THE DAY OF THE DOG
 
 X 
 
 SWALLOW 
 
 Frontispiece
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 P THE FLYERS 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 BY 
 GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 1916
 
 COPYRIGHT M04. By DODD. MEAD & COMPANY 
 COPYRIGHT 190*. BY ESS ESS PUBLISHING OO. 
 COPYRIGHT 1905, BY DODD. MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1907, BY DODD. MEAD & COMPANY 
 COPYRIGHT 1912, BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Day of the Dog ! 
 
 The Flyers . . ..... 61 
 
 The Purple Parasol 157 
 
 Her Weight in Gold 201 
 
 The Maid and the Blade ..... 243 
 
 2045658
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 SWALLOW Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 Helen , . . 158
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 PART I 
 
 " I'll catch the first train back this evening, Graves. 
 Wouldn't go down there if it were not absolutely 
 necessary; but I have just heard that Mrs. Delancy 
 is to leave for New York to-night, and if I don't see 
 her to-day there will be a pack of troublesome com- 
 plications. Tell Mrs. Graves she can count me in on 
 the box party to-night." 
 
 We'll need you, Crosby. Don't miss the train." 
 " I'll be at the station an hour before the train 
 leaves. Confound it, it's a mean trip down there 
 three hours through the rankest kind of scenery and 
 three hours back. She's visiting in the country, too, 
 but I can drive out and back in an hour." 
 " On your life, old man, don't fail me." 
 " Don't worry, Graves ; all Christendom couldn't 
 keep me in Dexter after four o'clock this afternoon. 
 Good-by." And Crosby climbed into the hansom and 
 was driven away at breakneck speed toward the 
 station. 
 
 Crosby was the junior member of the law firm of 
 Rolfe & Crosby, and his trip to the country was on 
 business connected with the settlement of a big estate. 
 1
 
 2 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 Mrs. Delancy, widow of a son of the decedent, was 
 one of the legatees, and she was visiting her sister- 
 in-law, Mrs. Robert Austin, in central Illinois. Mr. 
 Austin owned extensive farming interests near Dexter, 
 and his handsome home was less than two miles from 
 the heart of the town. Crosby anticipated no trouble 
 in driving to the house and back in time to catch the 
 afternoon train for Chicago. It was necessary for 
 Mrs. Delancy to sign certain papers, and he was 
 confident the transaction could not occupy more 
 than half an hour's time. 
 
 At 11:30 Crosby stepped from the coach to the 
 station platform in Dexter, looked inquiringly about, 
 and then asked a perspiring man with a star on his 
 suspender-strap where he could hire a horse and 
 buggy. The officer directed him to a " feed-yard and 
 stable," but observed that there was a " funeral in 
 town an' he'd be lucky if he got a rig, as all of Smith's 
 horses were out." Application at the stable brought 
 the first frown to Crosby's brow. He could not rent 
 a " rig " until after the funeral, and that would make 
 it too late for him to catch the four o'clock train for 
 Chicago. To make the story short, twelve o'clock 
 saw him trudging along the dusty road covering the 
 two miles between town and Austin's place, and he was 
 walking with the rapidity of one who has no love for 
 the beautiful. The early spring air was invigorating, 
 and it did not take Km long to reduce the distance. 
 Austin's house stood on a hill, far back from the high- 
 way, and overlooking the entire country-side. 
 
 The big red barn stood in from the road a hun-
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 3 
 
 dred yards or more, and he saw that the same drive- 
 way led to the house on the hill. There was no time 
 for speculation, so he hastily made his way up the 
 lane. Crosby had never seen his client, their business 
 having been conducted by mail or through Mr. Rolfe. 
 There was not a person in sight, and he slowed his 
 progress considerably as he drew nearer the big house. 
 At the barn-yard gate he came to a full stop and de- 
 bated within himself the wisdom of inquiring at the 
 stables for Mr. Austin. 
 
 He flung open the gate and strode quickly to the 
 door. This he opened boldly and stepped inside, find- 
 ing himself in a lofty carriage room. Several hand- 
 some vehicles stood at the far end, but the wide space 
 near the door was clear. The floor was as " clean as 
 a pin," except along the west side. No one was in 
 sight, and the only sound was that produced by the 
 horses as they munched their hay and stamped their 
 hoofs in impatient remonstrance with the flies. 
 
 " Where the deuce are the people? " he muttered 
 as he crossed to the mangers. " Devilish queer," 
 glancing about in considerable doubt. " The hands 
 must be at dinner or taking a nap." He passed by 
 a row of mangers and was calmly inspected by brown- 
 eyed horses. At the end of the long row of stalls he 
 found a little gate opening into another section of the 
 barn. He was on the point of opening this gate to 
 pass in among the horses when a low growl attracted 
 his attention. In some alarm he took a precautionary 
 look ahead. On the opposite side of the gate stood a 
 huge and vicious looking bulldog, unchained and wait-
 
 4 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 ing for him with an eager ferocity that could not be 
 mistaken. Mr. Crosby did not open the gate. In- 
 stead he inspected it to see that it was securely fas- 
 tened, and then drew his hand across his brow. 
 
 " What an escape ! " he gasped, after a long breath. 
 " Lucky for me you growled, old boy. My name is 
 Crosby, my dear sir, and I'm not here to steal any- 
 thing. I'm only a lawyer. Anybody else at home but 
 you? " 
 
 An ominous growl was the answer, and there was 
 lurid disappointment in the face of the squat figure 
 beyond the gate. 
 
 " Come, now, old chap, don't be nasty. I won't 
 hurt you. There was nothing farther from my mind 
 than a desire to disturb you. And say, please do 
 something besides growl. Bark, and oblige me. You 
 may attract the attention of some one." 
 
 By this time the ugly brute was trying to get at 
 the man, growling, and snarling savagely. Crosby 
 complacently looked on from his place of safety for 
 a moment, and was on the point of turning away when 
 his attention was caught by a new move on the part 
 of the dog. The animal ceased his violent efforts to 
 get through the gate, turned about deliberately, and 
 raced from view behind the horse stalls. Crosby 
 brought himself up with a jerk. 
 
 "Thunder," he ejaculated; "the brute knows a 
 way to get at me, and he won't be long about it, 
 either. What the dickens shall I by George, this 
 looks serious! He'll head me off at the door if I 
 try to get out and Ah, the fire-escape ! We'll fool
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 5 
 
 you, you brute! What a cursed idiot I was not to 
 go to the house instead of coming " He was shin- 
 ning up a ladder with little regard for grace as he 
 mumbled this self-condemnatory remark. There was 
 little dignity in his manner of flight, and there was 
 certainly no glory in the position in which he found 
 himself a moment later. But there was a vast amount 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 The ladder rested against a beam that crossed the 
 carriage shed near the middle. The beam was a large 
 one, hewn from a monster tree, and was free on all 
 sides. The ladder had evidently been left there by 
 men who had used it recently and had neglected to 
 return it to the hooks on which it properly hung. 
 
 When the dog rushed violently through the door 
 and into the carriage room, he found a vast and in- 
 explicable solitude. He was, to all appearances, 
 alone with the vehicles under which he was permitted 
 to trot when his master felt inclined to grant the 
 privilege. 
 
 Crosby, seated on the beam, fifteen feet above the 
 floor, grinned securely but somewhat dubiously as 
 he watched the mystified dog below. At last he 
 laughed aloud. He could not help it. The enemy 
 glanced upward and blinked his red eyes in surprise ; 
 then he stared in deep chagrin, then glared with rage. 
 For a few minutes Crosby watched his frantic efforts 
 to leap through fifteen feet of altitudinal space, con- 
 fidently hoping that some one would come to drive 
 the brute away and liberate him. Finally he began 
 to lose the good humor his strategy in fooling the
 
 6 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 dog had inspired, and a hurt, indignant stare was di- 
 rected toward the open door through which he had 
 entered. 
 
 " What's the matter with the idiots? " he growled 
 impatiently. " Are they going to let this poor dog 
 snarl his lungs out? He's a faithful chap, too, and 
 a willing worker. Gad, I never saw anything more 
 earnest than the way he tries to climb up that lad- 
 der." Adjusting himself in a comfortable position, 
 his elbows on his knees, his hands to his chin, he al- 
 lowed his feet to swing lazily, tantalizingly, below the 
 beam. " I'm putting a good deal of faith in this 
 beam," he went on resignedly. The timber was at 
 least fifteen inches square. 
 
 "Ah, by George! That was a bully jump the 
 best you've made. You didn't miss me more than ten 
 feet that time. I don't like to be disrespectful, you 
 know, but you are an exceedingly rough looking dog. 
 Don't get huffy about it, old fellow, but you have the 
 ugliest mouth I ever saw. Yes, you miserable cur, 
 politeness at last ceases to be a virtue with me. If 
 I had you up here I'd punch your face for you, too. 
 Why don't you come up, you coward? You're bow- 
 legged, too, and you haven't any more figure than a 
 crab. Anybody that would take an insult like that is 
 beneath me (thank heaven!) and would steal sheep. 
 Great Scott! Where are all these people? Shut up, 
 you brute, you ! I'm getting a headache. But it 
 doesn't do any good to reason with you, I can see that 
 plainly. The thing I ought to do is to go down there
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 7 
 
 and punish you severely. But I'll Hello ! Hey, 
 boy? Call off this confounded dog." 
 
 Two small Lord Fauntleroy boys were standing in 
 the door, gazing up at him with wide open mouths and 
 bulging eyes. 
 
 " Call him off, I say, or I'll come down there and 
 kick a hole clear through him." The boys stared 
 all the harder. " Is your name Austin? " he de- 
 manded, addressing neither in particular. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the larger boy, with an ef- 
 fort. 
 
 " Well, where's your father? Shut up, you brute ! 
 Can't you see I'm talking? Go tell your father I 
 want to see him, boy." 
 
 " Dad's up at the house." 
 
 " That sounds encouraging. Can't you call off 
 this dog? " 
 
 "I I guess I'd better not. That's what dad 
 keeps him for." 
 
 "Oh, he does, eh? And what is it that he keeps 
 him for?" 
 
 " To watch tramps." 
 
 " To watch to watch tramps? Say, boy, I'm a 
 lawyer and I'm here on business." He was black in 
 the face with indignation. 
 
 " You better come up to the house and see dad, 
 then. He don't live in the barn," said the boy keenly. 
 
 " I can't fly to the house, boy. Say, if you don't 
 call off this dog I'll put a bullet through him." 
 
 " You'd have to be a purty good shot, mister. 
 Nearly everybody in the county has tried to do it."
 
 8 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 Both boys were grinning diabolically and the dog 
 took on energy through inspiration. Crosby longed 
 for a stick of dynamite. 
 
 " I'll give you a dollar if you get him away from 
 here," 
 
 "Let's see your dollar." Crosby drew a silver 
 dollar from his trousers pocket, almost falling from 
 his perch in the effort. 
 
 " Here's the coin. Call him off," gasped the law- 
 yer. 
 
 " I'm afraid papa wouldn't like it," said the boy. 
 The smaller lad nudged his brother and urged him to 
 " take the money anyhow." 
 
 " I live in Chicago," Crosby began, hoping to im- 
 press the boys at least. 
 
 " So do we when we're at home," said the smaller 
 boy. " We live in Chicago in the winter time." 
 
 " Is Mrs. Delancy your aunt? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I'll give you this dollar if you'll tell your father 
 I'm here and want to see him at once." 
 
 " Throw down your dollar." The coin fell at their 
 feet but rolled deliberately through a crack in the 
 floor and was lost forever. Crosby muttered some- 
 thing unintelligible, but resignedly threw a second 
 coin after the first. 
 
 " He'll be out when he gets through dinner," said 
 the older boy, just before the fight. Two minutes 
 later he was streaking across the barn lot with the 
 coin in his pocket, the smaller boy wailing under the 
 woe of a bloody nose. For half an hour Crosby
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 9 
 
 heaped insult after insult upon the glowering dog 
 at the bottom of the ladder and was in the midst of 
 a rabid denunciation of Austin when the city-bred 
 farmer entered the barn. 
 
 " Am I addressing Mr. Robert Austin?" called 
 Crosby, suddenly amiable. The dog subsided and ran 
 to his master's side. Austin, a black-moustached, 
 sallow-faced man of forty, stopped near the door 
 and looked aloft, squinting. 
 
 " Where are you? " he asked somewhat sharply. 
 
 " I am very much up in the air," replied Crosby. 
 " Look a little sou' by sou'east. Ah, now you have 
 me. Can you manage the dog? If so, I'll come 
 down." 
 
 "One moment, please. Who are you?" 
 
 " My name is Crosby, of Rolfe & Crosby, Chicago. 
 I am here to see Mrs. Delancy, your sister-in-law, on 
 business before she leaves, for New York." 
 
 " What is your business with her, may I ask? " 
 
 " Private," said Crosby laconically. " Hold the 
 dog." 
 
 " I insist in knowing the nature of your business," 
 said Austin firmly. 
 
 " I'd rather come down there and talk, if you don't 
 mind." 
 
 " I don't but the dog may," said the other grimly. 
 
 " Well, this is a nice way to treat a gentleman," 
 cried Crosby wrathfully. 
 
 " A gentleman would scarcely have expected to 
 find a lady in the barn, much less on a cross-beam. 
 This is where my horses and dogs live."
 
 10 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 "Oh, that's all right now; this isn't a joke, you 
 know." 
 
 " I quite agree with you. What is your business 
 with Mrs. Delancy? " 
 
 " We represent her late husband's interests in 
 settling up the estate of his father. Your wife's in- 
 terests are being looked after by Morton & Rogers, 
 I believe. I am here to have Mrs. Delancy go through 
 the form of signing papers authorizing us to bring 
 suit against the estate in order to establish certain 
 rights of which you are fully aware. Your wife's 
 brother left his affairs slightly tangled, you re- 
 member." 
 
 " Well, I can save you a good deal of trouble. 
 Mrs. Delancy has decided to let the matter rest as it 
 is and to accept the compromise terms offered by the 
 other heirs. She will not care to see you, for she has 
 just written to your firm announcing her deci- 
 sion." 
 
 "You you don't mean it," exclaimed Crosby in 
 dismay. He saw a prodigious fee slipping through 
 his fingers. " Gad, I must see her about this," he 
 went on, starting down the ladder, only to go back 
 again hastily. The growling dog leaped forward and 
 stood ready to receive him. Austin chuckled audibly. 
 
 " She really can't see you, Mr. Crosby. Mrs. De- 
 lancy leaves at four o'clock for Chicago, where she 
 takes the Michigan Central for New York to-night. 
 You can gain nothing by seeing her." 
 
 " But I insist, sir," exploded Crosby. 
 
 " You may come down when you like," said Aus-
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 11 
 
 tin. " The dog will be here until I return from the 
 depot after driving her over. Come down when you 
 like." 
 
 Crosby did not utter the threat that surged to 
 his lips. With the wisdom born of self-preservation, 
 he temporized, reserving deep down in the surging 
 young breast a promise to amply recompense his 
 pride for the blows it was receiving at the hands of the 
 detestable Mr. Austin. 
 
 " You'll admit that I'm in a devil of a pickle, Mr. 
 Austin," he said jovially. " The dog is not at all 
 friendly." 
 
 " He is at least diverting. You won't be lonesome 
 while I'm away. I'll tell Mrs. Delancy that you 
 called," said Austin ironically. 
 
 He turned to leave the barn, and the sinister sneer 
 on his face gave Crosby a new and amazing inspi- 
 ration. Like a flash there rushed into his mind the 
 belief that Austin had a deep laid design in not per- 
 mitting him to see the lady. With this belief also 
 came the conviction that he was hurrying her off to 
 New York on some pretext simply to forestall any 
 action that might induce her to continue the contem- 
 plated suit against the estate. Mrs. Delancy had un- 
 doubtedly been urged to drop the matter under pres- 
 sure of promises, and the Austins were getting her 
 away from the scene of action before she could re- 
 consider or before her solicitors could convince her 
 of the mistake she was making. The thought of this 
 sent the fire of resentment racing through Crosby's 
 brain, and he fairly gasped with the longing to get at
 
 12 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 the bottom of the case. His only hope now lay in 
 sending a telegram to Mr. Rolfe, commanding him to 
 meet Mrs. Delancy when her train reached Chicago, 
 and to lay the whole matter before her. 
 
 Before Austin could make his exit the voices of 
 women were heard outside the door and an instant 
 later two ladies entered. The farmer attempted to 
 turn them back, but the younger, taller, and slighter 
 of the newcomers cried: 
 
 " I just couldn't go without another look at the 
 horses, Bob." 
 
 Crosby, on the beam, did not fail to observe the 
 rich, tender tone of the voice, and it would have re- 
 quired almost total darkness to obscure the beauty 
 of her face. Her companion was older and coarser, 
 and he found delight in the belief that she was the 
 better half of the disagreeable Mr. Austin. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Mrs. Delancy ! " came a fine 
 masculine voice from nowhere. The ladies started in 
 amazement, Mr. Austin ground his teeth, the dog 
 took another tired leap upward ; Mr. Crosby took off 
 his hat gallantly, and waited patiently for the lady 
 to discover his whereabouts. 
 
 " Who is it, Bob? " cried the tall one, and Crosby 
 patted his bump of shrewdness happily. " Who have 
 you in hiding here? " 
 
 " I'm not in hiding, Mrs. Delancy. I'm a prisoner, 
 that's all. I'm right near the top of the ladder di- 
 rectly in front of you. You know me only through 
 the mails, but my partner, Mr. Rolfe, is known to 
 you personally. My name is Crosby."
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 13 
 
 " How very strange," she cried in wonder. " Why 
 don't you come down, Mr Crosby? " 
 
 " I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid. There's the 
 dog, you know. Have you any influence over 
 him?" 
 
 " None whatever. He hates me. Perhaps Mr. 
 Austin can manage him. Oh, isn't it ludicrous? " and 
 she burst into hearty laughter. It was a very musical 
 laugh, but Crosby considered it a disagreeable croak. 
 
 " But Mr. Austin declines to interfere. I came to 
 see you on private business and am not permitted to 
 do so." 
 
 " We don't know this fellow, Louise, and I can't 
 allow you to talk to him," said Austin brusquely. " I 
 found him where he is and there he stays until the 
 marshal comes out from town. His actions have been 
 very suspicious and must be investigated. I can't 
 take chances on letting a horse thief escape. Swallow 
 will watch him until I can secure assistance." 
 
 " I implore you, Mrs. Delancy, to give me a mo- 
 ment or two in which to explain," cried Crosby. " He 
 knows I'm not here to steal his horses, and he knows I 
 intend to punch his head the minute I get the chance." 
 Mrs. Austin's little shriek of dismay and her hus- 
 band's fierce glare did not check the flow of language 
 from the beam. " I am Crosby of Rolfe & Crosby, 
 your counsel. I have the papers here for you to sign 
 and " 
 
 " Louise, I insist that you come away from here. 
 This fellow is a fraud " 
 
 " He's refreshing, at any rate," said Mrs. Delancy
 
 14 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 gaily. " There can be no harm in hearing what he 
 has to say, Bob." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I won't detain you long." 
 
 " I've a mind to kick you out of this barn," cried 
 Austin angrily. 
 
 " I don't believe you're tall enough, my good fel- 
 low." Mr. Crosby was more than amiable. He was 
 positively genial. Mrs. Delancy's pretty face was 
 the picture of eager, excited mirth, and he saw that 
 she was determined to see the comedy to the end. 
 
 " Louise ! " exclaimed Mrs. Austin, speaking for 
 the first time. " You are not fool enough to credit 
 this fellow's story, I'm sure. Come to the house at 
 once. I will not stay here." Mrs. Austin's voice was 
 hard and biting, and Crosby also caught the quick 
 glance that passed between husband and wife. 
 
 " I am sure Mrs. Delancy will not be so unkind as 
 to leave me after I've had so much trouble in getting 
 an audience. Here is my card, Mrs. Delancy." 
 Crosby tossed a card from his perch, but Swallow 
 gobbled it up instantly. Mrs. Delancy gave a little 
 cry of disappointment, and Crosby promptly apolo- 
 gized for the dog's greediness. " Mr. Austin knows 
 I'm Crosby," he concluded. 
 
 " I know nothing of the sort, sir, and I forbid Mrs. 
 Delancy holding further conversation with you. 
 This is an outrageous imposition, Louise. You must 
 hurry, by the way, or we'll miss the train," said Aus- 
 tin, biting his lip impatiently. 
 
 " That reminds me, I also take the four o'clock 
 train for Chicago, Mrs. Delancy. If you prefer, we
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 15 
 
 can talk over our affairs on the train instead of here. 
 I'll confess this isn't a very dignified manner in which 
 to hold a consultation," said Crosby apologetically. 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to state the nature of 
 your business, Mr. Crosby? " said the young woman, 
 ignoring Mr. Austin. 
 
 "Then you believe I'm Crosby?" cried that gen- 
 tleman triumphantly. 
 
 " Louise ! " cried Mrs. Austin in despair. 
 
 " In spite of your present occupation, I believe 
 you are Crosby," said Mrs. Delancy merrily. 
 
 " But, good gracious, I can't talk business with 
 you from this confounded beam," he cried lugubri- 
 ously. 
 
 " Mr. Austin will call the dog away," she said con- 
 fidently, turning to the man in the door. Austin's 
 sallow face lighted with a sudden malicious grin, and 
 there was positive joy in his voice. 
 
 " You may be satisfied, but I am not. If you 
 desire to transact business with this impertinent 
 stranger, Mrs. Delancy, you'll have to do so under 
 existing conditions. I do not approve of him or his 
 methods, and my dog doesn't either. You can trust a 
 dog for knowing a man for what he is. Mrs. Austin 
 and I are going to the house. You may remain, of 
 course; I have no right to command you to follow. 
 When you are ready to drive to the station, please 
 come to the house. I'll be ready. Your Mr. Crosby 
 may leave when he likes if he can. Come, Eliza- 
 beth." With this defiant thrust, Mr. Austin stalked 
 from the barn, followed by his wife. Mrs. Delancy
 
 16 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 started to follow but checked herself immediately, a 
 flush of anger mounting to her brow. After a long 
 pause she spoke. 
 
 " I don't understand how you came to be where you 
 are, Mr. Crosby," she said slowly. He related his 
 experiences rapidly and laughed with her simply be- 
 cause she had a way with her. 
 
 " You'll pardon me for laughing," she giggled. 
 
 " With all my heart," he replied gallantly. " It 
 must be very funny. However, this is not business. 
 You are in a hurry to get away from here and I'm 
 not, it seems. Briefly, Mrs. Delancy, I have the pa- 
 pers you are to sign before we begin your action 
 against the Fairwater estate. You know what they 
 are through Mr. Rolfe." 
 
 " Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Crosby, to say to you that 
 I have decided to abandon the matter. A satisfac- 
 tory compromise is under way." 
 
 " So I've been told. But are you sure you under- 
 stand yourself? " 
 
 " Perfectly, thank you." 
 
 " This is a very unsatisfactory place from which 
 to argue my case, Mrs. Delancy. Can't you dispose 
 of the dog?" 
 
 " Only God disposes." 
 
 " Well, do you mind telling me what the compro- 
 mise provides?" She stared at him for a moment 
 haughtily, but his smile won the point for him. She 
 told him everything and then looked very much dis- 
 pleased when he swore distinctly. 
 
 " Pardon me, but you are getting very much the
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 17 
 
 worst of it in this deal. It is the most contemptible 
 scheme to rob that I ever heard of. By this arrange- 
 ment you are to get farming lands and building lots 
 in rural towns worth in all about $100,000, I'd say. 
 Don't you know that you are entitled to nearly half 
 a million? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no. By right, my share is less than 
 $75,000," she cried triumphantly. 
 
 " Who told you so ? " he demanded, and she saw 
 a very heavy frown on his erstwhile merry face. 
 
 " Why why, Mr. Austin and another brother-in- 
 law, Mr. Gray, both of whom are very kind to me in 
 the matter, I'm sure." 
 
 " Mrs. Delancy, you are being robbed by these fel- 
 lows. Can't you see that these brothers-in-law and 
 their wives will profit immensely if they succeed in 
 keeping the wool over your eyes long enough ? Let me 
 show you some figures." He excitedly drew a packet 
 of papers from his pocket and in five minutes' time 
 had her gasping with the knowledge that she was le- 
 gally entitled to more than half a million of dollars. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " she cried, unable to believe her 
 ears. 
 
 " Absolutely. Here is the inventory and here are 
 the figures to corroborate everything I say." 
 
 " But they had figures, too," she cried in perplex- 
 ity. 
 
