Robert William Chambers

The Maid-At-Arms Robert William Chambers

We drew bridle at the cross-roads; he stretched his legs in his stirrups, raised his arms, yawned, and dropped his huge hands upon either thigh with a resounding slap."Well, good-bye," he said, gravely, but made no movement to leave me."Do we part here?" I asked, sorry to quit my chance acquaintance of the Johnstown highway. He nodded, yawned again, and removed his round cap of silver-fox fur to scratch his curly head."We certainly do part at these cross-roads, if you are bound for Varicks'," he said. I waited a moment, then thanked him for the pleasant entertainment his company had afforded me, and wished him a safe journey."A safe journey?" he repeated, carelessly. "Oh yes, of course; safe journeys are rare enough in these parts. I'm obliged to you for the thought. You are very civil, sir. Good-bye."Yet neither he nor I gathered bridle to wheel our horses, but sat there in mid-road, looking at each other."My name is Mount," he said at length; "let me guess yours. No, sir! don't tell me. Give me three sportsman's guesses; my hunting-knife against the wheat straw you are chewing!""With pleasure," I said, amused, "but you could scarcely guess it.""Your name is Varick?"