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When Wilderness Was King - A Tale of the Illinois Country by Randall Parrish
page 27 of 326 (08%)
Villiers de Croix. It may not seem much, yet I pledge you that kings
have valued it ere now."

It was a form of introduction most unfamiliar to me, and seemed
bristling with audacity and conceit; but I recognized the heartiness of
his purpose, and hastened to make fit response.

"I meet you with much pleasure," I answered, accepting the proffered
hand. "I am John Wayland."

The graceful recklessness of the fellow, so conspicuous in each word
and action, strongly attracted me. I confess I liked him from his
first utterance, although mentally, and perhaps morally as well, no two
men of our age could possibly be more unlike.

"Wayland?" he mused, with a shrug, as if the sound of the word was
unpleasant. "Wayland?--'t is a harsh name to my ears, yet I have heard
it mentioned before in England as that of a great family. You are
English, then?"

I shook my head emphatically; for the old wounds of controversy and
battle were then being opened afresh, and the feeling of antagonism ran
especially high along the border.

"I am of this country," I protested with earnestness, "and we call
ourselves Americans."

He laughed easily, evidently no little amused at my retort, twisting
his small mustache through his slender fingers as he eyed me.

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