 " Certainly. Figures are wonderful things. I 
 only ask you to defer this plan to compromise until 
 we are able to thoroughly convince you that I am not 
 misrepresenting the facts to you."
 
 18^ THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " Oh, if I could only believe you ! " 
 
 " I'd toss the documents down to you if I were 
 not afraid they'd join my card. That is a terribly 
 ravenous beast. Surely you can coax him out of the 
 barn," he added eagerly. 
 
 " I can try, but persuasion is difficult with a bull- 
 dog, you know," she said doubtfully. " It is much 
 easier to persuade a man," she smiled. 
 
 " I trust you won't try to persuade me to come 
 down," he said in alarm. 
 
 " Mr. Austin is a brute to treat you in this man- 
 ner," she cried indignantly. 
 
 " I wouldn't treat a dog as he is treating me." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure you couldn't," she cried in perfect 
 sincerity. " Swallow doesn't like me, but I'll try to 
 get him away. You can't stay up there all night." 
 
 " By Jove ! " he exclaimed sharply. 
 
 " What is it? " she asked quickly. 
 
 " I had forgotten an engagement in Chicago for to- 
 night. Box party at the comic opera," he said, look- 
 ing nervously at his watch. 
 
 " It would be too bad if you missed it," she said 
 sweetly. "You'd be much more comfortable in a 
 box." 
 
 " You are consoling at least. Are you going to 
 coax him off? " 
 
 " In behalf of the box party, I'll try. Come, Swal- 
 low. There's a nice doggie ! " 
 
 Crosby watched the proceedings with deepest in- 
 terest and concern and not a little admiration. But 
 not only did Swallow refuse to abdicate but he seemed
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 19 
 
 to take decided exceptions to the feminine method of 
 appeal. He evidently did not like to be called 
 " doggie," " pet," " dearie," and all such. 
 
 " He won't come," she cried plaintively. 
 
 " I have it ! " he exclaimed, his face brightening. 
 " Will you hand me that three-tined pitchfork over 
 there? With that in my hands I'll make Swallow 
 see Look out ! For heaven's sake, don't go near 
 him! He'll kill you." She had taken two or three 
 steps toward the dog, her hand extended pleadingly, 
 only to be met by an ominous growl, a fine display of 
 teeth, and a bristling back. As if paralyzed, she 
 halted at the foot of the ladder, terror suddenly tak- 
 ing possession of her. 
 
 " Can you get the pitchfork? " 
 
 " I am afraid to move," she moaned. " He is horri- 
 blehorrible !" 
 
 " I'll come down, Mrs. Delancy, and hang the con- 
 sequences," Crosby cried, and was suiting the action 
 to the word when she cried out in remonstrance. 
 
 " Don't come down don't ! He'll kill you. I 
 forbid you to come down, Mr. Crosby. Look at him ! 
 Oh, he's coming toward me ! Don't come down ! " she 
 shrieked. " I'll come up ! " 
 
 Grasping her skirts with one hand she started 
 frantically up the ladder, her terrified eyes looking 
 into the face of the man above. There was a vicious 
 snarl from the dog, a savage lunge, and then some- 
 thing closed over her arm like a vice. She felt herself 
 being jerked upward and a second later she was on the 
 beam beside the flushed young man whose strong
 
 20 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 hand and not the dog's jaws had reached her first. 
 He was obliged to support her for a few minutes with 
 one of his emphatic arms, so near was she to fainting. 
 
 " Oh," she gasped at last, looking into his eyes 
 questioningly. " Did he bite me? I was not sure, you 
 know. He gave such an awful leap for me. How did 
 you do it? " 
 
 " A simple twist of the wrist, as the prestidigi- 
 tators say. You had a close call, my dear Mrs. De- 
 lancy." He was a-quivcr with new sensations that 
 were sending his spirits sky high. After all it was not 
 turning out so badly. 
 
 " He would have dragged me down had it not been 
 for you. And I might have been torn to pieces," she 
 shuddered, glancing down at the now infuriated dog. 
 
 "It would have been appalling," he agreed, dis- 
 creetly allowing her to imagine the worst. 
 
 " How can I ever thank you ? " cried she im- 
 pulsively. He made a very creditable show of 
 embarrassment in the effort to convince her that he 
 had accomplished only what any man would have 
 attempted under similar circumstances. She was 
 thoroughly convinced that no other man could have 
 succeeded. 
 
 "Well, we're in a pretty position, are we not? " 
 he asked in the end. 
 
 " I think I can stick on without being held, Mr. 
 Crosby," she said, and his arm slowly and regretfully 
 came to parade rest. 
 
 " Are you sure you won't get dizzy ? " he demanded 
 in deep solicitude.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 21 
 
 "I'll not look down," she said, smiling into his 
 eyes. He lost the power of speech for a moment. 
 " May I look at those figures now? " 
 
 For the next ten minutes she studiously followed 
 him as he explained the contents of the various 
 papers. She held the sheets and they sat very close to 
 each other on the big beam. The dog looked on in 
 sour disgust. 
 
 " They cannot be wrong," she cried at last. Her 
 eyes were sparkling. " You are as good as an angel." 
 
 " I only regret that I can't complete the illusion 
 by unfolding a strong and convenient pair of wings," 
 he said dolorously. " How are we to catch that train 
 for Chicago? " 
 
 " I'm afraid we can't," she said demurely. " You'll 
 miss the box party." 
 
 " That's a pleasure easily sacrificed." 
 
 " Besides, you are seeing me on business. Pleasure 
 should never interfere with business, you know." 
 
 " It doesn't seem to," he said, and the dog saw them 
 smile tranquilly into each other's eyes. 
 
 " Oh, isn't this too funny for words? " He looked 
 very grateful. 
 
 " I wonder when Austin will condescend to release 
 us." 
 
 " I have come to a decision, Mr. Crosby," she said 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 " Indeed'? " 
 
 " I shall never speak to Robert Austin again, and 
 I'll never enter his house as long as I live," she an- 
 nounced determinedly.
 
 22 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " Good ! But you forget your personal effects. 
 They are in his house." He was overflowing with hap- 
 piness. 
 
 " They have all gone to the depot and I have the 
 baggage checks. My ticket and my money are in this 
 purse. You see, we are quite on the same footing." 
 
 " I don't feel sure of my footing," he commented 
 ruefully. " By the way, I have a fountain pen. 
 Would you mind signing these papers? We'll be 
 quite sure of our standing at least." 
 
 She deliberately spread out the papers on the 
 beam, and, while he obligingly kept her from falling, 
 signed seven documents in a full, decisive hand: 
 "Louise Hampton Delancy." 
 
 " There ! That means that you are to begin suit, 
 she said finally, handing the pen to him. 
 
 "I'll not waste an instant," he said meaningly. 
 " In fact, the suit is already under way." 
 
 " I don't understand you," she said, but she 
 flushed. 
 
 " That's what a lawyer says when he goes to court," 
 he explained. 
 
 " Oh," she said, thoroughly convinced. 
 
 At the end of another hour the two on the beam 
 were looking at each other with troubled eyes. When 
 he glanced at his watch at six o'clock, his face was 
 extremely sober. There was a tired, wistful expres- 
 sion in her eyes. 
 
 " Do you think they'll keep us here all night? " she 
 asked plaintively. 
 
 " Heaven knows what that scoundrel will do."
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 23 
 
 " We have the papers signed, at any rate." She 
 sighed, trying to revive the dying spark of humor. 
 
 " And we won't be lonesome," he added, glaring at 
 the dog. 
 
 " Did you ever dream that a man could be so 
 despicable? " 
 
 " Ah, here comes some one at last," he cried, 
 brightening up. 
 
 The figure of Robert Austin appeared in the door- 
 way. 
 
 " Oho, you're both up there now, are you ? " he 
 snapped. " That's why you didn't go to the depot, 
 is it? Well, how has the business progressed? " 
 
 " She has signed all the papers, if that's what you 
 want to know," said Crosby tantalizingly. 
 
 " That's all the good it "will do her. We'll beat 
 you in court, Mr. Crosby, and we won't leave a dol- 
 lar for you, my dear sister-in-law," snarled Austin, 
 his face white with rage. 
 
 "And now that we've settled our business, and 
 missed our train, perhaps you'll call off your con- 
 founded dog," said Crosby. Austin's face broke into 
 a wide grin, and he chuckled aloud. Then he leaned 
 against the door-post and held his sides. 
 
 " What's the joke?" demanded the irate Crosby. 
 Mrs. Delancy clasped his arm and looked down upon 
 Austin as if he had suddenly gone mad. 
 
 "You want to come down, eh?" cackled Austin. 
 " Why don't you come down? I know you'll pardon 
 my laughter, but I have just remembered that you 
 may be a horse thief and that I was not going to let
 
 24 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 you escape. Mrs. Delancy refuses to speak to me. 
 so I decline to ask her to come down." 
 
 " Do you mean to say you'll keep this lady up 
 here for " began Crosby fiercely. Her hand on his 
 arm prevented him from leaping to the floor. 
 
 " She may come down when she desires, and so may 
 you, sir, roared Austin stormily. 
 
 " But some one will release us, curse you, and then 
 I'll make you sorry you ever lived," hissed Crosby. 
 " You are a black-hearted cur, a cowardly dog " 
 
 " Don't don't ! " whispered the timid woman be- 
 side him. 
 
 " You are helping your cause beautifully," sneered 
 Austin. " My men have instructions to stay away 
 from the barn until the marshal comes. I, myself, 
 expect to feed and bed the horses." 
 
 Deliberately he went about the task of feeding 
 the horses. The two on the beam looked on in help- 
 less silence. Crosby had murder in his heart. At 
 last the master of the situation started for the door. 
 
 "Good-night," he said sarcastically. "Pleasant 
 dreams." 
 
 " You brute," cried Crosby, hoarse with anger. A 
 sob came from his tired companion and Crosby 
 turned to her, his heart full of tenderness and 
 shame, perhaps. Tears were streaming down her 
 cheeks and her shoulders drooped dejectedly. 
 
 " What shall we do? " she moaned. Crosby could 
 frame no answer. He gently took her hand in his 
 and held it tightly. She made no effort to withdraw 
 it.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 25 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry," he said softly. "Don't 
 cry, little woman. It will all end right, I know." 
 
 Just then Austin reentered the barn. Without 
 a word he strode over and emptied a pan of raw meat 
 on the floor in front of the dog. Then he calmly de- 
 parted, but Crosby could have sworn he heard him 
 chuckle. The captives looked at each other dumbly 
 for a full minute, one with wet, wide-open, hurt eyes, 
 the other with consternation. Gradually the sober 
 light in their eyes faded away and feeble smiles de- 
 veloped into peals of laughter. The irony of the 
 situation bore down upon them irresistibly and their 
 genuine, healthy young minds saw the picture in all 
 of its ludicrous colorings. Not even the prospect of a 
 night in mid-air could conquer the wild desire to 
 laugh. 
 
 " Isn't it too funny for words ? " she laughed 
 bravely through her tears. 
 
 Then, for some reason, both relapsed into dark, 
 silent contemplation of the dog who was so calmly en- 
 joying his evening repast. 
 
 " I am sorry to admit it, Mr. Crosby, but I am 
 growing frightfully hungry," she said wistfully. 
 
 "It has just occurred to me that I haven't 
 eaten a bite since seven o'clock this morning," he 
 said. 
 
 " You poor man ! I wish I could cook something 
 for you." 
 
 " You might learn." 
 
 " You know what I mean," she explained redden- 
 ing a bit. " You must be nearly famished."
 
 26 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " I prefer to think of something more interesting," 
 he said coolly. 
 
 " It is horrid ! " she sobbed. " See, it is getting 
 dark. Night is coming. Mr. Crosby, what is to be- 
 come of us? " He was very much distressed by her 
 tears and a desperate resolve took root in his breast. 
 She was so tired and dispirited that she seemed glad 
 when he drew her close to him and pressed her head 
 upon his shoulder. He heard the long sigh of relief 
 and relaxation and she peered curiously over her wet 
 lace handkerchief when he muttered tenderly: 
 
 "Poor little chap!" 
 
 Then she sighed again quite securely, and there 
 was a long silence, broken regularly and rhythmically 
 by the faint little catches that once were tearful 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! It is quite dark," she cried sud- 
 denly, and he felt a shudder run through her 
 body. 
 
 " Where could you go to-night, Mrs. Delancy, if 
 we were to succeed in getting away from here? " 
 he asked abruptly. She felt his figure straighten and 
 his arm grow tense as if a sudden determination had 
 charged through it. 
 
 "Why why, I hadn't thought about that," she 
 confessed, confronted by a new proposition. 
 
 " There's a late night train for Chicago," he vol- 
 unteered. 
 
 " But how are we to catch it? " 
 
 " If you are willing to walk to town I think you can 
 catch it," he said, a strange ring in his voice.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 27 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she demanded, looking up 
 at his face quickly. 
 
 "Can you walk the two miles?" he persisted. 
 " The train leaves Dexter at eleven o'clock and it is 
 now nearly eight." 
 
 " Of course I can walk it," she said eagerly. " I 
 could walk a hundred miles to get away from this 
 place." 
 
 " You'll miss the New York train, of course." 
 
 " I've changed my mind, Mr. Crosby. I shall 
 remain in Chicago until we have had our revenge on 
 Austin and the others." 
 
 " That's very good of you. May I ask where you 
 stop in Chicago? " 
 
 " My apartments are in the C Building. My 
 
 mother lives with me." 
 
 " Will you come to see me some time? " he asked, 
 an odd smile on his lips. 
 
 " Come to see you ? " she cried in surprise. " The 
 idea! What do you mean?" 
 
 " I may not be able to call on you for some time, 
 but you can be very good to me by coming to see me. 
 I'll be stopping at St. Luke's Hospital for quite a 
 while." 
 
 "At St. Luke's Hospital? I don't understand," 
 she cried perplexed. 
 
 " You see, my dear Mrs. Delancy, I have come to a 
 definite conclusion in regard to our present position. 
 You must not stay here all night. I'd be a coward 
 and a cur to subject you to such a thing. Well, I'm 
 going down to tackle that dog."
 
 28 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " To tackle the dog," she gasped. 
 " And while I'm keeping him busy you are to cut 
 and run for the road down there. Then you'll have 
 easy sailing for town." 
 
 " Mr. Crosby," she said firmly, clasping his arm ; 
 "you are not to leave this beam. Do you think 
 I'll permit you to go down there and be torn to pieces 
 by that beast, just for the sake of letting me cut and 
 run, as you call it? I'd be a bigger brute than the 
 
 dog and and " 
 
 " Mrs. Delancy, my mind is made up. I'm going 
 down!" 
 
 " That settles it ! I'm coming too," she proclaimed 
 emphatically. 
 
 "To be sure. That's the plan. You'll escape 
 while I hold Swallow." 
 
 " I'll do nothing of the sort. You shall not sacri- 
 fice yourself for my sake. I'd stay up here with you 
 all the rest of my life before I'd permit you to do 
 that." 
 
 " I'll remind you of that offer later on, my dear 
 Mrs. Delancy, when we are not so pressed for time. 
 Just now you must be practical, however. We can't 
 stay up here all night." 
 
 " Please, Mr. Crosby, for my sake, don't go down 
 there. To please me, don't be disfigured. I know 
 you are awfully brave and strong, but he is such a 
 huge, vicious dog. Won't you please stay here? " 
 
 " Ten minutes from now it will be too dark to see 
 the dog and he'll have an advantage over me. Listen : 
 I'll meet you at the depot in an hour and a half.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 29 
 
 This is final, Mrs. Delancy. Will you do as I tell 
 you? Run for the road and then to town. I'll 
 promise to join you there." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! " she moaned, as he drew 
 away from her and swung one foot to the ladder. 
 " I shall die if you go down there." 
 
 " I am going just the same. Don't be afraid, little 
 woman. My pocket knife is open and it is a trusty 
 blade. Now, be brave and be quick. Follow me down 
 the ladder and cut for it." 
 
 " Please, please, please ! " she implored, wringing 
 her hands. 
 
 But he was already half-way down the ladder and 
 refused to stop. 
 
 Suddenly Crosby paused as if checked in his prog- 
 ress by some insurmountable obstacle. The dog 
 was at the foot of the ladder, snarling with joy over 
 the prospective end of his long vigil. Above, Mrs. 
 Delancy was moaning and imploring him to come 
 back to her side, even threatening to spring from the 
 beam to the floor before he could reach the bot- 
 tom. 
 
 " By George ! " he exclaimed, and then climbed up 
 three or four rounds of the ladder, greatly to the 
 annoyance of the dog. 
 
 " What is it? " cried Mrs. Delancy, recovering her 
 balance on the beam. 
 
 " Let me think for a minute," he answered, delib- 
 erately resting his elbow on an upper round. 
 
 " It is about time you were doing a little thinking," 
 she said, relief and asperity in her voice. " In an-
 
 30 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 other second I should have jumped into that dog's 
 jaws." 
 
 " I believe it can be done," he went on, excited en- 
 thusiasm growing in his voice. " That's what bull- 
 dogs are famous for, isn't it? " 
 
 "I don't know what you are talking about, but 
 I do know that whenever they take hold of anything 
 they have to be treated for lockjaw before they will 
 let go. If you don't come up here beside me I'll have 
 a fit, Mr. Crosby." 
 
 " That's it that's what I mean," he cried eagerly. 
 "If they close those jaws upon anything they won't 
 let go until death them doth part. Gad, I believe 
 I see a way out of this pickle." 
 
 " I don't see how that can help us. The dog's jaws 
 are the one and only obstacle, and it is usually the 
 other fellow's death that parts them. Oh," she went 
 on, plaintively, " if we could only pull his teeth. 
 Good heaven, Mr. Crosby," sitting up very abruptly, 
 " you are not thinking of undertaking it, are you? " 
 
 " No, but I've got a scheme that will make Swallow 
 ashamed of himself to the end of his days. I can't 
 help laughing over it." He leaned back and laughed 
 heartily. " Hold my coat, please." He removed his 
 coat quickly and passed it up to her. 
 
 " I insist on knowing what you intend doing," she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Just wait and see me show Mr. Swallow a new 
 trick or two." He had already taken his watch and 
 chain, his fountain pen, and other effects from his 
 vest, jamming them into his trousers pockets. Mrs.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 31 
 
 Delancy, in the growing darkness, looked on, puzzled 
 and anxious. 
 
 "You might tell me," she argued resentfully. 
 "Are you going to try to swim out? " 
 
 Folding the vest lengthwise, he took a firm grip 
 on the collar, and cautiously descended the ladder. 
 
 " I'll not come to the hospital," she cried warn- 
 ingly. " Don't ! he'll bite your leg off ! " 
 
 " I'm merely teasing him, Mrs Delancy. He sha'n't 
 harm my legs, don't fear. Now watch for develop- 
 ments." Pausing just beyond reach of the dog's 
 mightiest leaps, he took a firm hold on the ladder and 
 swung down with the vest until it almost slapped 
 the head of the angry animal. It was like casting 
 a fly directly at the head of a hungry pickerel. 
 Swallow's eager jaws closed down upon the cloth and 
 the teeth met like a vice. The heavy body of the 
 brute almost jerked Crosby's arm from the socket, 
 but he braced himself, recovered his poise, and clung 
 gaily to the ladder, with the growling, squirming dog 
 dangling free of the floor. Mrs. Delancy gave a little 
 shriek of terror. 
 
 " Are you going to bring him up here ? " she 
 
 " Heaven knows where he'll end." 
 
 " But he will ruin your vest." 
 
 " I'll charge it up to your account. Item : one 
 vest, fifteen dollars." 
 
 By this time he was swinging Swallow slowly back 
 and forth, and he afterwards said that it required no 
 little straining of his muscles.
 
 32 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " You extravagant thing ! " she cried, but did not 
 tell whether she meant his profligacy in purchasing 
 or his wantonness in destroying. " And now, pray 
 enlighten me. Are you swinging him just for fun or 
 are you crazy? " 
 
 " Everything depends on his jaws and my strong 
 right arm," he said, and he was beginning to pant 
 from the exertion. Swallow was swinging higher and 
 higher. 
 
 "Well, it is the most aimless proceeding I ever 
 saw." 
 
 " I hope not. On second thought, everything 
 depends on my aim." 
 
 " And what is your aim, Mr. Hercules ? " 
 
 " See that opening above the box-stall over there ? " 
 
 " Dimly." 
 
 " That's my aim. Heavens, he's a heavy brute." 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " she cried ecstatically, clapping her 
 hands. " Delicious ! Lovely ! Oh, Mr. Crosby, you 
 are so clever." 
 
 " Don't fall off that beam, please," he panted. 
 " It might rattle me." 
 
 "I can't help being excited. It is the grandest 
 thing I ever heard of. He can't get out of there, 
 can he? Dear me, the sides of that stall are more 
 than eight feet high." 
 
 " He can't get out of it if I get him in," 
 gasped Crosby. 
 
 Not ten feet away to the left and some four feet 
 above the floor level there was a wide opening into a 
 box-stall, the home of Mr. Austin's prize stallion.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 33 
 
 As the big horse was inside munching his hay, Crosby 
 was reasonably sure that the stall with its tall sides 
 was securely closed and bolted. 
 
 Suddenly there was a mighty creak of the ladder, 
 the swish of a heavy body through the air, an inter- 
 rupted growl, and then a ripping thud. Swallow's 
 stubby body shot squarely through the opening, 
 accompanied by a trusty though somewhat sadly 
 stretched vest, and the deed was done. A cry of 
 delight came from the beam, a shout of pride and re- 
 lief from the ladder, and sounds of a terrific scramble 
 from the stall. First there was a sickening grunt, 
 then a surprised howl, then the banging of horse- 
 hoofs, and at last a combination of growls and howls 
 that proved Swallow's invasion of a hornet's nest. 
 
 " Thunderation ! " came in sharp, agonized tones 
 from the ladder. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she cried, detecting dis- 
 aster in the exclamation. 
 
 " I am a a blooming idiot," he groaned. " I 
 forgot to remove a roll of bills from an upper pocket 
 in that vest ! " 
 
 " Oh, is that all? " she cried, in great relief, start- 
 ing down the ladder. 
 
 "All? There was at least fifty dollars in that 
 roll," he said, from the floor, not forgetting to assist 
 her gallantly to the bottom. 
 
 " You can add it to my bill, you know," she said 
 sweetly. 
 
 " But it leaves me dead broke." 
 
 " You forget that I have money, Mr. Crosby.
 
 34 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 What is mine to-night is also yours. I think we 
 should shake hands and congratulate one another." 
 Crosby's sunny nature lost its cloud in an instant, and 
 the two clasped hands at the bottom of the ladder. 
 
 " I think it is time to cut and run," he said. " It's 
 getting so beastly dark we won't be able to find the 
 road." 
 
 " And there is no moon until midnight. But come ; 
 we are free. Let us fly the hated spot, as they say in 
 the real novels. How good the air feels ! " 
 
 She was soon leading the way swiftly toward the 
 gate. Night had fallen so quickly that they were in 
 utter darkness. There were lights in the windows 
 of the house on the hill, and the escaped prisoners, 
 with one impulse, shook their clenched hands toward 
 them. 
 
 " I am awfully sorry, Mr. Crosby, that you have 
 endured so much hardship in coming to see me," she 
 went on. "I hope you haven't many such clients 
 as I." 
 
 " One is enough, I assure you," he responded, and 
 somehow she took it as a compliment. 
 
 " I suppose our next step is to get to the railway 
 station," she said. 
 
 " Unless you will condescend to lead me through 
 this assortment of plows, woodpiles, and farm-wag- 
 ons, I'm inclined to think my next step will be my 
 last. Was ever night so dark? " Her warm, strong 
 fingers clutched his arm and then dropped to his 
 hand. In this fashion she led him swiftly through 
 the night, down a short embankment, and into the
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 35 
 
 gravel highway. " The way looks dark and grewsome 
 ahead of us, Mrs. Delancy. As your lawyer, I'd 
 advise you to turn back and find safe lodging with 
 the enemy. It is going to storm, I'm sure." 
 
 "That's your advice as a lawyer, Mr. Crosby. 
 Will you give me your advice as a friend? " she said 
 lightly. Although the time had passed when her 
 guiding hand was necessary, he still held the member 
 in his own. 
 
 " I couldn't be so selfish," he protested, and with- 
 out another word they started off down the road to- 
 ward town. 
 
 " Do you suppose they are delaying the opera in 
 Chicago until you come? " she asked. 
 
 "Poor Graves! he said he'd kill me if I didn't 
 come," said Crosby, laughing. 
 
 "How dreadful!" 
 
 " But I'm not regretting the opera. Quive does 
 not sing until to-morrow night." 
 
