by Bret Harte
chase, buck-horns and deer-heads, and a number of Indian arrowsstood in a sheaf in the corners beside a few modern guns and rifles.
"Perfectly lovely," said Marie, "but"--with a slight shiver of herexpressive shoulders--"a little cold and outdoorish, eh?"
"Nonsense," returned Kitty dictatorially, "and if he IS cold, he caneasily light those logs. They always build their open fires under atree. Why, even Mr. Gunn used to do that when he was camping out inthe Adirondacks last summer. I call it perfectly comfortable and SOnatural." Nevertheless, they had both tucked their chilly hands underthe fleecy shawls they had snatched from the hall for this hyperboreanexpedition.
"You have taken much pains for him, Kaitee," said Marie, with herfaintest foreign intonation. "You will like this strange uncle--you?"
"He is a wonderful man, Marie; he's been everywhere, seen everything,and done everything out there. He's fought duels, been captured byIndians and tied to a stake to be tortured. He's been leader of aVigilance Committee, and they say that he has often shot and killed menhimself. I'm afraid he's been rather wicked, you know. He's lived alonein the woods like a hermit without seeing a soul, and then, again, he'sbeen a chief among the Indians, with Heaven knows how many Indian wives!They called him 'The Pale-faced Thunderbolt,' my dear, and 'The YoungMan who Swallows the Lightning,' or something like that."
"And what can he want here?" asked Marie.
"To see us, my dear," said Kitty loftily; "and then, too, he has tosettle something about HIS share of the property; for you know grandpaleft a share of it to him. Not that he's ever bothered himself about it,for he's rich,--a kind of Monte Cristo, you know,--with a gold mine andan island off the coast, to say nothing of a whole county that he owns,that is called after him, and millions of wild cattle that he ridesamong and lassos! It's dreadfully hard to do. You know you take a longrope with a slipknot, and you throw it around your head so, and"--
"Hark!" said Marie, with a dramatic start, and her finger on her smallmouth, "he comes!"
There was the clear roll of wheels along the smooth, frozen carriagesweep towards the house, the sharp crisp click of hoofs on stone, theopening of heavy doors, the sudden sparkling invasion of frigid air, theuplifting of voices in greeting,--but all familiar! There were GabrielLane's cheery, hopeful tones, the soprano of Cousin Jane and CousinEmma, the baritone of Mr. Gunn, and the grave measured oratoricalutterance of Parson Dexter, who had joined the party at the station; butcertainly the accents of no STRANGER. Had he come? Yes, for his namewas just then called, and the quick ear of Marie had detected a light,lounging, alien footstep cross the cold strip of marble vestibule. Thetwo girls exchanged a rapid glance; each looked into the mirror, andthen interrogatively at the other, nodded their heads affirmatively, anddescended to the drawing-room. A group had already drawn round the fire,and a small central figure, who, with its back turned towards them,was still enwrapped in an enormous overcoat of rich fur, was engaged inpresenting an alternate small varnished leather boot to the warmth ofthe grate. As they entered the room the heavy fur was yielded up withapparent reluctance, and revealed to the astonished girls a man ofordinary stature with a slight and elegant figure set off by a travelingsuit of irreproachable cut. His light reddish-yellow hair, mustache,and sunburned cheek, which seemed all of one color and outline, made itimpossible to detect the gray of the one or the hollowness of the other,and gave no indication of his age. Yet there was clearly no mistake.Here was Gabriel Lane seizing their nervously cold fingers andpresenting them to their "Uncle Sylvester."
Far from attempting to kiss Kitty, the stranger for an instant seemedoblivious of the little hand she offered him in the half-preoccupiedbow he gave her. But Marie was not so easily passed over, and, with heraudacious face challenging his, he abstractedly imparted to the shake ofher hand something of the fervor that he should have shown his relative.And, then, still warming his feet on the fender, he seemed to haveforgotten them both.
