie bom. A philosophy which should enable a man to feel perfectly happy when in the agonies of pain may be better than a philosophy tliat can assuage pain. But we know that there are remedies that will assuago pain; and we know that the ancient sages liked the toothuche as little as their neighbors.' " I sat up in some amazement at thls effort at memory. For the past three months, having associated with individuals whose vocabularies hardly ventured beyond the possibilities of "right smart" and "away over y onder," Iwas somewhat startled, I admit. "Are y ou a native of thls state, sir?" I asked, with great respect. "No," replied he, tnrm'ng full upon me for an instant those singular cycs of nis. "I am, like yourself, a northerner." "Let me offer you a better pipe," I said, pointing out to him the caso containing my best mcerschaum; "you will find some excellent Cavendish in that jar." He gave me a quick glance, as if appreciative of my hospitality, but declined, saying that long habit had given him a preference for the natural Jeaf. "Wlmt is your college?" he suddenly asketl, as I was fllling a pipe preparatory to Joining him. "Yalo," I answered, with the pardonable pridc of all sons of that alma mater; "and yours?" "I seldom mistake a collegian," remarked my incongruous visitor; " 'Infardum, Regina, jubes renovare dolorem.' I hail f rom Dartmouth." I had made the inquiry more from politeness than any other motive, and yet, at the moment of my speaking, it dashcd across me that he must be college bred. Now that I was assured of it, I feit a sincere regret in seeing one who had enjoyed such advantages at such wretched odds with fortune. He rnusi have divined what pass! türough my miud, lor he glanced humedly- and half sadly, as t seemed to me - over hls forlorn garmeuts, and then raising his eyes to mioe, and with a gleam of humor lurking beneath hls shaggy brows, said: "And pray, sir, how carne a gentleman of your edacatlon and intelligence down in tuis God forsaken country?" I smiled, and attributed my advent to the adventurous spirit of the Nineteenth century, for want of a better reason. He took my answer in the spirit in which it was given, and appeared in a sense to be relieved by it, as if it established a boud of uniou between us, it struck me. But he resisted all inquines of mine into lus antecedents or past history, meeting my hints and questions with adroit evasión and skillful changes of the subject. And so, in the quiet night - for the rain had now ceased, and the moon, riding high, silvered the wan landscape, and fringed the dripping foliaco with flashing gems - we drifted back to the topic with which we began and talked of literary themes. It has been my privilege to converse with not a few cultured and learned men, and to enjoy the society of some of the most brilliant of modern conversationists; but, as I sat and listened that evening to tbe words that feil from the lips of this frontier bohemian, it seetned to me that my acquaintance with the nature of true eloquence had just begun. It was "like reading Homer by üashes of lightning." What a wealth of bold imagery, of keen appreciation, of suggestive analogy, of marvelous iusight was therel And what a treasure house of memory! And when he finally lupsed iuto monologue, and indulging in a rhapsody upon the wondere of Milton, quoted from "Paradise Lost" by paragraph and page, I thought of Macaulay's boast that if the great poet's immortal epic should by any chance be lost to men, he might hope to reproduce it; and my admiration for the attainments of the man swept over me in one vast wave of wonder. And then, as I lay there, listening to his deep voice, which had grown singularly rich and sonorous, as if in sympathy with the digmty oí those grand penods, pondering what strange chance or force oï circumstance had compelled this incongruous being to such surroundings, liis form suddenly dilated, hi3 lips parted as if in terror, his eres became fixed on vacancy and staring, and with a sudden spring to his feet, he stood erect and menacing. "Avaunt!" he cried, gazing with a wild and frenzied stare into the empty air. "Avaunt I and quit raysight! Begone, I 8ayl Think'st thou to dog my footsteps alwaysf To hound me to the day of my death? Backl Backt G-r-r-rhr! Take your grip from off my neck! AvaunM" ]Ic dashed his hands to his throac, clutching it wildly, and striding to the door, flung it wide open, glaring long and flercely out into the quiet night with a frenzied and hnnted expreasion. Then he camo slowiy back to the table, tottering feebly and muttering incoherently, threw himself into his chair, and, covering his haggarrl face with both is tretnbling hands, shuddered and gasped alternately. Great beads oí agony stood npoa his brow. I wa3 so startled by this sndden outburst that I conld only stare and sit Bpeechless. When he flrst rose I was under the impression that it was to gire greater force to some terriflc denunclation. Not untll he toro open the door did I realize that it was the hallucination of illness, and even then my consternation was so great os to deprire me of all power to act or speak, The paroxysm soon passed. Mcanwhile, I had poured some brandy into the cup of my pocket flask and offered it to him. He drank it with a foverish eagerness. By degrees the stimulant seemed to overeóme his nervous apprehension. He sat for a long time with listless, leaden eyes. Then he roso wearily and asked. in a humble. deprecating fashion, iL tbere were any place where he mlght sleep that night. Thero was something so piteóos, so nnutterably wretched in this appeal, coming from one whose wonderful discourse had so delighted me, that I was indescribably touched. "Surely," sald I to myself, "such abilities as I have recognized thi3 night shall not be without shelter." I instantly placed ray bed at kis disposal. After much remonstranco and reluctance, I, at last, got hitn to bed, and he laid himseli down with a long, low, agonizing sigh - tho sigh ot one to whom life is weariness and existence a burden. As I stepped to the table near whlch he had been sitting, I observed a small tin box, something like a tobáceo box, lying In his empty chair. I picked it up mechanically. Such a singular odor rose from this box that I was tompted to open it almost unconsciously. It was half full of a grayish brown drug. I examined it curiously. Opium! I glanced toward the bed. He was lying apparently in a heavy sleep. I closed the lid of tho box and placed it quietly beside hiui. Full of conjecture for the past of tho unfortunate being who occupied mjr bed, I wrapped mysflf in my blanket and lay down beneath the window. There was no sound in the quiet night save the occasional long bowl of the coyote from the hill. For a long time I lay awake, pondering over tho singular converaation of the erening and its startling denouement. I wondered if his halluciuation could be directly traced to opium, and what strange misfortune could have placed hira under tho tluall of the deudly drug. And then my thoughts recnrred to his quotation from Macaulay, "But we know that there are remedies that will assuage pain." What was the pain or what tho sorrow? Unconsciously ia my long rêverie I had turned toward him. He was sleeping peacefully in the wan light. The pale moon, looking over the crest of a western divide, stole through tho files of sentinel mesquites in a long pencil, and rested like a ghostly arm upon his breast. I thought, "Tbe sister of Apollo has him Ín her keeping," and I feil asleep. But in the moruüig, the hands folded upon the breast were pulseless and cold, the face was waxen and still, and, hushed in the fearful calni of lifo's great mystery, the old man eloquent was dead.- Howard Seely in The Arjronaut.