 " I adore Quive." 
 
 " You can't possibly have an engagement for to- 
 morrow night either," he said reflectively. 
 
 " I don't see how I could. I expected to be on a 
 Pullman sleeper." 
 
 " I'll come for you at 8: 15 then." 
 
 " You are very good, Mr. Crosby, but I have an- 
 other plan." 
 
 " I beg your pardon for presuming to " he began, 
 and a hot flush mounted to his brow. 
 
 " You are to come at seven for dinner," she sup- 
 plemented delightedly.
 
 36 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " What a nice place the seventh heaven is ! " he 
 cried warmly. 
 
 " Sh ! " she whispered suddenly, and both stopped 
 stock-still. " There is a man with a lantern at the 
 lower gate. See? Over yonder." 
 
 " What of it? Who's afraid of a lantern? " 
 
 " But it is rather odd that the man should be there. 
 Just see what he is doing with the lantern," she ex- 
 postulated. 
 
 " He's putting it on the top of the gatepost, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Well, there must be an object in that." 
 
 " I'll ask the man." 
 
 " It is foolish of me to be alarmed, Mr. Crosby, 
 but I feel in my bones that something is going to 
 happen." 
 
 " I agree with you, only I don't feel it in my bones. 
 It affects my stomach. Why should we stand here 
 and discuss a man with a lantern when both of us are 
 starving to death by yards? We have a mile and a 
 half walk ahead of us " 
 
 " Look ! A buggy is stopping at the gate and 
 there is another. What does it mean ? " 
 
 Two vehicles, dimly outlined against the darkness, 
 had drawn up at the gate, and the man with the 
 lantern advanced to converse with the occupants. 
 
 " That you, Mr. Austin ? " called a voice from the 
 first buggy, as the lantern advanced. 
 
 " Yes. How many men have you with you ? " 
 
 " Robert Austin ! " gasped the fair watcher, clutch- 
 ing Crosby's arm.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 37 
 
 " There are five of us, Mr. Austin. I guess we can 
 take him all right." 
 
 Crosby started violently. 
 
 *' They're after me, Mrs. Delancy," he whispered. 
 A moment later they were off the road and in the 
 dense shadow of the hedge. 
 
 " Is he still in the barn, Mr. Austin? " demanded 
 the man in the buggy. 
 
 " I am posistive he is. No human being could get 
 away from that dog of mine." Crosby chuckled 
 audibly, and Mrs. Delancy with difficulty suppressed 
 a proud giggle. 
 
 " Well, we might as well go up and get him then. 
 Do you think he's a desperate character? " 
 
 "I don't know anything about him, Davis. He 
 says he is a lawyer, but his actions were so strange 
 that I thought you'd best look into his case. A 
 night in the jail won't hurt him, and if he can prove 
 that he is what he says he is, let him go to-morrow. 
 On the other hand, he may turn out to be a very im- 
 portant capture." 
 
 " Oh, this is rich ! " whispered Crosby excitedly. 
 "Austin is certainly doing the job up brown. But 
 wait till he consults Swallow, the infallible; he won't 
 be so positive." For a few minutes the party of 
 men at the gate conversed in low tones, the listeners 
 being able to catch but few of the words uttered. 
 
 " Please let go of my arm, Mrs. Delancy," said 
 Crosby suddenly. 
 
 " Where are you going? " 
 
 " I am going to tell Austin what I think of him.
 
 38 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 You don't expect me to stand by and allow a pack 
 of jays to hunt me down as if I were Jesse James or 
 some other desperado, do you?" 
 
 "Do you suppose they would credit your story? 
 They will throw you into jail and there you'd stay 
 until some one came down from Chicago to identify 
 you." 
 
 " But a word from you would clear me," he said 
 in surprise. 
 
 " If they pinned me down to the truth, I could only 
 say I had never seen you until this afternoon." 
 
 "Great Scott! You know I am Crosby, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " I am positive you are, but what would you, as 
 a lawyer, say to me if you were cross-examining me 
 on the witness stand? You'd ask some very embar- 
 rassing questions, and I could only say in the end 
 that the suspected horse thief told me his name and 
 I was goose enough to believe him. No, my dear 
 friend, I think the safest plan is to take advantage 
 of the few minutes' start we have and escape the 
 law." 
 
 "You mean that I must run from these fellows 
 as if I were really a thief? " 
 
 " Only a suspected thief, you know." 
 
 " I'd rather be arrested a dozen times than to de- 
 sert you at this time." 
 
 " Oh, but I'm going with you," she said positively. 
 
 " Like a thief, too? I could not permit that, you 
 know. Just stop and think how awkward for you it 
 would be if we were caught flying together."
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 39 
 
 " Birds of a feather. It might have been worse if 
 you had not disposed of Swallow." 
 
 " I must tell you what a genuine brick you are. 
 If they overtake us it will give me the greatest delight 
 in the world to fight the whole posse for your sake." 
 
 " After that, do you wonder I want to go with 
 you? " she whispered, and Crosby would have fought 
 a hundred men for her. 
 
 The marshal and his men were now following Mr. 
 Austin and the lantern toward the barn, and the 
 road was quite deserted. Mrs. Delancy and Crosby 
 started off rapidly in the direction of the town. The 
 low rumble of distant thunder came to their ears, 
 and ever and anon the western blackness was faintly 
 illumined by flashes of lightning. Neither of the fugi- 
 tives uttered a word until they were far past the 
 gate. 
 
 " By George, Mrs. Delancy, we are forgetting one 
 important thing," said Crosby. They were striding 
 along swiftly arm in arm. " They'll discover our 
 flight, and the railway station will be just where 
 they'll expect to find us." 
 
 " Oh, confusion ! We can't go to the station, can 
 we?" 
 
 " We can, but we'll be captured with humiliating 
 ease." 
 
 " I know what we can do. Scott Higgins is the 
 tenant on my farm, and he lives half a mile farther 
 from town than Austin. We can turn back to his 
 place, but we will have to cut across one of Mr. 
 Austin's fields."
 
 40 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " Charming. We can have the satisfaction of 
 trampling on some of Mr. Austin's early wheat crop. 
 Right about, face! But, incidentally, what are we 
 to do after we get to Mr. Higgins's? " They were 
 now scurrying back over the ground they had just 
 traversed. 
 
 " Oh, dear me, why should we think about troubles 
 until we come to them? " 
 
 " I wasn't thinking about troubles. I'm thinking 
 about something to eat." 
 
 "You are intensely unromantic. But Mrs. Hig- 
 gins is awfully good. She will give us eggs and cakes 
 and milk and coffee and everything. Won't it be 
 jolly?" 
 
 Five minutes later they were plunging through a 
 field of partly grown wheat, in what she averred to 
 be the direction of the Higgins home. It was not 
 good walking, but they were young and strong and 
 very much interested in one another and the adven- 
 ture. 
 
 " Hello, what's this? A river? " he cried, as the 
 swish of running waters came to his ears. 
 
 "Oh; isn't it dreadful? I forgot this creek was 
 here, and there is no bridge nearer than a mile. What 
 shall we do? See there is a light in Higgins's house 
 over there. Isn't it disgusting? I could sit down 
 and cry," she wailed. In the distance a dog was 
 heard barking fiercely, but they did not recognize the 
 voice of Swallow. A new trouble confronted them. 
 
 " Don't do that," he said resignedly. " Remember 
 how Eliza crossed the ice with the bloodhound* in
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 41 
 
 full trail. Do you know how deep and wide the creek 
 is?" 
 
 " It's a tiny bit of a thing, but it's wet," she said 
 ruefully. 
 
 "I'll carry you over." And a moment later he 
 was splashing through the shallow brook, holding 
 the lithe, warm figure of his client high above the 
 water. As he set her down upon the opposite bank 
 she gave a pretty sigh of satisfaction, and naively 
 told him that he was very strong for a man in the 
 last stages of starvation. 
 
 Two or three noisy dogs gave them the first wel- 
 come, and Crosby sagely looked aloft for refuge. 
 His companion quieted the dogs, however, and the 
 advance on the squat farmhouse was made without 
 resistance. The visitors were not long in acquaint- 
 ing the good-natured and astonished young farmer 
 with the situation. Mrs. Higgins was called from her 
 bed and in a jiffy was bustling about the kitchen, 
 from which soon floated odors so tantalizing that 
 the refugees could scarcely suppress the desire to 
 rush forth and storm the good cook in her castle. 
 
 " It's mighty lucky you got here when you did, 
 Mrs. Delancy," said Higgins, peering from the win- 
 dow. " Looks 's if it might rain before long. We 
 ain't got much of a place here, but, if you'll put up 
 with it, I guess we can take keer of you over night." 
 
 " Oh, but we couldn't think of it," she protested. 
 " After we have had something to eat we must hurry 
 off to the station." 
 
 "What station?" asked Crosby sententiously.
 
 42 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 "I don't know, but it wouldn't be a bit nice to 
 spoil the adventure by stopping now." 
 
 " But we can't walk all over the State of Illinois," 
 he cried. 
 
 " For shame ! You are ready to give up the in- 
 stant something to eat comes in sight. Mr. Higgins 
 may be able to suggest something. What is the 
 nearest " 
 
 " I have it," interrupted Crosby. " The Wabash 
 road runs through this neighborhood, doesn't it? 
 Well, where is its nearest station? " 
 
 " Lonesomeville about four miles south," said 
 Higgins. 
 
 "Do the night trains stop there?" 
 
 " I guess you can flag 'era." 
 
 " There's an east-bound train from St. Louis about 
 midnight, I'm quite sure." 
 
 While the fugitives were enjoying Mrs. Higgins's 
 hastily but adorably prepared meal, the details of 
 the second stage of the flight were perfected. Mr. 
 Higgins gladly consented to hitch up his high- 
 boarded farm wagon and drive them to the station 
 on the Wabash line, and half an hour later Hig- 
 gins's wagon clattered away in the night. To all 
 appearances he was the only passenger. But seated 
 on a soft pile of grain sacks in the rear of the wagon, 
 completely hidden from view by the tall " side-beds," 
 were the refugees. Mrs. Delancy insisted upon this 
 mode of travel as a precaution against the prying 
 eyes of persistent marshal's men. Hidden in the 
 wagon-bed they might reasonably escape detection,
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 43 
 
 she argued, and Crosby humored her for more rea- 
 sons than one. Higgins threw a huge grain tarpaulin 
 over the wagon-bed, and they were sure to be dry 
 in case the rainstorm came as expected. It was 
 so dark that neither could see the face of the other. 
 He had a longing desire to take her hand into his, 
 but there was something in the atmosphere that 
 warned him against such a delightful but unneces- 
 sary proceeding. Naturally, they were sitting quite 
 close to each other; even the severe jolting of the 
 springless wagon could not disturb the feeling of 
 happy contentment. 
 
 " I hope it won't storm," she said nervously, as 
 a little shudder ran through her body. The wind 
 was now blowing quite fiercely and those long-distant 
 rolls of thunder were taking on the sinister sound of 
 near-by crashes. "I don't mind thunder when I'm 
 in the house." 
 
 " And under the bed, I suppose," he laughed. 
 
 " Well, you know, lightning could strike this 
 wagon," she persisted. " Oh, goodness, that was 
 awfully close ! " she cried, as a particularly loud 
 crash came to their ears. 
 
 The wagon came to an abrupt stop, and Crosby 
 was about to crawl forth to demand the reason 
 when the sound of a man's voice came through the 
 rushing wind. 
 
 "What is it?" whispered Mrs. Delancy, clutch- 
 ing his arm. 
 
 " Sh ! " he replied. We're held up by highway- 
 men, I think ! "
 
 44 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " Oh, how lovely ! " she whispered rapturously. 
 
 " How far are you goin'? " came the strange voice 
 from the night. 
 
 "Oh, 's far ag'in as half," responded Higgins 
 warily. 
 
 " That you, Scott? " demanded the other. 
 
 " Yep." 
 
 " Say, Scott, gimme a ride, will you? Goin' as 
 far as Lonesomeville? " 
 
 "What you doin' out this time o' night?" de- 
 manded Higgins. 
 
 " Lookin' for a feller that tried to steal Mr. Au- 
 stin's horses. We thought we had him cornered up 
 to the place, but he got away somehow. But we'll 
 get him. Davis has got fifty men scouring the 
 country, I bet. I been sent on to Lonesomeville to 
 head him off if he tries to take a train. He's a purty 
 desperate character, they say, too, Scott. Say, 
 gimme a lift as far as you're agoin', won't 
 you?" 
 
 " I I well, I reckon so," floundered the helpless 
 Higgins. 
 
 " Really, this is getting a bit serious," whispered 
 Crosby to his breathless companion. 
 
 The deputy was now on the seat with Higgins, and 
 the latter, bewildered and dismayed beyond expres- 
 sion, was urging his horses into their fastest 
 trot. , 
 
 " How far is it to Lonesomeville? " asked the dep- 
 uty. 
 
 " 'Bout two mile."
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 46 
 
 "It'll rain before we get there," said the other 
 significantly. 
 
 "I'm not afeared of rain," said Higgins, 
 
 " What are you goin' over there this time o' night 
 for? " asked the other. "You ain't got much of a 
 load." 
 
 " I'm I'm takin' some meat over to Mr. Talbert." 
 
 "Hams?" 
 
 "No; jest bacon," answered Scott, and his two 
 hearers in the wagon-bed laughed silently. 
 
 " Not many people out a night like this," volun- 
 teered the deputy. 
 
 " Nope." 
 
 " That a tarpaulin you got in the back of the bed? 
 Jest saw it by the lightnin'." 
 
 " Got the bacon kivered to keep it from gittin' 
 wet 'n case it rains," hastily interpose3 Scott. He 
 was discussing within himself the advisability of 
 knocking the deputy from the seat and whipping the 
 team into a gallop, leaving him behind. 
 
 " You don't mind my crawlin' under the tarpaulin 
 if it rains, do you, Scott? " 
 
 " There ain't no no room under it, Harry, an' I 
 won't allow that bacon to git wet under no considera- 
 tion." 
 
 A generous though nerve-racking crash of thunder 
 changed the current of conversation. It drifted from 
 the weather immediately, however, to a one-sided dis- 
 cussion of the escaped horse thief. 
 
 " I guess he's a purty slick one," they heard the 
 deputy say. " Austin said he had him dead to rights
 
 46 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 in his barn! That big bulldog of his had him treed 
 on a beam, but when we got there, just after dark, 
 the darned cuss was gone, an' the dog was trapped 
 up in a box-stall. By thunder, it showed how des- 
 perate the feller is. He evidently come down from 
 that beam an' jest naturally picked that turrible 
 bulldog up by the neck an' throwed him over into the 
 stall." 
 
 "Have you got a revolver?" asked Higgins 
 loudly. 
 
 " Sure ! You don't s'pose I'd go up against that 
 kind of a man without a gun, do you ? " 
 
 " Oh, goodness ! " some one whispered in Crosby's 
 ear. 
 
 " But he ain't armed," argued Higgins. " If he'd 
 had a gun don't you s'pose he'd shot the dog an' got 
 away long before he did? " 
 
 " That shows how much you know about these 
 crooks, Higgins," said the other loftily. " He had 
 a mighty good reason for not shooting the dog." 
 
 "What was the reason?" 
 
 " I don't know jest what it was, but any darned 
 fool ought to see that he had a reason. Else why 
 didn't he shoot? Course he had a reason. But the 
 funny part of the whole thing is what has become of 
 the woman." 
 
 "What woman?" 
 
 " That widder," responded the other, and Crosby 
 felt her arm harden. " I never thought much o' that 
 woman. You'd think she owned the whole town of 
 Dexter to see her paradin' around the streets, showin'
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 47 
 
 off her city clothes, an' all such, stuff. They do say 
 she led George Delancy a devil of a life, an' it's no 
 wonder he died." 
 
 " The wretch ! " came from the rear of the wagon. 
 
 " Well, she's up and skipped out with the horse 
 thief. Austin says she tried to protect him, and I 
 guess they had a regular family row over the affair. 
 She's gone an' the man's gone, an' it looks darned 
 suspicious. He was a good-lookin' feller, Austin 
 says, an' she's dead crazy to git another man, I've 
 heard. Dang me, it's jest as I said to Davis: I 
 wouldn't put it above her to take up with this good- 
 lookin' thief an' skip off with him. Her husband's 
 been dead more'n two year, an' she's too darned 
 purty to stay in strict mournin' longer'n she has 
 
 But just then something strong, firm, and re- 
 sistless grasped his neck from behind, and, even as 
 he opened his mouth to gasp out his surprise and 
 alarm, a vise-like grip shut down on his thigh, and 
 then, he was jerked backward, lifted upward, tossed 
 outward, falling downward. The wagon clattered 
 off in the night, and a tall man and a woman looked 
 over the side of the wagon-bed and waited for the next 
 flash of lightning to show them where the official gos- 
 siper had fallen. The long, blinding, flash came, 
 and Crosby saw the man as he picked himself from 
 the ditch at the roadside. 
 
 " Whip up, Higgins, and we'll leave him so far 
 behind he'll never catch us," cried Crosby eagerly. 
 The first drops of rain began to fall and Mrs. De-
 
 48 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 lancy hurriedly crawled beneath the tarpaulin, urg- 
 ing him to follow at once. Another flash of light- 
 ning revealed the deputy, far back in the road waving 
 his hands frantically. 
 
 " I'm glad his neck isn't broken. Hurry on, Mr. 
 Higgins ; it is now more urgent than ever that you 
 save your bacon." 
 
 " 'Tain't very comfortable ridin' for Mrs. De- 
 lancy," apologized Higgins, his horses in a lope. 
 
 " If the marshal asks you why you didn't stop and 
 help his deputy, just tell him that the desperado held 
 a pistol at your head and commanded you to drive 
 like the devil. Holy mackerel, here comes the del- 
 uge ! " An instant later he was under the tarpaulin, 
 crouching beside his fellow fugitive. Conversation 
 was impossible, so great was the noise of the rain- 
 storm and the rattle of the wagon over the hard pike. 
 He did his best to protect her from the jars and 
 bumps incident to the leaping and jolting of the 
 wagon, and both were filled with rejoicing when Hig- 
 gins shouted " Whoa ! " to the horses and brought 
 the wild ride to an end. 
 
 " Where are we? " cried Crosby, sticking his head 
 from beneath the tarpaulin. 
 
 " We're in the dump-shed of the grain elevator, 
 just across the track from the depot." 
 
 "And the ride is over?" 
 
 " Yep. Did you get bumped much ? " 
 
 " It was worse, a thousand times, than sitting on 
 the beam," bemoaned a sweet, tired voice, and a 
 moment later the two refugees stood erect in the
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 49 
 
 wagon, neither quite sure that legs so tired and stiff 
 could serve as support. 
 
 "It was awful; wasn't it?" Crosby said, stretch- 
 ing himself painfully. 
 
 " Are you not drenched to the skin, Mr. Higgins? " 
 cried Mrs. Delancy anxiously. " How selfish of us 
 not to have thought of you before ! " 
 
 "Oh, that's all right. This gum coat kept me 
 purty dry." 
 
 He and Crosby assisted her from the wagon, and, 
 while the former gave his attention to the wet and 
 shivering horses, the latter took her arm and walked 
 up and down the dark shed with her. 
 
 " I think you are regretting the impulse that urged 
 you into this folly," he was saying. 
 
 " If you persist in accusing me of faint-heartedness, 
 Mr. Crosby, I'll never speak to you again," she said. 
 " I cast my lot with a desperado, as the deputy in- 
 sinuated, and I am sure you have not heard me bewail 
 my fate. Isn't it worth something to have one day 
 and night of real adventure? My gown must be a 
 sight, and I know my hair is just dreadful, but my 
 heart is gayer and brighter to-night than it has been 
 in years." 
 
 "And you don't regret anything that has hap- 
 pened ? " he asked, pressing her arm ever so slightly. 
 
 " My only regret is that you heard what the dep- 
 uty said about me. You don't believe I am like 
 that, do you? " There was sweet womanly concern 
 in her voice. 
 
 "I wish it were light enough to see your face,"
 
 50 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 he answered, his lips close to her ear. " I know you 
 are blushing, and you must be more beautiful Oh, 
 no, of course I don't think you are at all as he 
 painted you," he concluded, suddenly checking him- 
 self and answering the plaintive question he had al- 
 most ignored. 
 
 " Thank you, kind sir," she said lightly, but he 
 failed not to observe the tinge of confusion in the 
 laugh that followed. 
 
 " If you'll watch the team, Mr. Crosby," the voice 
 of Higgins broke in at this timely juncture, " I'll run 
 acrost to the depot an' ast about the train." 
 
 " Much obliged, old man ; much obliged," returned 
 Crosby affably. " Are you afraid to be alone in the 
 dark? " he asked, as Higgins rushed out into the 
 rain. The storm had abated by this time and there 
 was but the faintest suggestion of distant thunder 
 and lightning, the after-fall of rain being little more 
 than a drizzle. 
 
 " Awfully," she confessed, " but it's safer here 
 than on the beam," she added, and his heart grew 
 very tender as he detected the fatigue in her voice. 
 " Anyhow, we have the papers safely signed." 
 
 " Mrs. Delancy, I I swear that you shall never 
 regret this day and night," he said, stopping in his 
 walk and placing his hands on her shoulders. She 
 caught her breath quickly. " Do you know what I 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I I think I'm not quite sure," she stammered. 
 
 " You will know some day," he said huskily. 
 
 When Mr. Higgins appeared at the end of the
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 51 
 
 shed, carrying a lighted lantern, he saw a tall young 
 man and a tall young woman standing side by side, 
 awaiting his approach with the unconcern of persons 
 who have no interest in common. 
 
 " Ah, a lantern," cried Crosby. " Now we can 
 see what we look like and and who we are." 
 
 Higgins informed them that an east-bound pas- 
 senger train went through in twenty minutes, stop- 
 ping on the side track to allow west-bound No. 7 to 
 pass. This train also took water near the bridge 
 which crossed the river just west of the depot. The 
 west-bound train was on time, the other about five 
 minutes late. He brought the welcome news that the 
 rain was over and that a few stars were peeping 
 through the western sky. There was unwelcome 
 news, however, in the statement that the mud was 
 ankle deep from the elevator to the station platform 
 and that the washing out of a street culvert would 
 prevent him from using the wagon. 
 
 " I don't mind the mud," said Mrs. Delancy, very 
 bravely indeed. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Delancy, I can and will carry 
 you a mile or more rather than have one atom of 
 Lonesomeville mud bespatter those charming boots 
 of yours," said Crosby cheerfully, and her protesta- 
 tions were useless against the argument of both men. 
 
 The distance was not great from the sheds to the 
 station and was soon covered. Crosby was muddy 
 to his knees, but his fair passenger was as dry as 
 toast when he lowered her to the platform. 
 
 " You are every bit as strong as the hero in the
 
 52 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 modern novel," she said gaily. " After this, I'll be- 
 lieve every word the author says about his stalwart, 
 indomitable hero." 
 
 To say that Higgins was glad to be homeward 
 bound would be putting it too mildly. The sigh of 
 relief that came from him as he drove out of town a 
 few minutes later was so audible that he heard it 
 himself and smiled contentedly. If he expected to 
 meet the unlamented Harry Brown on the home trip, 
 he was to be agreebly disappointed. Mr. Brown was 
 not on the roadway. He was, instead, on the depot 
 platform at Lonesomeville, and when the west-bound 
 express train whistled for the station he was stand- 
 ing grimly in front of two dumfounded young people 
 who sat sleepily and unwarily on a baggage truck. 
 
 The feeble-eyed lantern sat on the platform near 
 Crosby's swinging feet, and the picture that it looked 
 upon was one suggestive of the cheap, sensational, and 
 blood-curdling border drama. A mud-covered man 
 stood before the trapped fugitives, a huge revolver 
 in his hand, the muzzle of which, even though it wob- 
 bled painfully, was uncomfortably close to Mr. 
 Crosby's nose. 
 
 " Throw up your hands ! " said Brown, his 
 hoarse voice shaking perceptibly. Crosby's hands 
 went up instantly, for he was a man and a diplomat. 
 
 " Point it the other way ! " cried the lady, with true 
 feminine tact. " How dare you ! Oh, will it go off? 
 Please, please put it away ! We won't try to 
 escape ! " 
 
 *' I'm takin' no chances on this feller," said Brown
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 53 
 
 grimly. " It won't go off, ma'am, unless he makes a 
 move to git away." 
 
 " What do you want? " demanded Crosby indig- 
 nantly. " My money ? Take it, if you like, but 
 don't be long about it." 
 
 " I'm no robber, darn you." 
 
