Altsheler Joseph Alexander - The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista стр 2.

"Something calls you," he said.

Phil was silent.

"No harm iss done where none iss meant,"the German. "You have told me who you are, Mr. PhilipBedford, and where you come from. It iss rightthat I tell you as much about myself. My name iss HansArenberg, and I am a Texan."

Phil looked at him, his eyes full of unbelief, and theGerman laughed a little.

"It iss so," he said. "You do not think I look likea Texan, but I am one by way of Germany. I-I liveat New Braunfels."

Arenberg's voice broke suddenly, and then Philremembered vaguely-New Braunfels, a settlement ofGerman immigrants in Texas, raided by Comanches, the men killed, and the women carried off! It was oneof those terrible incidents of the border, so numerousthat the new fast crowded the old out of place.

"You come from New Braunfels! You are one of thesurvivors of the massacre!" he exclaimed.

"It iss so," said the German, his eyes growingsober, "and I, too, wish to go far into the West. I, too, seek something, young Mr. Philip Bedford, and my roadwould lie much where yours leads."

The two looked at each other with inquiry thatshaded into understanding. Arenberg was the first tospeak.

"Yes, we could go together," he said. "I trust you, and you trust me. But two are not strong enough. Thechances are a thousand to one that neither of us wouldfind what he iss seeking. The Mexicans wish revenge onthe Texans, the Comanches raid to the outskirts of SanAntonio. Pouf! Our lives would not be worth that! Itmust be a strong party of many men!"

"I believe you are right," said Phil, "but I wish togo. I wish to go very much."

"So do I," said Arenberg. "It iss the same withboth of us, but suppose we wait. Where do you live?"

Phil no longer hesitated to confide in this chanceacquaintance, and he replied that he was staying in ahouse near the Convent of the Ursuline Nuns, where alittle room sheltered him and his few belongings.

"Suppose," said Arenberg, "that I join you there, and we save our expenses. In union there iss strength.If you do not like my suggestion say so. No harm issdone where none iss meant."

"On the contrary, I do like it," said Phil heartily."It seems to me that we can help each other."

"Then come," said Arenberg. "We will go first tomy place, where I will pay my own bill, take away whatI have, and then we will join forces at yours, iss itnot so?"

Arenberg was staying at one of the inns that aboundedin New Orleans, and it took him only a half hour to packand move, carrying his baggage in his hand. Phil'sroom was in a large, rambling old house, built of cypresswood, with verandas all about it. There an Americanwidow kept boarders, and she had plenty of them, asNew Orleans was overflowing with strangers. The roomwas small and bare, but it was large enough, as Phil'sbaggage, too, was limited. A cot was put in forArenberg, and the two were at home.

The day was now drawing to a close, and the two atesupper with a strange company in the large dining-roomof the boarding house. Phil, a close observer, noted thatsix languages were spoken around that more or lesshospitable board. He understood only his own, and a littleFrench and Spanish, but the difference in sound andintonation enabled him to note the others. One of themen who sat opposite him was a big fellow withglistening gold rings in his ears, evidently a West Indian ofsomewhat doubtful color, but he was quiet, and atedextrously and skillfully with his knife. A sallow youngMexican with curling black mustaches complainedincessantly about his food, and a thin New Englander spoke attimes of the great opportunities for capital in the Southwest.

Phil and Arenberg, who sat side by side, said little, but both watched all the other guests with interestedeyes. The one who held Phil's gaze the

we are still in the grasp of snowand ice."

Phil and Arenberg also sat down, as the way was nowopened for conversation.

"Then you are from the North, I suppose," said Phil.

"Yes," replied the stranger, "from the State of NewYork, but I am traveling now, as you see. My name isMiddleton, George Middleton."

He paused, meditatively blew a whiff of smoke fromthe little Spanish cigarrito, and added:

"I'm not for long in New Orleans. I'm thinking ofa journey in the West."

"Nobody goes there unless he has a very good reasonfor going. Iss it not so? No harm iss done where noneiss meant," said Arenberg, in a tone half of apology andhalf of inquiry.

Middleton laughed and took another puff at his cigarrito.

"Certainly no harm has been done," he replied."You are right, also, in saying that no one goes into theWest unless he has an excellent reason. I have such areason. I want to look for something there."

Phil and the German exchanged glances. They, too, wished to look for something there. So! Here was athird man seeking to embark upon the great journey.But it was no business of theirs what he sought, howevercurious they might feel about it. Phil took another lookat Middleton. Surely his was a good face, a face toinspire trust and courage.