"Accustomed as you have been, sir," said the Reverend Mr. Dexter,seizing upon an awkward silence, and accenting it laboriously, "perhapsI should say INURED as you have been to the exciting and stirringincidents of a lawless and adventurous community, you doubtless findin a pastoral, yet cultivated and refined, seclusion like Lakeville adegree of"--
"Oh, several degrees," said Uncle Sylvester, blandly flicking bitsof buffalo hair from his well-fitting trousers; "it's colder, youknow--much colder."
"I was referring to a less material contrast," continued Mr. Dexter,with a resigned smile; "yet, as to the mere question of cold, I amtold, sir, that in California there are certain severe regions ofaltitude--although the mean temperature"--
"I suppose out in California you fellows would say our temperature was adarned sight MEANER, eh?" broke in Amos Gunn, with a confidentialglance at the others, as if offering a humorous diversion suited tothe Californian taste. Uncle Sylvester did not, however, smile. Gazingcritically at Gunn, he said thoughtfully: "I think not; I've even knownmen killed for saying less than that," and turned to the clergyman. "Youare quite right; some of the higher passes are very cold. I was lost inone of them in '56 with a small party. We were seventy miles fromany settlement, we had had nothing to eat for thirty-six hours; ourcampfire, melting the snow, sank twelve feet below the surface." Thecircle closed eagerly around him, Marie, Kitty, and Cousin Jane pressingforward with excited faces; even the clergyman assumed an expression ofprofound interest. "A man by the name of Thompson, I think," continuedUncle Sylvester, thoughtfully gazing at the fire, "was frozen a fewyards away. Towards morning, having been fifty-eight hours withoutfood, our last drop of whiskey exhausted, and the fire extinguished, wefound"--
"Yes, yes!" said half a dozen voices.
"We found," continued Uncle Sylvester, rubbing his hands cheerfully, "wefound it--exceedingly cold. Yes--EXCEEDINGLY cold!"
There was a dead silence.
"But you escaped!" said Kitty breathlessly.
"I think so. I think we all escaped--that is, except Thompson, ifhis name WAS Thompson; it might have been Parker," continued UncleSylvester, gazing with a certain languid astonishment on the eager facesaround him.
"But HOW did you escape?"
"Oh, somehow! I don't remember exactly. I don't think," he went onreflectively, "that we had to eat Thompson--if it was HIM--at least notthen. No"--with a faint effort of recollection--"that would have beenanother affair. Yes," assuringly to the eager, frightened eyes of CousinJane, "you are quite right, that was something altogether different.Dear me; one quite mixes up these things. Eh?"
A servant had entered, and after a hurried colloquy with Gabriel, thelatter turned to Uncle Sylvester--
"Excuse me, but I think there must be some mistake! We brought up yourluggage with you--two trunks--in the station wagon. A man has justarrived with three more, which he says are yours."
"There should be five in all, I think," said Uncle Sylvesterthoughtfully.
"Maybe there are, sir, I didn't count exactly," said the servant.
"All right," said Uncle Sylvester cheerfully, turning to his brother."You can put them in my room or on the landing, except two marked 'L' ina triangle. They contain some things I picked up for you and the girls.We'll look them over in the morning. And, if you don't mind, I'll excusemyself now and go to bed."
"But it's only half past ten," said Gabriel remonstratingly. "You don't,surely, go to bed at half past ten?"
"I do when I travel. Travel is SO exhausting. Good-night! Don't letanybody disturb themselves to come with me."
He bowed languidly to the company, and disappeared with a yawngracefully disguised into a parting smile.
"Well!" said Cousin Jane, drawing a long breath.
"I don't believe it's your Uncle Sylvester at all!" said Marievivaciously. "It's some trick that Gabriel is playing upon us. And he'snot even a good actor--he forgets his part."
"And, then, five trunks for one single man! Heavens! what can he have inthem" said Cousin Emma.
"Perhaps his confederates,
to spring out upon us at night, aftereverybody's asleep."
"Are you sure you remembered him, papa?" said Kitty sotto voce.
"Certainly. And, my dear child, he knows all the family history as wellas you do; and"--continued her father with a slight laugh that did not,however, conceal a certain seriousness that was new to him--"I only wishI understood as much about the property as he does. By the way, Amos,"he broke off suddenly, turning to the young man, "he seemed to know