 "Well, what in thunder do you mean then by 
 holding me up at the point of a revolver? " 
 
 " I'm an officer of the law an' I arrest you. That's 
 what I'm here for," said Brown. 
 
 "Arrest me? " exclaimed Crosby in great amaze- 
 ment. " What have I done? " 
 
 "No back talk now, young feller. You're the 
 man we're after, an' it won't do you any good to 
 chew the rag about it." 
 
 " If you don't turn that horrid pistol away, I'll 
 faint," cried femininity in collapse. Crosby's arm 
 went about her waist and she hid her terror-stricken 
 eyes on his shoulder. 
 
 " Keep that hand up ! " cried Brown threateningly. 
 
 " Don't be mean about it, old man. Can't you see 
 that my arm is not at all dangerous ? " 
 
 " I've got to search you." 
 
 " Search me? Well, I guess not. Where is your 
 authority?" 
 
 " I'm a deputy marshal from Dexter." 
 
 " Have you been sworn in, sir ? " 
 
 " Aw, that's all right now. No more rag chewin' 
 out of you. That'll do you! Keep your hands up ! >? 
 
 "What am I charged with? " 
 
 " Attempted horse stealin', an' you know it."
 
 54 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 "Have you a warrant? What is my name?" 
 
 " That'll do you now; that'll do you." 
 
 " See here, my fine friend, you've made a sad mis- 
 take. I'm not the man you want. I'm ready to go 
 to jail, if you insist, but it will cost you every dollar 
 you have in the world. I'll make you pay dearly 
 for calling an honest man a thief, sir." Crosby's 
 indignation was beautifully assumed and it took ef- 
 fect. 
 
 " Mr. Austin is the man who ordered your arrest," 
 he explained. " I know Mrs. Delancy here all right, 
 an' she left Austin's with you." 
 
 "What are you talking about, man? She is my 
 cousin and drove over here this evening to see me be^ 
 tween trains. I think you'd better lower your gun, 
 my friend. This will go mighty hard with you." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " He has you confused with that horse thief who 
 said his name was Crosby, Tom," said she, pinching 
 his arm delightedly. " He was the worst-looking 
 brute I ever saw. I thought Mr. Austin had him so 
 secure with the bulldog as guardian. Did he 
 escape? " 
 
 " Yes, an' you went with him," exclaimed Brown, 
 making a final stand. " An' I know all about how 
 you come over here in Scott Higgins's wagon too." 
 
 " The man is crazy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Delancy. 
 
 " He may have escaped from the asylum up north 
 of here," whispered Crosby, loud enough for the 
 ideputy to hear. 
 
 *' Here comes the train," cried she. " Now we can 

 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 55 
 
 ask the train men to disarm him and send him back 
 to the asylum. Isn't it awful that such dangerous 
 people can be at large? " 
 
 Brown lowered his pistol as the engine thundered 
 past. The pilot was almost in the long bridge at the 
 end of the depot when the train stopped to wait for 
 the east-bound express to pass. The instant that 
 Brown's revolver arm was lowered and his head turned 
 with uncertainty to look at the train, Crosby's hand 
 went to his coat pocket, and when the deputy turned 
 toward him again he found himself looking into the 
 shiny, glittering barrel of a pistol. 
 
 " Throw that gun away, my friend," said Crosby 
 in a low tone, " or I'll blow your brains out." 
 
 " Great Scott ! " gasped Brown. 
 
 " Throw it away ! " 
 
 " Don't kill him," pleaded Mrs. Delancy. Brown's 
 knees were shaking like leaves and his teeth chattered. 
 His revolver sailed through the air and clattered on 
 the brick pavement beyond the end of the platform. 
 
 " Don't shoot," he pleaded, ready to drop to his 
 knees. 
 
 " I won't if you are good and kind and obliging," 
 said Crosby sternly. " Turn around face the en- 
 gine. That's right. Now listen to me. I've got this 
 pistol jammed squarely against your back, and if 
 you make a false move well, you won't have time to 
 regret it. Answer my questions too. How long is 
 that bridge?" 
 
 i_i do don't kno ow." 
 
 " It's rather long, isn't it? "
 
 56 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 " With the fill and trestle it's nearly half a mile." 
 
 "What is the next stop west of here for this 
 train? " 
 
 " Hopville, forty mile west." 
 
 " Where does the east-bound train stop next after 
 leaving here? " 
 
 " It don't stop till it gits over in Indiana, thirty 
 mile or more." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you. Now walk straight 
 ahead until you come to the blind end of the mail 
 car." 
 
 At the front end of the mail car Crosby and his 
 prisoner halted. . Every one knows that the head 
 end of the coach just back of the engine tender is 
 " blind." That is, there is no door leading to the 
 interior, and one must stand outside on the narrow 
 platform if, perchance, he is there when the train 
 starts. As the east-bound train pulled in from the 
 bridge, coming to a stop on the track beyond the 
 west-bound train, Crosby commanded his erstwhile 
 captor to climb aboard the blind end of the mail 
 coach. 
 
 " Geewhillikers, don't make me do that," groaned 
 the unhappy Brown. 
 
 " Get aboard and don't argue. You can come 
 back to-morrow, you know, and you're perfectly safe 
 if you stay awake and don't roll off. Hurry up! 
 If you try to jump off before you reach the bridge 
 I'll shoot." 
 
 A moment later the train pulled into the bridge 
 and Crosby hurried back to his anxious companion. 
 Brown was on his way to a station forty miles west,
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 57 
 
 and he did not dare risk jumping off. By the time 
 the train reached the far end of the bridge it was 
 running forty miles an hour. 
 
 "Where is he? " she cried in alarm as he rushed 
 with her across the intervening space to the coveted 
 " east-bound." 
 
 " I'll tell you all about it when we get inside this 
 train," he answered. " I think Brown is where he 
 can't telegraph to head us off any place along the 
 line, and if we once get into Indiana we are com- 
 paratively safe. Up you go ! " and he lifted her up 
 the car steps. 
 
 " Safe," she sighed, as they dropped into a seat 
 in a coach. 
 
 " I'm ashamed to mention it, my dear accomplice, 
 but are you quite sure you have your purse with you? 
 With the usual luck of a common thief, I am penni- 
 less." 
 
 " Penniless because you gave your fortune to the 
 cause of freedom," she supplemented, fumbling in her 
 chatelaine bag for her purse. " Here it is. The con- 
 tents are yours until the end of our romance." 
 
 The conductor took fare from him to Lafayette 
 and informed the mud-covered gentleman that he 
 could get a train from that city to Chicago at 2 : 30 
 in the morning. 
 
 " We're all right now," said Crosby after the con- 
 ductor had passed on. " You are tired, little woman. 
 Lie back and go to sleep. The rough part of the ad- 
 venture is almost over." He secured a pillow for her,
 
 68 THE DAY OF THE DOG 
 
 and she was soon resting as comfortably as it was 
 possible in the day coach of a passenger train. 
 
 For many minutes he sat beside her, his eyes rest- 
 ing on the beautiful tired face with its closed eyes, 
 long lashes, pensive mouth, and its frame of dark 
 hair, disarranged and wild. 
 
 " It's strange," he thought, almost aloud, " how 
 suddenly it comes to a fellow. Twelve hours ago I 
 was as free as a bird in the air, and now " 
 
 Just then her eyes opened widely with a start, as 
 if she had suddenly come from a rather terrifying 
 dream. They looked squarely into his, and he felt so 
 abashed that he was about to turn away when, with a 
 little catch in her voice, she exclaimed: 
 
 " Good heavens ! " 
 
 "What is it? "he cried. 
 
 " You are not married, are you? " 
 
 "NO!!!" 
 
 Like a culprit caught she blushed furiously, and 
 her eyes wavered as the lids fell, shutting from his 
 eager, surprised gaze the prettiest confusion in the 
 world. 
 
 " I It just occurred to me to ask," she murmured. 
 
 Crosby's exhilaration was so great that, after a 
 long, hungry look at the peaceful face, he jumped 
 up and went out into the vestibule, where he whistled 
 with all the ardor of a school-boy. When he re- 
 turned to his seat beside her she was awake, and the 
 little look of distress left her face when he appeared, 
 a happy smile succeeding. 
 
 " I thought you had deserted me," she said.
 
 THE DAY OF THE DOG 59 
 
 " Perish the thought." 
 
 " Mr. Crosby, if you had a pistol all the time we 
 were in the barn, why did you not shoot the dog and 
 free us hours before you did? " she asked sternly. 
 
 " I had no pistol," he grinned. From his pocket 
 he drew a nickel-plated menthol inhaler and calmly 
 leveled it at her head. " It looked very much like a 
 pistol in the darkness," he said, " and it deserves a 
 place among the cherished relics descending from 
 our romance." 
 
 The next night two happy, contented persons sat 
 in a brilliant Chicago theatre, and there was nothing 
 in their appearance to indicate that the day and 
 night before had been the most strenuous in their 
 lives. 
 
 " This is more comfortable than a cross beam in a 
 barn," she smiled. 
 
 " But it is more public," he responded. 
 
 Three months later but Crosby won both suits.
 
 THE FLYERS
 
 THE FLYERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE FARAWAY CLUB 
 
 A cold, thick drizzle, blown by a biting wind that 
 sent chills to the marrow, marred the early spring 
 night, and kept indoors the few hardy members who 
 had haunted the clubhouse since the season's opening 
 a week before. Not more than a dozen loyal devotees 
 to the sports of the open air lounged about the big 
 clubhouse. Three or four rangy young women in 
 sweaters and jackets strove bravely to dispel the 
 gloom of the night as it settled down upon the growl- 
 ing masculine majority. The club steward hovered 
 near, anxiously directing the movements of a silent 
 and as yet undrilled corps of servants who flitted 
 from group to group with decanters and checks, tak- 
 ing and mistaking orders with the usual abandon. A 
 huge fireplace threw out heat sufficient to make the 
 big lounging room comfortable. Now and then a 
 spiteful gust of wind swept the rain against the 
 western window-panes with a menace that set the 
 teeth on edge. 
 
 61
 
 62 THE FLYERS 
 
 " Rotten night," reflected the big man who 
 monopolised the roomiest chair and the best position 
 in front of the blazing logs. " Going to town to- 
 night ? " The question was general : there were half 
 a dozen answers. Every one was going in by the last 
 express. All of them had dined well: they had been 
 hungry and the club was a wealthy one; even the 
 most exclusive of appetites could be entertained at 
 the Faraway Country Club. The last 'bus was to 
 leave the clubhouse at ten minutes past ten, and it 
 was then half-past eight. Ten minutes' drive from 
 the clubhouse on the edge of the little town to the 
 railway station then thirty minutes to the heart 
 of the big city in which the members lived and died at 
 great risk to themselves. 
 
 Each succeeding spring saw the formal opening of 
 the Faraway Country Club. The boards were pulled 
 down from the windows and the door hinges were oiled 
 properly after a winter of discontent. May saw the 
 reopening, but it was not until June that crowds 
 began to fill the house and grounds. Only the more 
 restless and hardy had the temerity to test the 
 pleasures of the raw spring days and nights. The 
 M. F. H. was a loyal, eager chap; he knew what 
 was required of him in his official capacity. With the 
 first symptoms of softening soil he led his followers 
 through field and wood, promising the " real hunt " 
 inside of a month. Following a pack of overfed 
 hounds was what every one at Faraway Club called 
 a " real hunt." 
 
 The night so meagrely described at the beginning
 
 THE FLYERS 63 
 
 of this tale followed hard upon a grey, chill day. 
 A few golfers had spent the afternoon upon the 
 course, inanely cursing the temporary tees and 
 greens. A couple of polo enthusiasts tried out their 
 ponies, and several men and women took their hunters 
 over the course, that fairly bristled with spectres of 
 last year's anise-seed. Now they were comfortably 
 ensconced in the clubhouse, berating the unfortunate 
 elements, and waiting for the last express with a per- 
 sistency which allowed three or four earlier trains to 
 come and go unnoticed. The cheerful highball was 
 coming into its own. A stern winter of bridge had 
 not killed the ardour of certain worshippers; con- 
 tinuous criticism of play arose from the table in the 
 corner where two men and two women were engaged 
 with the cards. 
 
 The perennial bore, who noses into everything in 
 order to sniff his own wit, sauntered amiably from 
 group to group, pouring out jests as murky as the 
 night itself. He saw none of the scowls nor heard 
 the toe-taps; he went blithely along his bridgeless 
 way. 
 
 " I say, Brown, I saw your wife on the street 
 yesterday, but she didn't see me," he observed to the 
 blase-looking man in corduroys. 
 
 " Ya-as," returned the other, calmly staring past 
 him ; " so she told me last night." The bore and his 
 blissful smile passed on to the next group. There, 
 two or three women were chatting with as many men, 
 yawning and puffing at their cigarettes, bored by the 
 risque stories the men were telling, but smiling as
 
 64. THE FLYERS 
 
 though they had not already heard them from other 
 men. Occasional remarks, dropped softly into the 
 ears of the women, may have brought faint blushes to 
 their cheeks, but the firelight was a fickle consort to 
 such changes. The sly turn of a sentence gave many 
 a double meaning; the subtle glance of the eye in- 
 tended no harm. Dobson's new toast to " fair 
 women " earned a roar of laughter, but afterwards 
 Dobson was called to account by a husband who 
 realised. A man over in the corner was thumping 
 aimlessly on the piano ; a golf fanatic was vigorously 
 contending that he had driven 243 yards against the 
 wind ; a tennis enthusiast was lamenting the fact that 
 the courts were too soft to be used ; there was a cer- 
 tain odour of rain-soaked clothes in the huge room, 
 ascendant even above the smell of cigarettes. Alto- 
 gether, it was a night that owed much to the weather. 
 
 Mrs. Scudaway, dashing horsewoman and exponent 
 of the free rein, was repeating the latest story con- 
 cerning an intimate friend of every one present and, 
 consequently, absent. 
 
 " She's just sailed for Europe, and that good- 
 looking actor friend of the family happened to go on 
 the same steamer," she was saying with a joyous 
 smile. 
 
 " Accidents will happen," remarked some one, 
 benevolently. 
 
 "Where's her husband? I haven't seen him with 
 her in months," came from one of the men. 
 
 " Oh, they have two children, you know," explained 
 Mrs. Scudaway.
 
 THE FLYERS 65 
 
 " Delicate, I hear," said Miss Ratliff. 
 
 " Naturally ; he nurses them," said Mrs. Scudaway, 
 blowing smoke half -way across the room through her 
 delicate nostrils. 
 
 " I say, Mrs. Scudaway," cried the rapt bore, 
 " don't you ever do anything but inhale ? " 
 
 " Yes, I exhale occasionally. No, thanks," as he 
 held forth an ash tray. Then she flecked the ashes 
 into the fireplace, ten feet away. 
 
 " Good Lord, it's a rotten night ! " repeated the 
 big man, returning dismally from a visit to the 
 window. " There's a beastly fog mixed in with the 
 rain." 
 
 " Better blow the fog horn for Henderson," said 
 Ratliff, with a jerk of his thumb. " He's half seas 
 over already and shipping a lot of water." Hender- 
 son, the convivial member, was on his third siphon. 
 
 " I don't care a whoop what McAlpine says," 
 roared an irascible gentleman on the opposite side 
 of the fireplace ; " a man ought to use a midiron 
 when he gets that kind of a lie. Nobody but an ass 
 would take a brassie. He's " 
 
 " Just listen to that blethering idiot," said young 
 Rolfe to the lady beside him. "He ought to be 
 choked." 
 
 " I like the way you speak of my husband," she 
 responded gaily. 
 
 " Oh, I forgot. He is your husband, isn't he? " 
 Then, after a moment's easy contemplation of the 
 pretty young woman and a scornful glance at the 
 golfer : " Lucky, but a very poor watchdog."
 
 66 THE FLYERS 
 
 " He barks beautifully," resented the young wife, 
 with a loyal grimace. 
 
 " That's why you're not afraid of him," he said 
 quickly. 
 
 " Don't you think he'd bite? " 
 
 " They never do." 
 
 " Well, you just try him, that's all," remarked the 
 young wife coldly, rising and moving away, a touch 
 of red in her cheeks. 
 
 "I will," he sang out genially, as he crossed his 
 legs and stretched his feet out to the fire. She looked 
 back with a mirthless smile on her lips. 
 
 The man at the piano struck up the insidious " La 
 Mattchiche," suggestive of the Bal Tabarin and other 
 Fourteenth of July devotions. 
 
 " Don't play that, Barkley," complained the big 
 man, as every one began beating time to the fascinat- 
 ing air. " I'm trying to forget Paris." 
 
 " Can you ever forget that night in Maxim's " 
 began Mrs. Scudaway. 
 
 "I recall the next day more vividly," he inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " Changing the subject," inserted the amiable bore, 
 his moon-face beaming, " I see that the Thursdales 
 have opened their place across the ravine. Isn't it 
 rather early for them to leave town for the sum- 
 mer?" 
 
 " They come out every year about this time." 
 
 " Lot of people will be opening their places next 
 week. I saw Mrs. Gorgus today. She says they're 
 putting her house in shape "
 
 THE FLYERS 67 
 
 " Impossible ! " cried Mrs. Tanner. " It hasn't any 
 shape." 
 
 " The only thing that could put the Gorgus house 
 in shape is an earthquake. Who was the architect 
 of that abortion ? " demanded Rolfe. 
 
 " Denison. He's an impressionist." 
 
 " The Thursdales have a new French car. Have 
 you seen it? Eleanor ran over here in it this after- 
 noon with her Englishman. Showing off both of her 
 novelties at once, d'ye see? " said Carter, the tennis 
 player. 
 
 " I understand the thing's a go sure go," said 
 the big man. " In the fall some time. He's a rather 
 decent chap, too." 
 
 " And, what's better, if his brother and his cousin 
 should happen to die, he'll be a duke." 
 
 " If they're as healthy as he seems to be, there'll be 
 nothing doing for him." 
 
 A good-looking young fellow, who had been staring 
 at the fire all evening, moved uneasily in his lounging 
 chair. Several quick glances were sent to where he 
 sat moodily apart from the others, and then sur- 
 reptitious winks and nudges were exchanged. 
 
 "Joe is as crazy in love with her as ever, poor 
 devil," whispered Rolfe. Gradually the group of 
 gossips came closer together over the table top; the 
 conversation was continued in more subdued tones. 
 
 " They're discussing me, damn 'em," said the 
 moody young man to himself. " I suppose they're 
 pitying me. Damn cats ! But I'll show 'em a thing 
 or two they're not looking for before long." He
 
 68 THE FLYERS 
 
 looked at his watch for the twentieth time in an hour 
 and scowled at the drenched window-panes across 
 the way. For some reason this exceedingly nice-look- 
 ing young man was in a state of extreme nervousness, 
 a condition which, luckily for him, he was able to keep 
 within himself. 
 
 And this was what Mrs. Scudaway was saying in 
 an urgent undertone to the half dozen who leaned 
 across the big table: " Joe is a mighty good sort, and 
 I'm sorry for him. He's been good enough for 
 Eleanor Thursdale ever since she came out two years 
 ago, and I don't see why he should cease being good 
 enough for her now. This Englishman hasn't any 
 more money and he isn't half as good looking. He's 
 English, that's all. Her mother's crazy to have a 
 look in at some of those London functions she's read 
 so much about. She's an awful ass, don't you think, 
 Tommy?" 
 
 " Ya-as," said the blast man; " such as she is." 
 
 " Mighty hard lines, this thing of being an ordinary 
 American," lamented the placid bore. 
 
 "One might just as well be called Abraham or 
 Isaac," reflected Carter. 
 
 " No romantic young lover would live through the 
 first chapter with either of those names," said pretty 
 Miss Ratliff , who read every novel that came out. 
 
 " Dauntless has been terribly out of humour for 
 the past week or two," said Carter. " He's horribly 
 cut up over the affair, grouchy as blazes, and flocks 
 by himself all the time. That's not like him, either." 
 
 " He's the sweetest boy I know," commented little
 
 THE FLYERS 69 
 
 Mrs. Tanner, whose husband had barked about the 
 midiron. 
 
 " I've heard he's the only man you ever really 
 loved," murmured Rolfe, close to her ear. 
 
 " Nonsense ! I've known him all my life," she re- 
 plied, with quick and suspicious resentment. 
 
 " Trite phrase," scoffed he. " I'll wager my head 
 that every woman living has uttered that same worn 
 expression a hundred times. ' Known him all my 
 life ! ' Ha, ha ! It's a stock apology, my dear. 
 Women, good and bad, trade under that flag. Please, 
 to oblige me, get a fresh excuse." 
 
 " The most ignorant duffer in the world could lay 
 you a stymie if " the loud-voiced golfer was com- 
 plaining just at that instant. The man he was 
 addressing was nodding his head politely and at the 
 same time trying to hear what was being said at the 
 round table. 
 
 "Joe Dauntless is good enough for anybody's 
 (daughter," vouchsafed the blase man in corduroys. 
 
 " He's a ripping good fellow," again said Mrs. 
 Scudaway. 
 
 " Mrs. Thursdale's got an English governess for 
 her kids, an English butler, an English bull terrier, 
 and a new Cobden-Sanderson binding on that antique 
 History of England she talks so much about," ob- 
 served Carter. 
 
 " And she's beginning to wear her evening gowns 
 on the street in the morning. Besides, her shoes lob 
 over at the heels," remarked the rangy Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " Yes, she's getting to be thoroughly English. I've
 
 70 THE FLYERS 
 
 noticed a tendency to chirp like a bird when she talks, 
 too." 
 
 " That governess is a mighty stunning girl, by the 
 way," said Rolfe. 
 
 " She's been over here a year, you know," said Mrs. 
 Scudaway, with no apparent relevancy. 
 
 " Have you heard when Eleanor's engagement is to 
 be announced? " asked Miss Ratliff. 
 
 "I'm not supposed to tell, but I have it on the 
 best authority that it will be announced next week, 
 and the wedding will take place in November. I sup- 
 pose they'll ask Joe Dauntless to be an usher," said 
 Mrs. Carter. 
 
 " Hello ! Joe's gone outside. He must have heard 
 something we said," said Rolfe, setting his highball 
 glass down with a thump. 
 
 " Oh, if he had only been educated at Cambridge 
 instead of in Cambridge," mourned Mrs. Carter. 
 
 It was true that the tall, good-looking Mr. Daunt- 
 less had left the room, but not because he had heard 
 the comments of his friends. He was standing on the 
 windswept verandah, peering through the mist to- 
 ward a distant splash of light across the ravine to 
 the right of the club grounds. The fog and mist 
 combined to run the many lights of the Thursdale 
 windows into a single smear of colour a few shades 
 brighter than the darkness from which it protruded. 
 Dauntless's heart was inside that vague, impres- 
 sionistic circle of colour, but his brain was very much 
 in evidence on the distant outside. What were the 
 workings of that eager brain will soon be revealed
 
 THE FLYERS 71 
 
 to the reader, at least, if not to the occupants of the 
 rain-bound clubhouse. 
 
 A word concerning Dauntless. He was the good- 
 looking son of old banker Dauntless, who died im- 
 mediately after his cashier brought ruin to the con- 
 cern of which he was president. This blow fell when 
 his son was in his senior year at Harvard. He 
 took his degree, and then, instead of the promised 
 trip around the world, he came home and went to 
 work in the offices of a big brokerage firm. Every- 
 body knew and liked him. He was a steady, earnest 
 worker, and likewise a sportsman of the right tem- 
 perament. Big, fashionable Faraway looked upon 
 him as its most gallant member; no one cared to re- 
 member that he might have been very rich ; every one 
 loved him because he had been rich and was worthy 
 in spite of that. It was common knowledge that he 
 was desperately in love with pretty Eleanor Thurs- 
 dale, daughter of the eminently fashionable and 
 snobbishly aristocratic widow Thursdale, mistress of 
 many millions and leader of select hundreds. More- 
 over, it was now pretty well known that Mrs. Thurs- 
 dale had utterly lost sight of Dauntless in surveying 
 the field of desirable husbands for Eleanor. She 
 could see nothing but Englishmen, behind whom lurked 
 the historic London drawing-rooms and British 
 estates. That is how and why young Windomshire, 
 a most delightful Londoner, with prospects and a 
 peerage behind him, came to be a guest in her city 
 house, following close upon a long sojourn in the 
 Bermudas. He had been chosen ; the battle was over,
 
 72 THE FLYERS 
 
 so far as Eleanor's hand was concerned. What mat- 
 ter if Dauntless had her heart? 
 
 The object of this indifference and scorn gazed 
 long and hard at the blob of light across the ravine. 
 His heart was beating fast, and his body tingled with 
 a strange excitement, which made itself manifest in a 
 mixture of impatient frowns and prophetic smiles. 
 
 " If it wasn't such a beastly night," he was mutter- 
 ing in one breath, and, " Still, it's just the sort of a 
 night we want," in the next. He was looking at his 
 watch in the light from the window when an automo- 
 bile whizzed up the wet gravel drive and came to a 
 stop in front of the club steps. As Dauntless re- 
 entered the house from the verandah, a tall young 
 man in a motor coat and goggles came in through 
 the opposite door. They paused and looked steadily 
 at each other, then nodded briefly. The crowd of 
 loungers glanced at the two men with instant curiosity 
 and then breathed easily. The man who was going to 
 marry Miss Thursdale and the man who wanted to 
 marry her were advancing to shake hands a trifle 
 awkwardly, perhaps, but more or less frankly. 
 
 " Rough weather for motoring," remarked Daunt- 
 less, nervously. Windomshire removed his cap and 
 goggles. 
 
 " Beastly. I just ran over for something to warm 
 the inside man. Won't you join me? " His voice 
 was pleasant to the ear, his manner easy and appeal- 
 ing. He was not so good looking as Dauntless, true, 
 but he had the air of a thoroughbred in his make-up 
 from head to foot.
 
 THE FLYERS 73 
 
 *' Sit down here," called Mrs. Scudaway readily, 
 creating a general shift of chairs. The two men 
 hesitated a moment, nervousness apparent in both, 
 and then sat down quickly. The Englishman was 
 next Mrs. Scudaway. " What were you doing out in 
 the rain? " she asked after the order for drinks had 
 been taken. 
 
 " Hurrying to get out of it," he said with evasive 
 good humour, " and thinking how much nicer your 
 fogs are than ours," he added quickly. 
 
 " Anybody come over with you ? " asked the bore, 
 agreeably. 
 
 " No, they're playing bridge over at Mrs. Thurs- 
 dale's and that lets me out. Beastly headache, too. 
 Got out for a breath of air." The silence that fol- 
 lowed this observation seemed to call for further ex- 
 planations. " Miss Thursdale retired soon after 
 dinner, wretchedly under the weather. That rather 
 left me adrift, don't you know. I'm not playing 
 bridge this year." 
 
 " You're not? Why not, pray? " 
 
 " Chiefly because of last year. My Mercedes came 
 on from New York yesterday and I got her out for 
 a spin. Couldn't resist, don't you know. She's work- 
 ing beautifully." 
 
 " There's one thing about a Mercedes that I don't 
 like and you don't find it in a Panhard. I've got a 
 Panhard and " Dobson was saying with all the 
 arrogance of a motor fiend, when Mrs. Scudaway 
 ruthlessly and properly cut him off. 
 
 "We know all about your Panhard, Dobby.
 
 74 THE FLYERS 
 
 Don't bother. Is Eleanor really ill, Mr. Windom- 
 shire? " 
 
 " I had it from her own lips, Mrs. Scudaway." 
 
 "Oh, you know what I mean. Is it likely to be 
 serious ? " 
 
 "Really, I can't say. I offered to go and fetch 
 the doctor in my car, but she assured me she'd be all 
 right in the morning. What say, Mr. Dauntless? " 
 
 " I didn't speak, Mr. Windomshire." 
 
 " I thought you did." More than one at the table 
 had heard Joe's involuntary chuckle. 
 
 "I say, Windomshire, what's the name of that 
 pretty governess over at Thursdale's? " asked the 
 busy bore. " Saw her this morning." 
 
 The Englishman looked down and necked the ashes 
 from his cigarette before answering. 
 
 " Miss Courtenay," he responded. 
 
 " She's a corking pretty girl." Windomshire 
 went through the unnecessary act of flecking ashes 
 again, but said nothing in reply. " Are there any 
 more at home like her? " with a fine chuckle in behalf 
 of his wit. 
 
 " She's of a very good family, I believe," said 
 Windomshire, looking about helplessly. Mrs. Scud- 
 away caught the look in his eyes and remembered 
 that English gentlemen are not supposed to discuss 
 women outside of their own set. 
 
 " It must be time for the 'bus," she said. " We're 
 all going in by the 10.10, Mr. Windomshire." 
 
 " Can't I take some of you over to the station in 
 my car?"
 
 THE FLYERS 75 
 
 " The 'bus is dryer, I think, thank you." She led 
 the way, and the other women followed her upstairs. 
 " We'll be down in time," she called. 
 
 "I'll take some of you men over in Hardy's 
 machine," volunteered Dauntless. " I've got it out 
 here this week, while he's east." 
 
 " Ain't you going in, Joe? " demanded Rolfe. 
 
 "Not to-night. I'm staying overnight with my 
 uncle in Cobberly Road." 
 
 " The 'bus is good enough for me. I haven't for- 
 gotten how you ran off the Peters Bridge last fall," 
 said Carter. 
 
 " Hang it, man, he wasn't thinking about bridges 
 that time," said the cheerful bore. " There was a 
 girl with him. Elea Ahem ! I say, old man, what 
 the devil time is it? Time for the confounded 'bus? 
 Don't want to miss the train." He had caught the 
 scowl of warning from Carter and, for a wonder, 
 understood. 
 
 " By the way," said Windomshire, irrelevantly, 
 " what was the disturbance over in O'Brien's Lane 
 this morning? Anybody hurt? I was driving the car 
 up Andrews' Hill when I saw the excitement. 
 Couldn't make it out. Were all of the horses running 
 away?" 
 
 " Running away ! " roared the blase man, for- 
 getting his pose for the first time. "Running 
 away ! " and he broke into a roar of laughter. 
 " Why, that was the advance guard of the Faraway 
 Country Club. Good Lord, did you see them coming 
 in?"
 
 76 THE FLYERS 
 
 " My word, they were coming in. But what was 
 the rush? I came over to-night to see if any of the 
 women had been hurt. I could have sworn the horses 
 were absolutely unmanageable. They were tearing 
 through bushes and taking fences they'd never seen 
 before. Egad, I give you my word, one of the women 
 took the fence at the south end of the golf course, 
 and she didn't turn out for the bunker at No. 7, 
 either. She took it like a bird, and straight across 
 the course she flew on a dead line for the home green. 
 What the deuce" 
 
 " Sh ! Windomshire, it will cost you your life if 
 she hears you. That was Mrs. Scudaway. You don't 
 know what happened, so I'll tell you. Half a dozen 
 of the women went out with us for a run over the 
 usual course. They are among our best and oldest 
 hunters, too. Well, they were keeping right up with 
 the men and having a splendid hunt, when all of a sud- 
 den a real, live fox dashed into view. By gad, sir, 
 he started a panic. They'd never seen one in their 
 lives, and they set up a howl that went clear to 
 heaven. And they started for home well, you saw 
 'em on the stretch. It was great ! There never has 
 been such riding in America. Mrs. Hooper lost her 
 hat in the woods, and Mrs. Graves lost part of her 
 habit coming through that break in the hedge over 
 there. That skinny Miss Elperson, who never before 
 has had nerve enough to jump her horse over the lawn 
 hose, cleared the wall that runs along O'Brien's mill, 
 nobody's ever done it before, and she came in 
 hanging to the horse's mane and yelling like a wild-
 
 THE FLYERS 77 
 
 cat. Gad, it was two hours before we got J em quiet 
 and sent 'em to town. They thought it was a tiger, 
 I understand, although some of them held out for the 
 lion and the hyena. Mrs. Scudaway was game enough 
 to stay and enjoy the laugh." 
 
 " What became of the fox? " demanded the Eng- 
 lishman, his eyes glistening. At that moment the 
 women came trooping down stairs ; the 'bus bell was 
 clanging sleepily. 
 
 "The fox? Oh er hanged if I know. I er " 
 
 " Were you riding? " 
 
 " Well er just a practice run, you know, old 
 man. Er I say, ladies, the 'bus waits ! " 
 
 Two minutes later the 'bus rolled away in the fog 
 and drizzle, leaving Dauntless and Windomshire alone 
 on the steps. 
 
 " Good-night," said the Englishman, after an awk- 
 ward silence. 
 
 " Good-night," was the response. Then, follow- 
 ing a brief pause, both started toward their cars. 
 The next minute they were chugging away in the 
 night and the lights in the clubhouse began to go 
 out. 
 
 Two hours later a stealthy figure crept across the 
 Thursdale lawn, lurking behind the rose beds and 
 lilac bushes, finally worming its way to a dripping 
 but secluded spot under the weather side of the house. 
 It was past twelve o'clock, but there were still lights in 
 the front part of the big summer-house. Quiet 
 reigned there, however; the noise of merry-mak- 
 ing came from the servants' quarters overlooking the
 
 78 THE FLYERS 
 
 ravine. A handful of gravel left an impatient hand 
 and rattled against the second-story window above. 
 Almost instantaneously the window was raised and a 
 head came forth. 
 
 "Joe? " came a shrill whisper from above. 
 
 "What's the matter? " whispered the man below. 
 " I've been waiting out there for two hours well, 
 half an hour, at least. Aren't you coming, dear?" 
 
 " I can't get out," came in a whispered wail. " I've 
 had my hat "on for hours, but " 
 
 " Why can't you get out? Good Lord, you just 
 must!" 
 
 " They're playing bridge in the front part of the 
 house and the servants are having a reunion in the 
 back. Oh, I've been nearly crazy. What are we to 
 do? Shall I jump?" 
 
 " Don't ! Is there no way to sneak out? " 
 
 " I'm afraid of being seen. It would give every- 
 thing away if any one saw me in this automobile rig- 
 ging at this time of night and in a rain like this, 
 too. Oh, dear, dear, I know I shall go mad ! You 
 poor darling, aren't you wet to the skin? I really 
 couldn't help it. I just couldn't be there at 11.30." 
 
 " We'll never make that train never in the world," 
 groaned Dauntless. " It's ten miles, and the road's 
 horrible all the way. By Jove, Nell, you must get 
 out some way. It's now or never. I've got every- 
 thing fixed." 
 
 " Oh, Joe listen ! Do you think you can get a 
 ladder out from under the verandah? The painters 
 left them there this morning. Look out for paint,
 
 THE FLYERS 79 
 
 dear. Don't make a noise not a sound. Mr. Win- 
 domshire's room is just over the porte cochere. For 
 Heaven's sake, don't arouse him." 
 
 " Drop your bag down first, dear, here ! I'll 
 catch it." 
 
 " I've got to put some things in it first. It isn't 
 quite ready," she gasped, darting away from the 
 window. 
 
 " 'Twas ever thus," he muttered in despair. Cau- 
 tiously he made his way to the end of the verandah. 
 A close listener might have heard him snarl " damn " 
 more than once as he tugged away at the painters' 
 ladders, which had been left there when the rain be- 
 gan. He was a good-natured chap, but barking his 
 knuckles, bumping his head, and banging his shins, 
 added to the misfortunes that had gone before, were 
 enough to demoralise a saint. He imagined that he 
 was making enough noise to rouse the neighbours for 
 blocks around. No time was to be lost in self-com- 
 miseration, however. He hurriedly dragged out a 
 ladder, which he managed to place against the win- 
 dow-sill without accident. 
 
 " Here it is," she whispered excitedly. The next 
 instant a heavy object dropped at his feet with a 
 crash. " Oh ! " she exclaimed with horror, " my per- 
 fume bottles ! " 
 
 "Good Lord!" he gasped. 
 
 " I thought you were going to catch it. Oh, here's 
 the ladder. Do you think I'll fall? Oh, oh ! " 
 
 " Don't be afraid. Climb out, dear and hurry ! " 
 
 She was brave enough in the crisis. While he held
 
 80 THE FLYERS 
 
 the bottom of the ladder she scrambled through the 
 window and hurried downward. Before she reached 
 the bottom he lifted her from the ladder in his strong 
 arms and held her close for a moment. 
 
 " Take the ladder down, dearest," she whispered 
 between kisses. "I don't want mother to know I 
 left that way not just yet, nor Mr. Windom- 
 shire, either." 
 
 " Come this way," he whispered, after replacing the 
 ladder. " I left the car just around the corner. 
 Come on, darling, and we'll soon be safe. Don't make 
 a noise ! " 
 
 " Goodness, isn't it dark ! What a horrid night ! 
 Oh, what's that?" 
 
 " Gad, I thought I heard something over there in 
 the croquet ground. Sounded like some one mix- 
 ing it up with a wicket. Quick ! Out this way ! " 
 He had her hand in his, and was rushing ruthlessly 
 through flower-beds toward the big gate, her travell- 
 ing bag banging against his knee with the insistence 
 of a hundredweight. 
 
 Panting and gasping for breath, they finally 
 floundered into the roadway, and dashed off through 
 the muddy surface toward the unseen automobile. 
 
 She was half fainting with the panic of excitement 
 as he started to lift her into the tonneau of the car. 
 "No, no! Please let me sit with you in the front 
 seat," she implored. She had her way, and a moment 
 later he was up beside her, both wrapped in the oil- 
 cloths, the drizzle blowing in their hot faces.
 
 THE FLYERS 81 
 
 "We're ofT, thank God!" he whispered joyously, 
 as the car leaped forward under his hand. 
 
 " I wonder oh, dear, how I wonder what mamma 
 will say," she was crying in his ear. 
 
 Dauntless grinned happily as the car shot onward 
 through the blackness of the night. Its lanterns were 
 dark and cold, but he knew the road.
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 THE FLYERS CATCH THE FLYEE 
 
 No one would have recognized either of them had 
 it been possible to see them, so carefully were their 
 heads swathed in their coverings. She was veiled 
 and he was goggled, and both of them scrooged down 
 in the seat apprehensively. Hardy's car, borrowed 
 in reality for the occasion, was performing nobly. It 
 careened through the muddy streets of the village 
 with a sturdiness that augured well for the enterprise. 
 Out into the country road, scudding northward, it 
 sped. Dauntless increased the speed, not to the limit, 
 on account of the fog and uncertainty of the road, 
 but enough to add new thrills to the girl who crouched 
 beside him. Neither spoke until they were far from 
 the town line ; the strain was too intense. 
 
 " What will everybody say ? " she finally cried in 
 his ear the most natural question in the world. 
 " And the newspapers? Oh, dear ! " 
 
 "You're not weakening, are you?" he cried. 
 "Shall I turn back?" 
 
 She was silent for half a mile. 
 
 " No," she replied at last, " I couldn't climb up 
 that ladder. And besides " with a gasp as the car 
 82
 
 THE FLYERS 83 
 
 shot over the railroad tracks, " we never could get 
 as good a start as this again." 
 
 " Bully for you ! " he shouted. 
 
 " How far is it to Fenlock, Joe? " she asked, a 
 quaver in her high-pitched voice. 
 
 "About seven miles. We'll take the short cut 
 through O'Brien's Lane and strike Cobberly Road 
 again at the crossroads. Then it will be easy going. 
 We'll catch the flyer all right, Nell. Everything's 
 arranged. You go into Car 5 and I in Car 7 " 
 
 " With a whole car between us ? Heavens ! " 
 
 " It's safest, dear. There might happen to be some 
 one on board who'd know us and suspect. Keep your 
 veil down until you get into the berth. There's not 
 much danger of any one being up at this time of night, 
 but don't take any chances." 
 
 " Goodness, isn't it thrilling ! And when do we get 
 to Omegon? " 
 
 " Little after seven in the morning. My cousin 
 will meet us in a hack and drive us straight to the 
 church. His wife will go with us as the extra witness. 
 By eight o'clock we'll be married. Derby will be on 
 the train with us. He's a full-fledged preacher now, 
 and he'll marry us without a whimper." 
 
 " Oh," she sighed deliciously, in spite of the jarring 
 of the motor, " isn't it nice to have old college chums 
 who can be depended upon? " 
 
 " Poor old Windomshire," he laughed in the buoy- 
 ancy of conquest. 
 
 I don't think he'll" She stopped. 
 
 "What?"
 
 84 THE FLYERS 
 
 " Care very much," she concluded. He laughed 
 doubtingly. 
 
 Mile after mile the car traversed the misty night, 
 jolting over the ruts in the lane, taking the hills 
 blindly driven entirely by the hand of Good Luck. 
 
 Suddenly the " honk, honk ! " of an invisible motor 
 struck upon their tense ears, the sound coming from 
 some point ahead in the black, narrow lane. Daunt- 
 less sat straight and peered ahead, sounding his horn 
 sharply. 
 
 " I hope no one is coming toward us," he groaned, 
 slowing up sharply. " We never can pass in this con- 
 founded lane. If we get off into the soft ground 
 Hello ! Here he comes and no lights either ! Hey ! 
 Look out ! " He brought his car to an abrupt stand- 
 still. 
 
 " Where are we, Joe? " she cried. 
 
 " Near the crossroads, I'm sure. Curse an idiot 
 that runs around without lights on a night like this," 
 he growled, forgetting that his own lamps were 
 dark. 
 
 Out of the misty blackness loomed another car, 
 directly ahead. It had come to a sudden stop not ten 
 feet away. Both cars were tooting their horns vici- 
 ously. 
 
 "Where are your lights?" roared Dauntless. 
 
 " Where are yours ? " came back angrily through 
 the fog. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " gasped Joe, panic-stricken. 
 
 " It's Mr. Windomshire," whispered Eleanor, in 
 consternation.
 
 THE FLYERS 85 
 
 Before she realised what was happening her com- 
 panion lifted her bodily over the back of the seat and 
 deposited her in the bed of the tonneau. 
 
 " Hide, dearest," he whispered. " Get under the 
 storm blankets. He must not see you! I'll I'll 
 bluff it out some way." 
 
 " Wha what is he doing out here in a machine ? " 
 she was whispering wildly. " He is pursuing us ! 
 He has found out ! " 
 
 In the other car Windomshire for it was the tall 
 Englishman was hoarsely whispering to some one 
 beside him : 
 
 " It's Dauntless ! Hang him ! What's he doing 
 here? " Then followed a hurried scuffling and sub- 
 dued whispers. A long silence, fraught with an im- 
 portance which the throbbing of the two engines was 
 powerless to disturb, followed the mutual dis- 
 covery. Joe's brain worked the quicker. Disguising 
 his voice as best he could, he shouted through the 
 fog: 
 
 " We can't pass here." 
 
 " Is is this Cobberly Road? " cried Windomshire, 
 striving to obtain what he considered the American 
 twang. 
 
 " No, it's not. It's O'Brien's Lane." Then, after 
 a long silence, " Can't you back out? " 
 
 " It's rather I mean sorter risky, mister. I don't 
 know how far I'd have to back, doncherknow er, 
 ahem ! " 
 
 " The crossroads can't be more than a hundred 
 yards behind you. Where are you going? "
 
 86 THE FLYERS 
 
 " I'm going for a doctor," called Windomshire^. 
 hastily. 
 
 " Well, then, we ought not to stand here all night," 
 groaned Joe, his ears open to catch the sound of the 
 locomotive's whistle. There was no time to be lost. 
 
 " I'll I'll try to back her out," shouted Windom- 
 shire. Eleanor whispered something shrilly and anx- 
 iously from the tonneau, and Joe called out instantly : 
 
 "Who is ill?" 
 
 " Mrs. Mrs. Smith," replied the other, bravely. 
 
 " Good ! " exclaimed Dauntless, heartily. Win- 
 domshire was not in the least annoyed by the lack of 
 sympathy. He began to drive his car backward by 
 jerks and jolts, blindly trusting to luck in the effort 
 to reach the road which he had passed in his haste a 
 few minutes before. Joe was shouting encouragement 
 and pushing slowly forward in his own machine. The 
 noise of the engines was deafening. 
 
 " Hang it all, man, don't blow your horn like 
 that ! " roared Windomshire at last, harassed and full 
 of dread. Joe, in his abstraction, was sounding his 
 siren in a most insulting manner. 
 
 At last Windomshire's wheels struck a surface that 
 seemed hard and resisting. He gave a shout of joy. 
 
 " Here we are ! It's macadam ! " 
 
 " Cobberly Road," cried Joe. " Back off to the 
 right and let me run in ahead. I'm I'm in a devil of 
 a hurry." 
 
 " By Gad, sir, so am I. Hi, hold back there ! 
 Look out where you're going, confound you ! " 
 
 " Now for it," cried Joe to Eleanor. " We've got
 
 THE FLYERS 87 
 
 the lead ; I'll bet a bun he can't catch us." He had 
 deliberately driven across the other's bows, as it were, 
 scraping the wheel, and was off over Cobberly Road 
 like the wind. " Turn to your right at the next cross- 
 ing," he shouted back to Windomshire. Then to him- 
 self hopefully: "If he does that, he'll miss Fenlock 
 by three miles." 
 
 They had covered two rash, terrifying miles before 
 a word was spoken. Then he heard her voice in his 
 ear an anxious, troubled voice that could scarcely be 
 heard above the rushing wind. 
 
 " What will we do if the train is late, dear? He'll 
 be be sure to catch us." 
 
 " She's never late. Besides, what if he does catch 
 us? We don't have to go back, do we? You're of 
 age. Brace up ; be a man ! " he called back encourag- 
 ingly. 
 
 " There are too many men as it is," she wailed, 
 sinking back into the tonneau. 
 
 " Here we are ! " he shouted, as the car whizzed 
 into a murky, dimly lighted street on the edge of 
 Fenlock, the county seat. "There are the station 
 lights just ahead." 
 
 " Is the train in ? " she cried, struggling to her feet 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I think not." He was slowing down. A moment 
 later the throbbing car came to a stop beside the 
 railway station platform. The lights blinked fee- 
 bly through the mist ; far off in the night arose the 
 faint toot of a locomotive's whistle. 
 
 " We're just in time," he cried. " She's coming.
 
 88 THE FLYERS 
 
 Quick!" He lifted her bodily over the side of the 
 car, jerked two suitcases from beneath the curtains, 
 and rushed frantically to the shelter of the platform 
 sheds. 
 
 " I'll leave you here, dear," he was saying rapidly. 
 "Wait a second; there is your railroad ticket and 
 your drawing-room ticket, too. I'll wake Derby 
 when I get on board. I have to run the automobile 
 down to Henry's garage first. Won't take ten sec- 
 onds. Don't worry. The train won't be here for 
 three or four minutes. Get on board and go to sleep. 
 I'll be two cars ahead." 
 
 " Oh, Joe, won't I see you again before we start? " 
 she cried despairingly. 
 
 " I'll be back in a minute. It's only half a block 
 to Henry's. All I have to do is to leave the car in 
 front of his place. His men will look after it. It's 
 all understood, dearest ; don't worry. I'll be here be- 
 fore the train, never fear. Stand here in the shadow, 
 dear." He gave her what might have been a passion- 
 ate kiss had it not been for the intervention of veil 
 and goggles. Then he was off to the motor, his heart 
 thumping frantically. Standing as stiff and motion- 
 less as a statue against the damp brick wall, she heard 
 the automobile leap away and go pounding down the 
 street. Apparently she was alone on the platform; 
 the ticking of telegraph instruments came to her 
 anxious ears, however, and she knew there were living 
 people inside the long, low building. The experience 
 certainly was new to this tall, carefully nurtured girl. 
 Never before had she been left alone at such an hour
 
 THE FLYERS 89 
 
 and place; it goes without saying that the circum- 
 stances were unique. Here she was, standing alone in 
 the most wretched of nights, her heart throbbing with 
 a dozen emotions, her eyes and ears labouring in a 
 new and thrilling enterprise, her whole life poised on 
 the social dividing line. She was running away to 
 marry the man she had loved for years ; slipping 
 away from the knot that ambition was trying to 
 throw over her rebellious head. If she had any 
 thought of the past or the future, however, it was lost 
 among the fears and anxieties of the present. Her 
 soul was crying out for the approach of two objects 
 Joe Dauntless and the north-bound flyer. 
 
 Her sharp ears caught the sound which told her 
 that the motor had stopped down the street ; it was a 
 welcome sound, for it meant that he was racing back 
 to the station and just in time, too ; the flyer was 
 pounding the rails less than half a mile away. 
 
 Fenlock was a division point in the railroad. The 
 company's yards and the train despatcher's office 
 were located there. A huge round-house stood off 
 to the right ; half a dozen big headlights glared out 
 at the shivering Eleanor like so many spying, accus- 
 ing eyes. She knew that all trains stopped in Fen- 
 lock. Joe had told her that the flyer's pause was 
 the briefest of any during the day or night ; still she 
 wondered if it would go thundering through and 
 spoil everything. 
 
 Miss Thursdale, watching the approaching head- 
 light, her ears filled with the din of the wheels, did not 
 see or hear a second motor car rush up to the extreme
 
 90 , THE FLYERS 
 
 south end of the platform. She was not thinking of 
 Windomshire or his machine. That is why she failed 
 to witness an extraordinary incident. 
 
 As the driver leaped from the car a second man 
 disconnected himself from the shadows, paused for a 
 moment to take orders from the new arrival, and then 
 jumped into the seat just vacated. Whereupon the 
 one-time driver performed precisely the same feat 
 that Dauntless had performed three minutes before 
 him. He jerked forth a couple of bags and then pro- 
 ceeded to lift from the tonneau of the car a vague 
 but animate something, which, an instant later, re- 
 solved itself into the form of a woman at his side. 
 
 " I've settled with the company, Meaders," hur- 
 riedly announced Windomshire to the man on the 
 seat. " The car is in your hands now." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I understand. Your week is up to- 
 night. Hope it was satisfactory, sir." The car 
 shot off in the night, almost running down a man 
 who scudded across the street in its path. 
 
 "Just in time, Anne," said Windomshire to the 
 tall, hooded figure beside him. " Thank God, we 
 didn't miss it." 
 
 " Hasn't it been good sport, Harry ? " cried the 
 young woman, with an unmistakably English inflec- 
 tion. " It's just like a book." 
 
 " Only more so," he observed. " This has really 
 happened, you know. Things never really happen in 
 books, don't you know. You've not lost your tickets, 
 dear? " 
 
 "No; they do that only in books. Really, I'm
 
 THE FLYERS 91 
 
 trembling like a leaf. I can't realise that it is all 
 taking place as we planned, and that I am to be your 
 wife after all. Ah, Harry ! isn't it splendid? " 
 
 " 'Gad, little woman, I am the one who hasn't the 
 right to realise. By Jove, I didn't give myself credit 
 for the cleverness to fool every one so neatly. Really, 
 don't you know, however, I feel a bit sorry for Miss 
 Thursdale. She's a ripping good sort, and I'm sorry 
 on that account." 
 
 Miss Courtenay erstwhile governess took hold 
 of the lapels of his raincoat and looked seriously up 
 into his face. " Are you sure you'll never regret giv- 
 ing her up for me with all her money? " 
 
 " Oh, I say, Anne dear, it's I who am running 
 away, not you. I've always wanted you all my life. 
 I've been something of a cad " 
 
 " It wasn't your fault. Mrs. Thursdale was bound 
 to have yon. It's her way." 
 
 " It hurts my pride to say it, but hanged if I think 
 er Eleanor was very strong for the match. I've 
 a notion she was bullied into it." 
 
 " I'm quite sure of it." 
 
 " You're doing her a good turn, my dear. You 
 see, I couldn't love her, and I'd probably have beaten 
 her and all that. It wasn't as if I had to marry her 
 for her money. Deuce take it, I've got a few pounds 
 of my own." 
 
 " I'm only Anne Courtenay, the governess." 
 
 " You'll be Lady Windomshire some day, my word 
 for it if the other chaps manage to die, God bless
 
 92 THE FLYERS 
 
 'em. I say, here's the train. Good-night, dear, up 
 you go ! I'll go up ahead. Don't forget ! The wed- 
 ding's at noon to-morrow." 
 
 The long, shadowy train came to a stop. He el- 
 bowed the porter aside and helped her up the steps. 
 Neither of them noticed the vague figure which rushed 
 across the platform and into the second car below. 
 
 " Where's the luggage car? " shouted Windomshire 
 to the porter. 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 ** I mean the baggage van." 
 
 " Way up front, sir. Where they're puttin' on the 
 trunks, sir." 
 
 Swinging his travelling bag almost at arm's length, 
 the long Englishman raced forward. His own and 
 Miss Courtenay's pieces had come over during the 
 afternoon, skilfully smuggled out of the Thursdale 
 house. Just as he reached the baggage truck a pant- 
 ing, mud-covered individual dashed up from the op- 
 posite direction, madly rushing for the train. They 
 tried to avoid a collision, but failed. A second later 
 the two men were staring into each other's eyes, open- 
 mouthed and dismayed. 
 
 " Hello ! " gasped Dauntless, staggered. 
 
 " What the devil, sir, do My word! It's Daunt- 
 less ! " sputtered Windomshire. 
 
 " Where is she? " shouted Joe, convinced that his 
 rival had captured his runaway fiancee and was now 
 confronting him for explanation. 
 
 " Confound you, sir, it's none of your business,"
 
 THE FLYERS 93 
 
 roared Windomshire, confident that Dauntless had 
 been sent by Mrs. Thursdale to intercept him in his 
 flight with the governess. " Damn your impu- 
 dence ! " 
 
 " Stand aside, Windomshire," exclaimed Joe, 
 white with anger and dread. " I'm going to find her. 
 What have you done with her? " 
 
 " You sha'n't interfere, Dauntless," cried Windom- 
 shire, squaring himself. " She's going to be my wife, 
 and" 
 
 " I guess not! Get out of my way, or " 
 
 " She's on that train, confound you, and I'm going 
 away with her whether you like it or not or any- 
 body else, for that matter," said Windomshire, refus- 
 ing to budge an inch. 
 
 *' Well, you'll have a damned hard time getting rid 
 of me," roared Joe, trying to break past his rival. 
 A baggage-man leaped between them in time to pre- 
 vent blows. He held the angry, mistaken rivals apart, 
 rivals no longer, if they only knew. " Let go of 
 me! Hold this fellow and I'll give you a hundred 
 dollars hold him till the train goes ! " 
 
 "Hold me, will you? My word! What is this? 
 A highway robbery ! " 
 
 Both men broke away from the baggage-man and 
 rushed frantically down the line of cars, each trying 
 to hold the other back. Joe succeeded in grasping the 
 handrail of the first sleeping-car, but his adversary 
 pulled him away. An instant later they were strug- 
 gling across the station platform, clasped in savage 
 and hysterical combat. The station employees were
 
 94. THE FLYERS 
 
 rushing up to separate them when the train began 
 to move slowly away. 
 
 They came to their senses a moment later to find 
 themselves held firmly by brawny peacemakers, the 
 black cars rushing swiftly by without them. 
 
 Forgetting the battle so inopportunely begun, they 
 started off madly in pursuit, shouting, yelling, com- 
 manding. But the flyer was deaf to their cries, cal- 
 lous against their tears. It whistled off into the 
 north, carrying two trusting, nervous young women, 
 who were secure in the belief that their liege lords 
 to be were aboard, utterly unconscious of the true 
 state of affairs. In the drawing-room of Car 5 
 Eleanor was still sitting, with her veil down, her rain- 
 coat saturating the couch on which she sat stiff and 
 silent. Anne Courtenay in Car 7 was philosophically 
 preparing for bed, absolutely confident that the Eng- 
 lishman she had loved for years was not going to fail 
 her. 
 
 Windomshire, alas, came to grief in his useless 
 pursuit. He fell off the end of the platform and 
 rolled in the mud, half stunned. When he painfully 
 picked himself up, he saw Dauntless sitting on the 
 edge of the walk, his haggard, staring face lighted 
 by the glare of a sympathetic lantern. The station 
 agent was offering vain but well-intended commisera- 
 tion. 
 
 " Good God ! " he heard Joe groan, but he did not 
 catch the words, " she's gone without me ! " 
 
 The next instant the distracted eloper was on his 
 feet demanding a special engine.
 
 THE FLYERS 95 
 
 " I've got to have it ! " he shouted. 
 
 Windomshire's wits returned. Why not have a 
 special too? It was the only way. 
 
 " You can order one for me, too," he exclaimed. 
 " At once. It's imperative."
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 THE MORNING AFTER 
 
 The sun was peeping over the hilltops and shoot- 
 ing his merry glance across the rainsoaked lowlands 
 when Eleanor Thursdale awoke from her final snatch 
 of slumber. A hundred feverish lapses into restless 
 subconsciousness had marked the passage of nearly as 
 many miles of clatter and turmoil. Never before had 
 she known a train to be so noisy ; never before had she 
 lain awake long enough to make the natural discovery. 
 It seemed hours before she dropped off in the first 
 surrender to sleep; it seemed hours between the suc- 
 ceeding falls. Her brain and heart were waging the 
 most relentless battle against peace and security. 
 She knew Joe Dauntless was but two cars ahead, and 
 yet she wondered if he were really there ; she wondered 
 and was troubled oh, so troubled. 
 
 Daylight was creeping in beneath the curtain of 
 the window. She stretched her fine, tired young body, 
 and for the first time really felt like going to sleep. 
 The perversity of early morning! Gradually it 
 dawned upon her that the train was not moving; as 
 far back as she could recall in her now wakeful spell 
 it occurred to her that the cars had been standing 
 96
 
 THE FLYERS 97 
 
 still and that everything was as quiet as death. She 
 looked at her watch ; it was six o'clock. 
 
 " Goodness ! " she thought, sitting up suddenly, 
 "what is the matter?" The curtain flew up and 
 her startled eyes blinked out upon the glaring 
 world. 
 
 There was not a house in sight as far as her eyes 
 could range forward and behind. Instead, a wide 
 sweep of farm lands partially submerged by the flood 
 water of many rains. Far away there were brown 
 hills and a long army of tall trees standing at atten- 
 tion, a bleak prospect despite the cheery intentions 
 of the sun, which lurked behind the hills. Despondent 
 cornstalks of last year's growth stood guard over the 
 soggy fields ; drenched, unhappy tufts of grass, and 
 forlorn but triumphant reeds arose here and there 
 from the watery wastes, asserting their victory over 
 a dismantled winter. It was not a glorious view that 
 met the gaze of the bride on her wedding morn. 
 
 Strangest of all, the train was so quiet, so utterly 
 inactive, that an absurd feeling of loneliness grew 
 upon her, gradually developing into the alarming cer- 
 tainty that she was the only living person in the world, 
 then she heard men's voices outside of the window; 
 her relief was almost hysterical. Scrambling out of 
 the berth, she began a hasty, nervous toilet. Three 
 sharp pushes on the button brought the company's 
 ladies' maid advertised as a part of the luxury and 
 refinement which made the flyer " the finest train in 
 the world." 
 
 " What has happened? Where are we? " she de-
 
 98 THE FLYERS 
 
 manded, upon the entrance of the sleepy young col- 
 oured woman. 
 
 " The Pride River bridge is washed away, ma'am," 
 said the maid. " We can't go on no furder." 
 
 " Dear me," sighed Eleanor, turning to be but- 
 toned at the back. " And where is Pride River bridge 
 or where was it, I mean? " 
 
 " 'Bout twenty mile south of Omegon, ma'am 
 miss. The river's a sight highest 'at it's ever been 
 known. It's all over the bottoms. This here train 
 came mighty nigh running into it, too. A boy 
 flagged it just in time, 'bout five o'clock." 
 
 " Have we been standing here a whole hour ? " 
 
 " Yes, miss ; right here. They say we can't go back 
 till the section boss has examined the track in Bax- 
 ter's Cut. Seems as though there's some danger of a 
 washout back yander." 
 
 " Do you mean to say we are likely to stay here 
 indefinitely? " gasped Eleanor. " Ouch ! Be careful, 
 please ! " 
 
 " Oh, it won't be long. The porter says they've 
 sent back over the line to telegraft for the section 
 men." 
 
 " Good Heavens, is there no station here? " 
 
 " No, ma'am ; five miles back. They's one jest 
 across the river, but it might as well be in Africa." 
 
 " Be quick, please, and then send the conductor to 
 me and the porter too," urged Eleanor, in distress. 
 
 The porter was the first to arrive. 
 
 " Porter, will you go to Car 7 and see if the oc- 
 cupant of lower 4 is awake? I am quite sure that is
 
 THE FLYERS 99 
 
 right, but if it should happen to be wrong, please let 
 me know at once." 
 
 " Yes, miss ; and what shall I tell her? " 
 
 "Ahem! It's a a gentleman. Ask him to to 
 come to the rear end of the train. That's all. Oh, 
 conductor, how soon will we be on the track again? " 
 The conductor was standing in the door, evidently im- 
 pressed by the summons from the drawing-room. 
 
 " We're not off the track, madam. There is no 
 danger just a little delay. I have telegraphed to 
 see if I can have a relief train come down from 
 Omegon and pick us up after we've been ferried 
 across the river." 
 
 " This is the very worst road I've ever travelled 
 over the very worst," was Eleanor's natural com- 
 plaint. " When will that get us to Omegon? " 
 
 " We should be there in an hour after leaving here." 
 
 " And when did you say we'd leave here? " 
 
 " I didn't say. I don't know." 
 
 " Who does know, if you don't? " demanded Elea- 
 nor. 
 
 " God, I presume," observed the harassed conduc- 
 tor, turning away with the realisation that he had 
 erred in coming to her in the first place. The porter 
 returned at the moment. 
 
 " Nobody in that section, ma'am. It was sold, but 
 the party didn't show up." 
 
 " Good Heavens, you but he did show up. I I 
 know he did. Look again. Try but wait ! Ask for 
 Mr. Dauntless. Ask quietly, please." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am."
 
 100 THE FLYERS 
 
 Her nerves at highest tension, Miss Thursdale 
 made her way toward the rear platform of the train. 
 She passed down the curtained aisles of two coaches, 
 wondering how people could sleep so soundly in a 
 crisis like this. A porter politely opened a door and 
 she slipped out upon the last platform. As far as the 
 eye could reach stretched the roadbed and its tele- 
 graph poles, finally disappearing in the haze of the 
 morning. Wide-spread flood, soaking the flat 
 
 A sharp cry of amazement came from the track 
 just below her. She looked down and into the eyes 
 of Anne Courtenay, the governess. For a full minute 
 they stared blankly at each other, apparently bereft 
 of all the agencies that fall to the lot of woman. 
 
 " Miss Courtenay ! " finally came from the lips of 
 the girl on the platform. 
 
 " Miss Thursdale! " murmured Anne, reaching out 
 to support herself against the bumper. Other words 
 failed to come for the time being. In sheer despair, 
 neither could accomplish more than a pallid smile. 
 To the reader is left the privilege of analysing the 
 thoughts which surged through the brains of the be- 
 wildered young women, the fears, the doubts, the 
 resentments. 
 
 " Where where have you been? " at last fell from 
 Miss Thursday's lips. 
 
 "Been?" repeated Miss Courtenay, vaguely. 
 " Oh, yes ; I've been taking a walk a constitutional. 
 I always do." 
 
 Eleanor stared harder than ever. " All this dis- 
 tance? " she murmured.
 
 THE FLYERS 101 
 
 " Down the track for half a mile, Miss Thursdale." 
 
 "Are were you on this train? " ejaculated Elea- 
 nor. 
 
 " Yes but I I " stammered Anne, her face 
 growing red with rising resentment. " I did not think 
 this of you." 
 
 " What do you mean? It is May I ask why 
 you are here, Miss Courtenay? It is most extra- 
 ordinary." 
 
 " It is very easily explained," said Miss Cour- 
 tenay, after a moment's battle with veracity. " My 
 aunt is very ill in Vancouver." To herself she was 
 saying : " I must keep her from really seeing Harry. 
 She knows what he has done in heaven's name, how 
 could she have found it out? and she is waiting to 
 catch us if she can. She has followed us! Thank 
 goodness, I've seen her first." 
 
 Eleanor was not blessed with the possibility of such 
 an explanation for Anne's presence; she could only 
 believe that the governess had been suddenly called to 
 the bedside of her aunt a real person, she happened 
 to know, and very rich. But how was she to account 
 for her own astonishing departure from home? Miss 
 Courtenay had seen her at dinner; nothing had been 
 said regarding " an unexpected journey." In truth, 
 Eleanor remembered with inflexible accuracy that she 
 had announced her intention to go to bed with a head- 
 ache. Then, what must Miss Courtenay be thinking 
 at this very instant? 
 
 An inspiration came to her like a flash. " I I am
 
 102 THE FLYERS 
 
 running away, Miss Courtenay," she cried, with a 
 brave attempt to appear naive. 
 
 " I don't understand," murmured poor Anne. 
 
 " Of course you don't," said Eleanor, inspiration 
 heaping itself up within her. " Not really, you know, 
 but just for a few days' rest. Mother thinks I'm look- 
 ing wretchedly. We didn't say anything about it 
 except to Mr. Windomshire, of course. He knows. 
 Perhaps he will run up to Omegon in a day or two to 
 see me. It's very quiet there, and I'll get a good rest. 
 The hotel is delightful facing the lake. And the 
 bathing's good. Dear me, I'm so sorry about your 
 aunt." Miss Courtenay's eyes actually blinked with 
 perplexity. This was a most staggering bit of news. 
 Eleanor flushed painfully under the gaze of the other ; 
 utter rout followed. She stammered some flimsy ex- 
 cuse and dashed back into the car. To herself she was 
 crying : " I must find Joe and tell him to keep out 
 of sight. Oh, how awful this is ! " 
 
 Just inside the door she met her porter. 
 
 " There's nobody named Dauntless on the train, 
 miss. A gentleman who said he was his friend thinks 
 he missed the train perhaps." 
 
 " He he oh, I see ! " said Eleanor, suddenly per- 
 ceiving method in Joe's reluctance to answer to his 
 own name. " Thank you. That's all." Then to her- 
 self : " He has seen Miss Courtenay, and she hasn't 
 seen him, that's plain." She handed the porter a 
 coin. 
 
 " I went to the berth you mentioned, ma'am, and 
 I asked through the curtains : * Is Mr. Dauntless in
 
 THE FLYERS 103 
 
 here?' There was a lady in the upper, miss, an' 
 an' well, I'll never forget what she said to me." 
 Eleanor had gone before he concluded, determined to 
 unearth her cautious lover, if possible. 
 
 Anne caught the porter before he could follow. 
 
 " See here, porter," she whisperd softly, " go to 
 Car 5, section 6, and call its occupant. Tell him not 
 to get up. Do you understand ? Not to get up ! " 
 
 It goes without saying, of course, that all efforts, 
 secret or otherwise, failed to locate the missing men. 
 The distracted brides, each trying to run away from 
 the other in a way, were in a state of collapse, 
 necessarily subdued but most alarming. The Rev. 
 Henry Derby, a nice-looking young fellow, who looked 
 more like a tennis player than a minister of the gos- 
 pel, eventually identified his old friend's ladye faire, 
 and introduced himself with a discreetness that proved 
 him to have been in college at the proper period and 
 in a somewhat different class from that which he now 
 sought to lead. In the privacy of her drawing-room 
 the bewitching but distressed young woman discussed 
 the situation with the man who had been chosen to 
 perform the clandestine ceremony in the far-away 
 town of Omegon. Derby, coming on from his eastern 
 home in loyal acquiescence to his friend's request, had 
 designedly taken this train, it being understood that 
 Dauntless would board it at Fenlock with his fair 
 conspirator. We all know why Dauntless failed to 
 perform his part of the agreement ; Derby, with the 
 perspicuity of a college man, finally advanced a rea- 
 son for his inexplicable failure to appear. Eleanor
 
 104 THE FLYERS 
 
 had begun tearfully to accuse him of abandoning 
 her at the last moment; Mr. Derby indignantly 
 scouted the idea. When she related their chase in the 
 motor and their escape from Windomshire, he formed 
 his conclusions, and they were in the main remark- 
 ably correct. 
 
 "I'm afraid, Miss Thursdale, that your disap- 
 pointed lover, our ancient enemy, the Englishman, 
 was not to be overcome so neatly. Has it occurred to 
 you that he may have reached Fenlock before the 
 train left, and that he is the explanation for Joe's 
 non-appearance? " 
 
 " You you don't mean that he has killed " she 
 was gasping, growing whiter and whiter. He has- 
 tened to reassure her. 
 
 " Oh, no ; not so bad as that. But is it possible 
 and quite probable that he if, as you say, he was 
 on to your I should say, aware of your flight, it 
 is probable that he succeeded in detaining Joe in Fen- 
 lock. That would " 
 
 " Impossible ! Joe wouldn't let him ! " she cried 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Perhaps Joe couldn't help himself. Such things 
 happen. At any rate, you'll understand, the des- 
 pised enemy could have " 
 
 " Mr. Windomshire is not a despised enemy. He's 
 a very nice man, Mr. Derby," she interrupted. 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Thursdale. What I meant to 
 say was, that he was morally sure of preventing the 
 wedding if he could only keep you far enough apart. 
 Now that is probably what he has done. You can't
 
 THE FLYERS 105 
 
 marry Joe in Omegon or anywhere else unless he is 
 there and not in Fenlock." 
 
 " I see. Well, I'll go back to Fenlock ! " she ex- 
 claimed emphatically, a little line of determination 
 and stubbornness settling about the erstwhile trem- 
 bling lips. 
 
 " I admire your loyalty," he said warmly. " Just 
 at present, however, we are water-bound here, and 
 we've got to make the best of it. I fancy Joe will 
 telegraph before long." 
 
 If if he hasn't been hurt. Oh, Mr. Derby, they 
 may have fought. It would be just like them. It 
 may be dreadfully serious. You don't know as much 
 about men as I do. They're terribly " 
 
 " Please don't worry, Miss Thursdale," he said, 
 smiling in recollection of his football days. " You'll 
 find there's been nothing bloody about all this. The 
 delay is vexatious, but only temporary, I'm sure." 
 
 " I'll marry Joe Dauntless now if it has to be de- 
 layed a hundred years," she cried, her eyes flashing. 
 
 During the next half-hour poor Derby ran errands, 
 carried messages and complaints to every one of the 
 train men, finally administering smelling salts when 
 it occurred to Eleanor that Joe might have fallen off 
 the train during the night. 
 
 In the meantime Anne Courtenay was having a 
 sad half-hour of it. She had no one to turn to, no 
 one to think it all out for her; she was alone and in 
 great despair. The porter had failed to find the tall 
 Englishman ; the conductor had been equally unsuc- 
 cessful ; she herself had searched in vain. His trunks
 
 106 THE FLYERS 
 
 and hers were in the baggage car, she found, but 
 there was no sign of the man himself. She was a self- 
 reliant, sensible young woman, accustomed to the 
 rigours of the world, but this was quite too over- 
 whelming. The presence on the train of the girl that 
 she had, to all intents and purposes, cruelly deceived, 
 did not add to her comfort. As a matter of fact, she 
 was quite fond of Eleanor; they were warm friends 
 despite the vagaries of love. Miss Courtenay, among 
 other things, began to wonder, as she sat in her tum- 
 bled berth, if retribution had more to do with this 
 than chance. 
 
 " Could he have fallen off the train? " she wondered, 
 with a sudden chill of apprehension. The next in- 
 stant she was calling to the porter. " Send the con- 
 ductor to me at once. My friend has fallen off the 
 train out of his window, perhaps. I am quite sure 
 of it. I want an engine to go back and look for him. 
 Hurry, please ! don't stand there grinning." 
 
 The Pullman conductor came up at that moment. 
 
 " Are you the young lady who was asking for Mr. 
 Dauntless? " he asked. 
 
 " Dauntless ? " she murmured. " No, I'm asking 
 for an engine. Have you " 
 
 " There's another young lady asking for an engine, 
 too, madam. It's impossible." 
 
 " Am I to understand that I shall have to walk? 
 Oh," with a sudden start, " is is there a Mr. Daunt- 
 less missing too? " 
 
 " Seems so. He's gone." 
 
 Anne dropped the curtains in his face, and then
 
 THE FLYERS 107 
 
 stared at them for a long time. Gradually she began 
 to comprehend. A panic of fear came over her. 
 
 " They have met somewhere and quarrelled ! Mr. 
 Dauntless was jealous terribly so. He may have 
 good Heavens ! he may have killed him in the mis- 
 taken idea that Harry was running away with 
 Eleanor. She's on this train ! It's perfectly natural, 
 Porter," she called, " there has been foul play ! " 
 
 " Gee, miss ! That's what the other lady is say- 
 ing!" 
 
 " The other then it is a double murder ! Don't 
 laugh! It's it's " 
 
 " Don't cry, miss ; it's all right." She looked at 
 him piteously for a moment, and then smiled at the 
 absurdity of her conjecture. 
 
 A tousled head came from between the curtains of 
 the upper berth opposite, and a sleepy, hoarse voice 
 demanded : 
 
 " How long will we be here? What's the latest? " 
 
 " We're on time, sah," replied the porter, from 
 sheer force of habit. 
 
 " The devil we are ! Say, I've got to be in Omegon 
 by ten o'clock. I'll sue this infernal road," snarled 
 the irascible party, snapping the curtains together. 
 It transpired that he was an agent for a medical 
 college, travelling to Omegon on a most unwholesome 
 but edifying mission. He was going up to take pos- 
 session of the body of a man who had willed his 
 carcass to the school. As the poor chap was not yet 
 dead, but hopelessly ill, the desire for haste on the 
 part of the agent may be misunderstood. It seems,
 
 108 THE FLYERS 
 
 part of the agent may be misunderstood. It seems, 
 however, that there was some talk of interference by 
 relatives and the disquieting prospect of a new will. 
 
 " If I were you, miss," counselled the porter, " I'd 
 go out and take a little walk. The sun is up, an' it's 
 fine. The relief train will be here 'fore long an' you 
 all will be rowed acrost the river. Don't worry." 
 
 " But I want to go back the way I came," expostu- 
 lated Anne, feebly. " I can't go on without until I 
 know what has happened to to Mr. Windomshire." 
 She took his advice, however, and made her way to the 
 rear platform. 
 
 A number of disgruntled passengers were now 
 aboard, and complaining bitterly of the delay. There 
 was no hope of breakfast until the train reached 
 Omegon, where a dining car was waiting. She stood 
 on the platform and looked gloomily back over the 
 long stretch of roadbed. 
 
 " Isn't that an engine coming? " some one asked 
 excitedly at her side. She turned and found Miss 
 Thursdale, attended by a gentleman, to whom the 
 question was addressed. 
 
 " I believe yes, it is, Miss Thursdale." 
 
 " Then then we'll all be taken back to the city," 
 she said dejectedly. 
 
 " I fancy not. It's probably bringing relief." 
 
 " They they may be bringing bad news," Eleanor 
 groaned. "Oh, Miss Courtenay, how do you do 
 again? How is your your grandmother, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 " I I yes, I think so I mean, I think she's no
 
 THE FLYERS 109 
 
 better. They may be bringing his body ! " said the 
 other girl, her eyes fixed on the distant locomotive. 
 
 " Oh ! " almost screamed Eleanor, and stared wildly 
 without words. 
 
 A brakeman far down the track was flagging the 
 locomotive ; it came to a stop, and several men were 
 seen climbing down from the cab. Two of them even- 
 tually disengaged themselves from the little group 
 and hurried forward. One was carrying a suit- 
 case, and both walked as though they were either in 
 pain or attended by extreme old age. 
 
 " Why why " gasped Eleanor, " it's Joe ! " 
 
 " And yes, thank God, it's Har Mr. Windom- 
 shire," almost shrieked Anne. 
 
 Then they turned and looked at each other in con- 
 fusion. Neither had the courage to carry out the 
 desire to fly to the arms of the man she longed to see 
 more than all else in the world. They felt themselves 
 to be caught red-handed.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MRS. VAN TRUDER INTRUDES 
 
 None but the most eager, loving eyes could pos- 
 sibly have recognised the newcomers. It is not un- 
 likely that the remaining passengers mistook them 
 for tramps. The rivals, morbidly suspicious of each 
 other, taciturn to the point of unfriendliness, had 
 indeed chartered a locomotive not jointly by inten- 
 tion, but because of provoking necessity. There was 
 but one engine to be had. It is safe to say that while 
 they travelled many sore and turbulent miles in close 
 proximity to each other, neither felt called upon to 
 offer or to demand an explanation. 
 
 Five hours in the tender of an engine had done 
 much to reduce them to the level of the men in the 
 cab, so far as personal appearance was concerned. 
 They were still wearing their raincoats, much 
 crumpled and discoloured; their faces were covered 
 with coal dust ; they were wet, bedraggled, and humble 
 to the last degree. The American, naturally, was 
 the one who clung to his suit-case ; he had foreseen the 
 need for a change of linen. They came toward the 
 train with hesitating, uncertain steps. If their souls 
 were gladdened by the sight of the two young women, 
 general appearances failed to make record of it. It 
 110
 
 THE FLYERS 111 
 
 was noted by those who watched their approach that 
 once both of them stopped short and seemed to 
 waver in their determination to advance. That was 
 when each became suddenly aware of the presence 
 of an unexpected girl. Naturally, the Englishman 
 was seriously staggered. The unexplained Eleanor 
 appeared before his very eyes as an accusing nemesis ; 
 it is no wonder that his jaw dropped and his befud- 
 dled brain took to whirling. 
 
 The girls, less regardful of appearances, climbed 
 down from the platform and started forward to meet 
 their knights-errant. The reader may readily ap- 
 preciate the feelings of the quartette. Not one of 
 them knew just precisely how much or how little the 
 others knew; they were precariously near to being 
 lost in the labyrinth. Something intangible but 
 regular urged Windomshire to be politic ; he advanced 
 to meet Eleanor as if it were her due. Anne fell 
 back, perplexed and hurt. 
 
 " Hang it all," thought Joe, rage in his heart, 
 " he beat me to her, after all. He'll be enough of a 
 damned ass to try to kiss her before all these people, 
 too." Whereupon, he closed his eyes tightly. When 
 he opened them, Miss Courtenay was walking beside 
 him and asking questions about the weather. Her 
 cheeks were very pink. Windomshire had awkwardly 
 clasped the hand of Miss Thursdale, muttering some- 
 thing not quite intelligible, even to himself. Eleanor 
 was replying with equal blitheness. 
 
 " How nice of you to come. Where are you 
 going? "
 
 112 THE FLYERS 
 
 "Surprised, are you?" he was floundering. 
 " Charmed. Ha, ha ! By Jove, Eleanor er I 
 heard you were booked by this train and I I tried 
 to catch it for a bit of a ride with you. I missed it, 
 don't you know. I'll I'll wager you don't know 
 what I did in my desperation." 
 
 " I couldn't guess," she said, trying to catch 
 Joe's eye. 
 
 " I hired a private engine, 'pon my word, and then 
 telegraphed ahead to stop this train ! " 
 
 "Di did you do that?" she gasped, forgetting 
 that the bridge was out. 
 
 Dauntless, meantime, was trying to explain to Miss 
 Courtenay. She already had told him that her aunt 
 was ill in Vancouver, and he had smiled politely 
 and aimlessly. 
 
 " I'm on my way to M . Sudden trip, very 
 
 important," he was saying. " Missed the train I 
 dare say it was this one so I took an engine to fol- 
 low up. Had to ride in the tender." 
 
 " It must have been important," she ventured. 
 
 " It was. I " then with an inspired plunge 
 " I was due at a wedding." 
 
 " How unfortunate ! I hope you won't miss it 
 altogether." 
 
 Joe caught his breath and thought: "Now what 
 the devil did she mean by that ? Has Eleanor told 
 her the whole story?" 
 
 It must not be supposed that these young persons 
 were lacking in the simpler gifts of intelligence ; they 
 were, individually, beginning to put two and two to-
 
 THE FLYERS 113 
 
 gether, as the saying goes. They were grasping the 
 real situation groping for it, perhaps, but with 
 a clear-sightedness and acumen which urged that a 
 cautious tongue was expedient. If the duplicity was 
 really as four-handed as it seemed, there could be no 
 harm in waiting for the other fellow to blunder into 
 exposure. Nothing could be explained, of course, 
 tatil the conspirators found opportunity to consult 
 privately under the new order of assignment. 
 
 " How romantic ! " Eleanor said, as she walked 
 stiffly ahead with her uncomfortable fiance. 
 
 " Eh ? " was his simple remark. He was suddenly 
 puzzled over the fact that he had caught up to the 
 train. There was something startling in that. " Oh 
 er not at all romantic, most prosaic. Couldn't 
 get a coach. Been here long? " 
 
 " Since five o'clock." 
 
 " I I suppose you got up to see the sunrise." 
 
 "No, to see the river rise," she replied. "The 
 bridge is gone." He was silent for twenty paces, try- 
 ing to recall what he had said about telegraphing 
 ahead. 
 
 " You don't mean it ! Then I daresay they haven't 
 got my telegram stopping the train." 
 
 " How annoying ! " 
 
 Dauntless had just said to Anne, in a fit of dis- 
 gust : " Windomshire's got a lot of nerve. That was 
 my engine, you know. I hired it." 
 
 Windomshire went on to say, careful that Joe was 
 quite out of hearing : " Mr. Dauntless was quite an- 
 noying. He got into my engine without an invita-
 
 114 THE FLYERS 
 
 tion, and I'm hanged if he'd take a hint, even after 
 I hired a stoker to throw a spadeful of coal over him. 
 I don't know why he should be in such a confounded 
 hurry to get to what's the name of the place? I 
 er I really think I must go and speak to Miss 
 Courtenay, Eleanor. She er looks ill." 
 
 " It's her grandmother who is ill not she. But, 
 yes ! Please try to cheer her up a bit, Harry. She's 
 terribly upset." 
 
 " I'm sure she is," muttered he, dropping back 
 with more haste than gallantry. Mr. Dauntless 
 sprang forward with equal alacrity, and wrong was 
 right a moment later. 
 
 " Joe dear," whispered Eleanor, " I've been nearly 
 crazy. What happened? " He was vainly trying to 
 clasp her hand. 
 
 " Nell, he's on to us. I wish I knew just why Miss 
 Courtenay is here. Lord, I'll never forget that ride." 
 
 " It was just like you to take advantage of his 
 engine." 
 
 " His engine ! " exploded Joe, wrathfully. Securely 
 separated from the others, the elopers analysed the 
 situation as best they could. Two separate enter- 
 prises struggled earnestly for an outcome. On the 
 surface, the truth seemed plain enough: it was quite 
 clear to both parties that the extraordinary chain 
 of coincidence was not entirely due to Providence. 
 There was something of design behind it all. The 
 staggering part was the calamitous way in which 
 chance had handled their dear and private affairs. 
 
 " He doesn't know that you were in my automo-
 
 THE FLYERS 115 
 
 bile," concluded Dauntless, almost at the same time 
 that a like opinion was being expressed by Windom- 
 shire. " Are you willing to go on with it, Nell? Are 
 you scared out of it? " 
 
 "No, indeed," she exclaimed, perplexity leaving 
 her brow. " At first I feared he might have tele- 
 graphed to mother, but now I am sure he hasn't. 
 He was not following me at all. He is in love with 
 Anne, and he was surreptitiously off for a part of the 
 distance with her. He really doesn't want to marry 
 me, you know." 
 
 " Well, he isn't going to, you see. By all that 
 is holy, nothing shall stop us now, dear. We'll go on 
 to Omegon and carry out everything just as we 
 planned. If he's running off after another girl, it's 
 time you put an end to him. Don't give him a 
 thought." 
 
 " Don't you think we'd better talk it over with 
 Mr. Derby? He discreetly disappeared when he 
 saw it was you." 
 
 "Right! Let's hunt him out. By Jove, we can 
 have him marry us right here, great ! " 
 
 " No," she cried firmly, " it must be in a church." 
 He could not move her from that stand. 
 
 " Oh, if we could only get across that confounded 
 river ! " scolded Joe, as they went off in search of 
 Derby. 
 
 Windomshire was slowly reconciling himself to the 
 fact that Eleanor loved Dauntless, but he could not 
 get it out of his head that she still expected to marry 
 as her mother had planned.
 
 116 THE FLYERS 
 
 " See here, Anne, it's all very well to say that she 
 loves Dauntless. Of course she does. But that isn't 
 going to prevent her from marrying me. I don't 
 believe she was running away with him, don't you 
 know. He was simply following her. That's the 
 way these Americans do, you know. Now, the ques- 
 tion is, won't she think it odd that you and I should 
 happen to be doing almost the same thing? " 
 
 " To be sure she will," said Anne, coolly. " She 
 has a very bad opinion of me. I'm sure she doesn't 
 believe you expect to marry me." 
 
 " By Jove, dear, it sounds rather dreadful, doesn't 
 it? " he groaned. " But of course you are going to 
 marry me, so what's the odds? Then she can marry 
 Dauntless to her heart's content. I say, are we never 
 to get away from this beastly place ? " 
 
 " They are to row us across the river in boats. 
 We'll be taken up by another train over there and 
 carried on. Poor Mr. Dauntless, he looks so 
 harassed." 
 
 " By Jove, I feel rather cut up about him. He 
 ought to have her, Anne. He's a decent chap, al- 
 though he was da very unreasonable last night. 
 I like him, too, in spite of the fact that he kicked coal 
 over me twice in that confounded bin. He was good 
 enough to take a cinder out of my eye this morning, 
 and I helped him to find his watch in the coal-bin. I 
 say, Anne, we might get a farm waggon and drive 
 to some village where there is a minister " 
 
 " No, Harry ! you know I've set my heart on being 
 married in a church. It seems so much more decent
 
 THE FLYERS 117 
 
 and regular; especially after what has just hap- 
 pened." 
 
 A porter appeared in the rear platform and 
 shouted a warning to all those on the ground. 
 
 "Get yo' things together. The boat'll be ready 
 in ten minutes, ladies and genTmen." The locomo- 
 tive uttered a few sharp whistles to reinforce his 
 shouts, and everybody made a rush for the cars. 
 
 The conductor and other trainmen had all they 
 could do to reassure the more nervous and apprehen- 
 sive of the passengers, many of whom were afraid of 
 the swollen, ugly river just ahead. Boats had been 
 sent up from a town some miles down the stream, 
 and the passengers with their baggage, the express, 
 and the mail pouches were to be ferried across. Word 
 had been received that a makeshift train would pick 
 them up on the other side, not far from the wrecked 
 bridge, and take them to Omegon as quickly as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 It was also announced that the company would be 
 unable to send a train beyond Omegon and into the 
 northwest for eight or ten hours, owing to extensive 
 damage by the floods. Repairs to bridges and road- 
 bed were necessary. In the meantime, the pas- 
 sengers would be cared for at the Somerest Hotel in 
 Omegon, at the company's expense. The company 
 regretted and deplored, etc. 
 
 There was a frightful clamour by the through 
 passengers, threats of lawsuits, claims for damage, 
 execrations, and groans. In time, however, the whole 
 company went trooping down the track under the
 
 118 THE FLYERS 
 
 leadership of the patient conductor. It was a sorry, 
 disgruntled parade. Everybody wanted a porter at 
 once, and when he could not get one, berated the road 
 in fiercer terms than ever ; men who had always carried 
 their own bags to escape feeing a porter, now howled 
 and raged because there was not an army of them 
 on the spot. Everybody was constantly " damning " 
 the luck. 
 
 The conductor led his charges from the track 
 through a muddy stubble-field and down to a point 
 where half a dozen small rowboats were waiting 
 among the willows. Dauntless and Eleanor were well 
 up in front, their faces set resolutely toward Omegon. 
 For some well-defined reason, Windomshire and Anne 
 were the last in the strange procession. The medical 
 college agent, the tall and sombre Mr. Hooker, was 
 the first man into a boat. He said it was a case of 
 life or death. 
 
 Eleanor looked backward down the long file of 
 trailers, a little smile on her lips. 
 
 " They are not all going away to be married, are 
 they, Joe? " she said, taking note of the unbroken 
 array of sour countenances. 
 
 " It looks like a funeral, my dear. Look at the 
 cadaverous individual beside the con Heavens, Nell, 
 isn't that by George, it is! It's old Mrs. Van 
 Truder! Back there about half-way the fat one. 
 See her? Good Lord!" 
 
 Eleanor turned pale and the joyous light fled from 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! I forgot that the Van Truders spend
 
 THE FLYERS 11 9 
 
 all their summers at Omegon. And it is she and he, 
 too. Oh, Joe, it's just awful ! " 
 
 " She's the worst old cat in town," groaned Daunt- 
 less. " We can't escape her. She'll spot us, and 
 she'll never let go of us. I don't mind him. He's 
 so near-sighted he couldn't see us. But she ! " 
 
 " She will suspect, Joe she's sure to suspect, and 
 she'll watch us like a hawk," whispered the distressed 
 Eleanor. The Van Truders lived in the same block 
 with the Thursdales in town. " She'll telegraph to 
 mother ! " 
 
 " That reminds me," muttered Joe, looking at his 
 watch. " I had hoped to telegraph to your mother 
 about this time." 
 
 " She will forgive us," said she, but she failed in 
 her assumption of confidence. As a matter of fact 
 she felt that her mother would not forgive. 
 
 " Well, you left a note pinned on your pillow," 
 said he, as if that covered all the sins. 
 
 " Yes, but it was directed to Miss Courtenay, ask- 
 ing her to break it gently to mamma," said she, dis- 
 mally. 
 
 They had reached the edge of the river by this 
 time and others came up with them. For a while 
 they managed to keep out of old Mrs. Van Truder's 
 range of vision, but her sharp eyes soon caught sight 
 of them as they tried to slip into a boat that was 
 already crowded to its full capacity. 
 
 "Why, Eleanor Thursdale!" shouted the old 
 lady, her aristocratic eyes almost crossing in their 
 stare of amazement.
 
 120 THE FLYERS 
 
 " Discovered ! " groaned Dauntless to the willows. 
 
 Mrs. Van Truder pounced upon Eleanor and, be- 
 tween personal questions and impersonal reflections 
 upon non-government railways, gave her a dizzy 
 quarter of an hour. She ignored Mr. Dauntless al- 
 most completely, quite entirely when she discovered 
 Mr. Windomshire in the background. Little old Mr. 
 Van Truder, in his usual state of subjection, was per- 
 mitted to study the scenery at close range. 
 
 " I was so afraid you'd marry that horrid Daunt- 
 less fellow," whispered Mrs. Van Truder. Eleanor 
 gave vent to a constrained laugh. 
 
 " How perfectly preposterous ! w 
 
 ** When are you to be married, my dear? " 
 
 " At once I mean, quite soon. Isn't the scenery 
 beautiful, Mr. Van Truder? " asked Eleanor in 
 desperation. 
 
 " It's too far away. I can't see it," grumbled the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 "He's so very near-sighed," explained his wife. 
 " Do you expect to stay long at the Somerset? " 
 
 " It all depends," said Eleanor, with a glance at 
 Dauntless. 
 
 " Isn't that your governess with Mr. Windom- 
 shire? I can't be mistaken." 
 
 " Yes, she's going out to spend a few weeks with a 
 rich aunt, her sister's mother, I think." 
 
 " How's that? " gasped the old lady. 
 
 " I mean her mother's sister." 
 
 " It sounded very strange, my dear." 
 
 " About the mother having a sister? " guessed
 
 THE FLYERS 121 
 
 old Mr. Van Truder, sharply. "Seems all right 
 to me." 
 
 " They are going to row us across the river," 
 volunteered Eleanor, helplessly. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Windomshire," called Mrs. 
 Van Truder. Windomshire started and got very 
 red in the face. Miss Courtenay's bow went un- 
 noticed by the old lady. In sheer despair, the Eng- 
 lishman turned to Dauntless, a fellow-sufferer. 
 
 " I say, old man," he began nervously, " I'd like to 
 ask a favour of you." 
 
 " Go ahead anything I can do," said the other, 
 blankly. Windomshire continued in lowered tones : 
 
 " Deucedly awkward, but I forgot my bags at 
 Fenlock. I see you've got yours. Would you mind 
 lending me a fresh shirt and a collar, old chap ? " 
 
 " Gladly," cried Joe, very much relieved. " Will 
 you take them now?" starting to open his bag. 
 Windomshire hastily interposed. 
 
 " I'd rather not, old chap. It's rather exposed 
 here, don't you know. Later on, if you please. 
 Thanks, old man ; I'll not forget this." They shook 
 hands without any apparent excuse. 
 
 "Mr. Windomshire!" called Mrs. Van Truder. 
 He turned with a hopeless look in his eyes. The two 
 girls had misery and consternation plainly stamped 
 in their faces. " We can't all go over in the next 
 boats, you know. I've no doubt you and Miss 
 Thursdale would not in the least mind being left to 
 the last," with a sly smile. 
 
 " Oh er ah, by Jove ! " gasped Windomshire,
 
 122 THE FLYERS 
 
 with a glance at the still faces of the young women:, 
 He saw no relief there. 
 
 " Blamed cat ! " muttered Dauntless, gritting his 
 teeth. 
 
 " Mr. Dauntless, will you and Miss Courtenay 
 come with us in this boat? I want some one to keep 
 the snakes away ; Mr. Van Truder can't see them, you 
 know." 
 
 There was no way out of it. Joe and Anne meekly 
 followed the Van Truders into the wobbly boat, re- 
 sentment in their hearts, uncertainty in their minds. 
 They rowed away, leaving Windomshire and Eleanor 
 standing among the willows, ill at ease and troubled 
 beyond expression.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AS NIGHT APPROACHES 
 
 Neither spoke until the boat came to its slippery, 
 uncertain landing-place on the opposite side of the 
 river. Then each breathed easier, in a sigh that 
 seemed to express both relief and dismay. 
 
 "It's a very ugly looking river," she murmured 
 encouragingly. She was afraid he might feel obliged, 
 in honour, to offer an explanation for his presence, 
 perhaps attempt to convince her in some tangible 
 way that she was to expect nothing but slavish devo- 
 tion from him in the future. 
 
 " I don't wonder that the bridge gave way," he re- 
 plied politely. They looked at each other in- 
 voluntarily, and then instantly looked away. 
 
 " I'd give my head to know what she expects of 
 me," thought Windomshire miserably. 
 
 " How I despise that old woman ! " welled up in 
 Eleanor's bitter heart. Everything was awry. 
 Luckily for both of them a small boy slipped into the 
 river at that moment. He was rescued by the brake- 
 man, but not until the catastrophe had served its pur- 
 pose as a godsend. The excitement which attended 
 the rescue saved the couple an uncomfortable ten 
 minutes. Eleanor went to the assistance of the dis- 
 123
 
 124 THE FLYERS 
 
 tracted mother ; Windomshire, in his eagerness to do 
 something, offered to exchange clothes with the 
 dripping trainman; the small boy howled as lustily 
 as his wheezy lungs would permit. Everybody 
 shouted advice to the mother, rebukes to the boy, 
 and praise to the hero; altogether Providence was 
 acting most handsomely. 
 
 At last the final boatload of passengers crossed 
 the river and drew up at the landing; Eleanor, with 
 her bewildered fiance, stepped into the beaming 
 presence of Mrs. Van Truder. 
 
 ** Come with us," she said with a friendliness that 
 shattered all hope. " Mr. Van Truder has just ar- 
 ranged for breakfast at that farmhouse over there. 
 The relief train won't be here for half an hour or more 
 and you must be famished." Eleanor's flimsy excuses 
 were unavailing; her protestations that she could not 
 eat a mouthful fell on obdurate ears. Windomshire, 
 catching sight of the forlorn Anne, was about to as- 
 sert himself vigorously in declining the invitation 
 when a meaning look from the governess caused him 
 to refrain. The look very plainly told him to ac- 
 cept. 
 
 The unhappy couple followed the Van Truders to 
 the nearby farmhouse. They left behind them on the 
 edge of the crowd, seated side by side on a pile of ties, 
 two miserable partners in the fiasco. Gloomy, indeed, 
 was the outlook for Miss Courtenay and the despised 
 Mr. Dauntless. They were silent for many minutes 
 after the departure, rage in their hearts. Then 
 Mr. Dauntless could hold his tongue no longer.
 
 THE FLYERS 125 
 
 " Damn her ! " he exploded so viciously that Anne 
 jumped and cried out, 
 
 "Mr. Dauntless!" 
 
 " Oh, you feel just as I do about it only you won't 
 say it aloud," he exclaimed. "I won't stand for 
 it!" 
 
 " I I am sure Miss Thursdale has done nothing 
 to deserve your curses," she began diplomatically. 
 
 " Good Heavens, Miss Courtenay, you Oh, I say, 
 you know I didn't mean Eleanor. The old pelican 
 that's the one. Old Mrs. Intruder," he grated. 
 
 " I am sure it is all quite regular," observed Anne, 
 so seriously that he looked at her in wonder. It 
 began to creep into his head that his speculations 
 were wrong, after all. At any rate it seemed advis- 
 able to put a sharp curb on his tongue. 
 
 " I'm sorry I spoke as I did about the old lady," 
 he said, after a moment's reflection. " I was think- 
 ing of the way in which she left you out of her invita- 
 tion to breakfast." 
 
 " And yourself, incidentally," she smiled. 
 
 " Miss Courtenay, I'm I'm a confounded ass for 
 not thinking of your breakfast. It's not too late. 
 We are both hungry. Won't you come with me and 
 have a bit of something to eat ? We'll try that farm- 
 house ourselves. Come, let us hurry or the crowd 
 will get in ahead of us. Ham and eggs and coffee! 
 they always have that sort of breakfast in farm- 
 houses, I'm told. Come." 
 
 She sprang up cheerfully, and followed him across 
 the meadow to the farmhouse. The Van Truder
 
 126 THE FLYERS 
 
 party was entering the door, smoke pouring forth 
 suggestively from a chimney in the rear of the house. 
 The sudden desire for ham and eggs was overcoming, 
 in a way, the pangs of outraged love; there was 
 solace in the new thought. 
 
 That breakfast was one never to be forgotten by 
 four persons ; two others remembered it to their last 
 days on account of its amazing excellence. A dozen 
 persons were crowded into the little dining-room ; no 
 one went forth upon his travels with an empty 
 stomach. No such profitable harvest had ever been 
 reaped by the farmer. Dauntless and Anne ate off 
 of a sewing-table in the corner. Mrs. Van Truder 
 deliberately refused to hear Mr. Windomshire's 
 timorous suggestion that they " make room " for 
 them at the select table. Silent anathemas accom- 
 panied every mouthful of food that went down the 
 despot's throat, but she did not know it. Fortunately 
 the lovers were healthy and hungry. They fared 
 forth after that memorable breakfast with lighter 
 hearts, though still misplaced by an unrelenting 
 fate. 
 
 All the way to Omegon Anne sat in the seat with 
 the seething Dauntless, each nursing a pride that had 
 received almost insupportable injuries during the 
 morning hours. Windomshire and Eleanor, under 
 the espionage of the " oldest friend of the family," 
 moped and sighed with a frankness that could not 
 have escaped more discerning eyes. Mrs. Van 
 Truder, having established herself as the much needed 
 chaperon, sat back complacently and gave her
 
 THE FLYERS 127 
 
 charges every opportunity to hold private and no 
 doubt sacred communication in the double seat just 
 across the aisle. 
 
 Eleanor pleaded fatigue, and forthwith closed her 
 wistful eyes. Windomshire, with fine consideration, 
 sank into a rapt study of the flitting farm lands. 
 Having got but little sleep among the coals, he finally 
 dropped off into a peaceful cat nap. 
 
 Omegon was reached before Eleanor had the 
 courage to awaken him. She did so then only be- 
 cause it was impossible for her to crawl over his knees 
 without losing her dignity ; they were planted sturdily 
 against the seat in front. She fled like a scared child 
 to Joe's side, her mind made up to cling to him now, 
 no matter what manner of opposition prevailed. 
 
 " I'll go with you, Joe," she whispered fiercely. 
 " I don't care what any one says or thinks. Your 
 cousin will meet us with the carriage, won't he? " she 
 concluded piteously. Windomshire also had taken 
 the bull by the horns and was helping Miss Courtenay 
 from the train with an assiduity that brought down 
 the wrath of obstructing passengers upon his devoted 
 head. 
 
 " He said he would," replied Dauntless, his spirits 
 in the clouds. " We must get away from these people, 
 Nell. " I'll go crazy in another minute. There's 
 Derby waiting for instructions. Dear old Darb 
 he's a brick. My cousin Jim is a deacon or some- 
 thing in the village church, dear, and he has promised 
 to let us in. I suppose he has a key. He and his wife 
 will be the only witnesses. By George, nothing can
 
 128 THE FLYERS 
 
 stop us now, dear, if you have the nerve to Where 
 the dickens is Jim? Confound him, I don't see him on 
 the platform." 
 
 He looked about the station platform first 
 anxiously, then impatiently, then with consterna- 
 tion! His cousin was nowhere in sight. Cold with 
 apprehensiveness, he dashed over to a citizen who 
 wore a star upon his coat, almost dragging Eleanor 
 after him. 
 
 "Is Jim Carpenter here? Have you seen him? 
 Do you know him? " he demanded. 
 
 " He was here, mister. 'Bout two hours ago, I 
 reckon. I guess you must be the fellow he was to 
 meet" 
 
 " Yes, yes, where is he now? " 
 
 " I don't know, mister. His wife's got pneumonia, 
 an' he told me to tell you he couldn't wait. He took 
 the doctor right out to" 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exploded Joe. The citizen jumped 
 a few inches into the air. " He's gone? " 
 
 " Yep. But he told me to tell you to go over to 
 the Somerset an' wait till you hear from him." 
 
 "Wait till I hear from him?" groaned 
 Dauntless, wild-eyed but faint. He and Eleanor 
 looked at each other in despair. 
 
 " Go to the hotel? " she murmured, her heart 
 in her boots. " I never can do that," she continued. 
 Her voice was full of tears. 
 
 Mrs. Van Truder bore down upon them like an 
 angry vulture. They saw her coming, but neither 
 had the strength of purpose to move.
 
 THE FLYERS 129 
 
 Before they really knew how it happened, she was 
 leading Eleanor to the hotel 'bus and he was limply 
 following, lugging both bags with a faithfulness 
 that seemed pathetic. Two minutes later they were 
 in the 'bus, touching knees with the equally dazed and 
 discomfited English people. 
 
 Back on the platform the elongated medical gentle- 
 man, Mr. Hooker, was talking loudly, wrathfully to 
 the station agent. His voice rang in their ears long 
 after the 'bus rolled away on its " trip " to the big 
 summer hotel. 
 
 " You say old man Grover ain't dead yet?" 
 Mr. Hooker was growling resentfully, even indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " He ain't expected to live till night, sir, poor old 
 man," replied the agent. 
 
 " Well, I'll be damned ! " roared Mr. Hooker. I 
 don't see any sense in a man of his age hanging on 
 like this. He's eighty-three. My time is valuable " 
 looking at his big silver watch " and I can't afford 
 to hang around here if he's going to act like this." 
 The agent stared after him as if he were looking at a 
 maniac. Mr. Hooker set off in the direction of old 
 Mr. Grover's house, which had been pointed out to 
 him by a gaping small boy. " I'll go up and see about 
 it," he remarked, as he stepped across a wide rivulet 
 in the middle of the main street. 
 
 The Somerset Hotel was situated on the most beau- 
 tiful point of land touching that trim little lake 
 which attracted hundreds of city people annually by 
 its summer wiles. It was too sedate and quiet to be
 
 130 THE FLYERS 
 
 fashionable ; the select few who went there sought rest 
 from the frivolities of the world. Eleanor Thurs- 
 dale had spent one tiresome but proper season there 
 immediately after the death of her father. She hated 
 everything in connection with the place except the 
 little old-fashioned church at the extreme end of the 
 village street, fully half a mile from the hotel. She 
 had chosen it, after romantic reflection, as the sanctu- 
 ary in which she should become the wife of the man she 
 loved, spurning the great church in town and one 
 of its loveless matches. 
 
 The forenoon is left to the imagination of the 
 reader, with all of its unsettled plans, its doubts 
 and misgivings, its despairs and its failures, its sub- 
 terfuges and its strategies, its aggravations and com- 
 plaints. Bell-boys carried surreptitious notes from 
 room to room ; assurances, hopes, and reassurances 
 passed one another in systematic confusion. Love 
 was trying to find its way out of the maze. 
 
 Immediately after luncheon Dauntless set out to 
 discover his faithless cousin. Eleanor kept close to 
 her room, in readiness for instant flight. The neces- 
 sary Mr. Derby had his instructions to remain where 
 he could be found without trouble. Mrs. Van Truder, 
 taking up Eleanor's battles, busied herself and every 
 one else in the impossible task of locating the young 
 woman's trunks, which, according to uncertain re- 
 ports, had gone mysteriously astray. Moreover, she 
 had prepared a telegram to the young lady's mother, 
 assuring her that she was quite safe ; but Mr. Daunt-
 
 THE FLYERS 131 
 
 less boldly intercepted Mr. Van Truder on his way to 
 the desk. 
 
 " Allow me," he remarked, deliberately taking the 
 despatch from the old gentleman. " I'll send it from 
 the station. Don't bother about it, Mr. Van Truder." 
 He drove through the village, but did not stop at the 
 station ; his instructions to the driver did not include 
 a pause anywhere. It is not necessary to relate what 
 took place when he descended upon the unfortunate 
 Jim ; it is sufficient to say that he dragged him from 
 his sick wife's bedside and berated him soundly for 
 his treachery. Then it was all rearranged, the hap- 
 less Jim being swept into promises which he could not 
 break, even with death staring his wife in the face. 
 The agitated Mr. Dauntless drove back to the hotel 
 with a new set of details perfected. This time noth- 
 ing should go wrong. 
 
 His first action was to acquaint Derby with the 
 plans, and then to send a note of instructions to Elea- 
 nor, guarding against any chance that they might 
 not be able to communicate with each other in per- 
 son. 
 
 " It's all fixed," he announced to Derby, in a se- 
 cluded corner of the grounds. " To-night at nine we 
 are to be at the church down the road there see it? 
 Nobody is on to us, and Jim has a key. He will meet 
 you there at a quarter of nine. But, hang it all, his 
 wife can't act as a witness. We've got to provide 
 one. He suggested the postmaster, but I don't like 
 the idea; it looks too much like a cheap elopement. 
 I'd just as soon have the cook or the housemaid. I'll
 
 132 THE FLYERS 
 
 get Eleanor there if I have to kill that Van Truder 
 woman. Now, whom shall we have as the second wit- 
 ness? " 
 
 " Windomshire, I'm afraid," lamented Derby. 
 " You won't be able to get rid of him." 
 
 " Hang him ! " groaned Dauntless, his spirits fall- 
 ing, but instantly reviving. " But he's dead in love 
 with Miss Courtenay. It's pitiful, old man. He feels 
 that he's got to marry Nell, but it's not in his heart to 
 do it. Now if we could only shunt him off on to Miss 
 Courtenay this evening! Her train leaves at nine, 
 they say. He might be forced to take her to the 
 station if you will only get busy and make him jeal- 
 ous." 
 
 "Jealous? I?" 
 
 " Certainly. It won't be much of an effort for you, 
 and it will help me immensely. Make love to her this 
 afternoon, and when you suggest taking her to the 
 station this evening he'll be so wrought up that he 
 won't stand for it. See what I mean ? " 
 
 " Now see here, Joe, I'm willing to do a great deal 
 for you, but this is too much. You forget that I am a 
 minister of the gospel. It's " 
 
 " I know, old man, but you might do a little thing 
 like this for By Jove, I've got it ! Why not have 
 old Mr. Van Truder for the other witness? " 
 
 Mr. Van Truder was crossing the lawn, picking his 
 way carefully. 
 
 " Good afternoon," greeted Dauntless. 
 
 "Afternoon," responded Mr. Van Truder. "I 
 this the hotel? "
 
 THE FLYERS 183 
 
 " No, sir ; the hotel is about ten feet to your left. 
 By the way, Mr. Van Truder, would you mind doing 
 me a favour this evening? " 
 
 "Gladly. Who are you?" 
 
 " Joe Dauntless." 
 
 " Anything, my dear Joe." 
 
 " Well, it's a dead secret." 
 
 "A secret? Trust me," cried the old man, joy- 
 fully. 
 
 " First, let me introduce my friend, the Rev. Mr. 
 Derby. He's in the secret. It will go no farther, I 
 trust, Mr. Van Truder." 
 
 " My wife says I can't keep a secret, but I'll show 
 her that I can. Trust me, my boy." 
 
 " I'll bet you a hundred dollars you can't keep this 
 one," said Joe, inspired. 
 
 "Done!" 
 
 " Well," bravely but cautiously, " I'm going to be 
 married to-night. Be careful now! Look out! 
 Don't explode ! Remember the bet !" The old gentle- 
 man repressed his feelings. 
 
 "Beautiful!" he exclaimed. "Congratulations, 
 my boy." 
 
 " Now for the favour. I want you to act as a wit- 
 ness. It's to be a very quiet affair." Dauntless ex- 
 plained as much of the situation to him as he thought 
 necessary, omitting the lady's name. Mr. Van Tru- 
 der bubbled over with joy and eagerness. He prom- 
 ised faithfully to accompany Mr. Derby, pooh-hoo- 
 ing the suggestion that he could not slip away from 
 the hotel without his wife being aware of the fact.
 
 134 THE FLYERS 
 
 "Trust me, my boy. Don't worry. I'm always 
 Johnny-on-the-spot. Where did you say the hotel 
 was? I'll go up and get ready. Oh, by the way, 
 who is the young lady? " 
 
 " She's a friend of Mr. Dauntless's," said Mr. 
 Derby. 
 
 "To be sure; I might have known. Silly ques- 
 tion." 
 
 The young men watched him enter the hotel, but 
 they did not see him fall into the clutches of his wife 
 just inside the door. 
 
 " Where have you been? " demanded Mrs. Van 
 Truder. 
 
 " I've been looking everywhere for you, my dear," 
 he said, almost whimpering. " I've got a grand se- 
 cret, but I can't tell you. Don't ask me ! " 
 
 " Is it a wedding? " she demanded sternly. 
 
 " Dear me! Do you know it too? " he cried, be- 
 wildered. " But that's not the real secret ; it's only 
 part of it. Joe is going to marry some friend of his 
 to-night but that's as far as I'll go. I'll not be- 
 tray the secret." He hurried away to avoid ques- 
 tions, muttering to himself as he went : " She's dying 
 to know. But a secret's a secret. She sha'n't know 
 that I am to be a witness." 
 
 Mrs. Van Truder pondered long and deeply, but 
 she was not well enough acquainted with all of the 
 facts to hazard a guess as to who the girl might be. 
 It came to her memory that Dauntless had been with 
 Miss Courtenay all morning, however, and she won- 
 dered not a little. Windomshire was approaching in
 
 THE FLYERS 135 
 
 search of Anne, who was to have met him as if by ac- 
 cident in a corner of the reading-room. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Windomshire," exclaimed Mrs. Van Tra- 
 der, darting toward him. 
 
 " How do, Mrs. Van Trader? How are you to- 
 day? " he asked, scarcely able to hide his annoyance. 
 
 " That is the tenth time you've asked me that ques- 
 tion. I must repeat : I am quite well." 
 
 " Oh, pardon my inquisitiveness. It has been a 
 very long day, you know." 
 
 " I want you and Miss Thursdale to dine with me 
 at eight this evening. I think I'll have a little sur- 
 prise for you," she said mysteriously. Windomshire 
 glared, and then managed to give a provisional ac- 
 ceptance. It all depended on the hour of leaving for 
 the train. As he hurried off to find Anne he was 
 groaning to himself : " How the deuce can I go to 
 a dinner and run off again with Anne? I've got every- 
 thing arranged. I can't let a beastly dinner inter- 
 fere. I won't go, hang me if I do." He came upon 
 Anne in the corner of the library the most unfre- 
 quented corner. 
 
 " Well? " she questioned eagerly. He clasped her 
 hands, beaming once more. 
 
 " I've seen him, dear. It's all right. My word, 
 I've had no end of a busy day. The confounded fel- 
 low was out making calls on the congregation, as they 
 say, and I had to pursue him from house to house, 
 always missing him, by Jove." 
 
 " But you did find him? " anxiously. 
 
 " Of course. He will be at the church at nine to-
 
 136 THE FLYERS 
 
 night sharp. He understands that no one is to 
 know about it. His fee is ten pounds quite a bit for 
 a chap like him. I found him calling upon a fellow 
 who is about to die a Mr. Grover. He sent out word 
 I'd have to wait as the old gentleman was passing 
 away. By Jove, do you know I was that intense that 
 I sent in word that the old gentleman would have to 
 wait a bit I couldn't. The pastor came out and 
 well, it seems that the fee for helping a chap to get 
 married is more substantial than what he gets for 
 helping one to die. And, as luck would have it, I 
 found a fellow who will act as one of the witnesses to 
 the ceremony at this same house, a Mr. Hooker, 
 Anne. He came down on the train with us. Tall, 
 dark, professional looking man. He was sitting on 
 Mr. Grover's front steps when I got there. The 
 other witness must have two, you know is the 
 head-waiter in the dining-room here " 
 
 " The head-waiter? " she gasped. 
 
 " He's a very decent sort of chap, my dear and, 
 besides, we can't be choosers. Waiters are most dis- 
 creet fellows, too. He's to get two pounds for his 
 trouble. By Jove, I think I've done rather well. I'm 
 sorry if you don't approve," he lamented. 
 
 " But I do approve, Harry," she cried bravely. 
 "It's lovely!" 
 
 " Good ! I knew you would. Now all we have to 
 do is to slip away from here this evening, and Oh, 
 I say, hang it all ! Mrs. Van Truder has asked me 
 to dine with them this evening." 
 
 " Isn't she running you a bit ? " cried Anne, indig-
 
 THE FLYERS 137 
 
 nantly. " She had you for breakfast and luncheon 
 and now it's dinner. I daresay she'll have you for tea 
 too." 
 
 " But I'm not going to her confounded dinner. 
 That's settled. I can't do it, you know, and be on 
 time for the wedding. Deuce take it, what does she 
 take a fellow for? Hello, here comes the chap that 
 Dauntless introduced to us this morning." Derby 
 was approaching with a warm and ingratiating smile. 
 " What's his name? Confound him." 
 
 " Mr. Derby, I think. Why can't they give us a 
 moment's peace? " she pouted. Derby came up to 
 them, his eyes sparkling with a fire which they could 
 not and were not to understand. He had surveyed 
 them from a distance for some time before deciding to 
 ruthlessly, cruelly break in upon the tranquil situ- 
 ation. 
 
 " She's a pretty girl," he reflected, unconsciously 
 going back to his college days, and quite forgetting 
 his cloth which, by the way, was a neat blue serge 
 with a tender stripe. Consoling himself with the 
 thought that he was doing it to accommodate an old 
 friend, the good-looking Mr. Derby boldly entered the 
 lists for the afternoon. He felt, somehow, that he had 
 it in his power to make Mr. Windomshire quite jeal- 
 ous and at the same time do nothing reprehensible. 
 What he did succeed in doing, alas, was to make two 
 young people needlessly miserable for a whole after- 
 noon bringing on grievous headaches and an attack 
 of suppressed melancholia that savoured somewhat of 
 actual madness.
 
 138 THE FLYERS 
 
 True to his project, he laboured hard and skil- 
 fully for hours. Windomshire moved about in soli- 
 tude, gnashing his -^eth. wHte Derby unceremoni- 
 ously whisked the dazed Anne off for pleasant walks 
 or held her at bay in some secluded corner of the par- 
 lours. By dinner-time, encouraged by Joe's wild but 
 cautious applause, he had driven Windomshire almost 
 to distraction. A thing he did not know, however, 
 else his pride might have cringed perceptibly, was 
 that Anne Courtenay was growing to hate him as no 
 one was ever hated before. 
 
 " Well," he said to the nervous Mr. Dauntless at 
 seven o'clock that evening, having arrived at what he 
 called the conclusion of his day's work, " I think I've 
 done all that was expected, haven't I? " 
 
 "You've got him crazy, old boy. Look at him! 
 It's the first minute he's had since half-past two. 
 Say, what do you think of this cursed weather? It's 
 raining again and muddy! Great Scot, old man! 
 it's knee deep, and we don't dare take a carriage to 
 the church. One can't sneak worth a cent in a cab, 
 you know. See you later! There's Eleanor wait- 
 ing to speak to me. By George, I'm nervous. You 
 zeon'f fail us, old man? " 
 
 " I'll do my part, Joe," said Derby, smiling. 
 
 " Well, so long, if I don't see you before nine. You 
 look out for old Mr. Van Truder, will you? See that 
 he sneaks out properly. And " 
 
 " Don't worry, old chap. Go to Miss Thursdale. 
 She seems nervous."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE KG AD TO PARADISE 
 
 Night again and again the mist and the drizzle; 
 again the country lane, but without the warm club- 
 house fire, the cheery lights, the highball, and the 
 thumping motor car. Soggy, squashy mud instead 
 of the clean tonneau ; heavy, cruel wading through 
 unknown by-ways in place of the thrilling rush to 
 Fenlock. Not twenty-four hours had passed, and yet 
 it seemed that ages lay between the joyous midnight 
 and the sodden, heart-breaking eve that followed. 
 
 The guests at the Somerset kept close indoors, 
 that is, most of them did. It is with those who 
 fared forth resolutely into the night that we have to 
 do ; the rest of the world is to be barred from any 
 further connection with this little history. It is far 
 out in the dreary country lane and not inside the 
 warm hotel that we struggle to attain our end. First 
 one, then another stealthy figure crept forth into the 
 drizzle; before the big clock struck half-past eight, 
 at least six respectable and supposedly sensible per- 
 sons had mysteriously disappeared. Only one of our 
 close acquaintances remained in the hotel, Mrs. 
 Van Truder. It was not to be long, however,' before 
 139
 
 14-0 THE FLYERS 
 
 she, too, would be adventuring forth in search of the 
 unknown. 
 
 By this it may be readily understood that Mr. Van 
 Truder had succeeded in escaping from beneath her 
 very nose, as it were. 
 
 The little village church stood at the extreme end 
 of the street, dark, dismal, quite awe-inspiring on 
 a night like this. A narrow lane stretched from the 
 hotel to the sanctuary and beyond. There is nothing 
 at hand to show whether it is a Methodist, a Presbyte- 
 rian, or a Baptist church. As the two young women 
 most vitally concerned in this tale were professedly 
 high church, it is therefore no more than right that, 
 in the darkness, it should be looked upon as an Epis- 
 copalian church. 
 
 Two stumbling figures, pressing close to each other 
 in the shelter of a single wobbly umbrella, forged their 
 uncertain way through the muddy lane. Except for 
 the brief instants when the dull flicker of lightning 
 came to their relief, they were in pitch darkness. 
 
 " Beastly dark, isnt it? " said one of the figures. 
 
 "And beastly muddy too," said the other, in a 
 high, disconsolate treble. " Oh, dear, where are we? " 
 
 " I don't know, but I feel as though we were about 
 to step off of something every moment. Do you know, 
 Anne, it's extraordinary that I shouldn't know how 
 to light one of these confounded lanterns." 
 
 "Try it again, Harry dear. I'll hold the 
 umbrella." 
 
 " Oh, I see! By Jove, one has to open the thing, 
 don't you know. Ah, there we are ! That's better,"
 
 THE FLYERS 141 
 
 he said, after he had succeeded in finally lighting 
 the wick. He held the lantern up close to her face 
 and they looked at each other for a moment. " Anne, 
 I do love you ! " he exclaimed. Then he kissed her. 
 " That's the first time I've had a chance to kiss you in 
 thirty-six hours." 
 
 They plodded onward, closer together than ever, 
 coming at last to the little gate which opened into the 
 churchyard. Before them stood the black little 
 building with its steeple, but the windows were as 
 dark as Erebus. They stopped in consternation. 
 He looked at his watch. 
 
 " Confound him, he's not here ! " growled Windom- 
 shire. 
 
 " Perhaps we are early," suggested Anne, feebly. 
 
 " It's a quarter to nine," he said. " I suppose there 
 is nothing left for us to do but to wait. " I'll look 
 around a bit, dear. Perhaps the witnesses are here 
 somewhere." 
 
 " Oo-oo-ooh ! Don't leave me ! she almost 
 shrieked. " Look ! There is a graveyard ! I won't 
 stay here alone ! " They were standing at the foot 
 of the rough wooden steps leading up to the church 
 door. 
 
 "Pooh! Don't be afraid of tombstones," he 
 scoffed ; but he was conscious of a little shiver in his 
 back. " They can't bite, you know. Besides, all 
 churches have graveyards and crypts and " 
 
 " This one has no crypt," she announced positively. 
 " Goodness, I'm mud up to my knees and rain down 
 to them. Why doesn't he come? "
 
 142 THE FLYERS 
 
 " I'll give the signal ; we had to arrange one, you 
 know, for the sake of identity." He gave three loud, 
 guttural coughs. A dog in the distance howled 
 mournfully, as if in response. Anne crept closer to 
 his side. 
 
 " It sounded as if some one were dying," she whis- 
 pered. " Look, isn't that a light? over there among 
 the gravestones ! " A light flickered for an instant 
 in the wretched little graveyard and then disappeared 
 as mysteriously as it came. " It's gone ! How 
 ghostly!" 
 
 " Extraordinary ! I don't understand. By Jove, 
 it's beginning to rain again. I'm sure to have ton- 
 silitis. I feel it when I cough." He coughed again, 
 louder than before. 
 
 Suddenly the steady beam of a dark lantern struck 
 their faces squarely ; a moment later the cadaverous 
 Mr. Hooker was climbing over the graveyard fence. 
 
 " Am I late? " he asked, as he came forward. 
 
 " I say, turn that beastly light the other way," 
 complained Windomshire, half blinded. " I thought 
 no one but robbers carried dark lanterns." 
 
 "The darker the deed, the darker the lantern," 
 said Mr. Hooker, genially. " Good-evening, madam. 
 Are we the only ones here? " He was very matter- 
 of-fact and business-like ; Anne loathed him on the in- 
 stant. 
 
 " We're all here but the minister and the other wit- 
 ness. I'll cough again although it hurts me to do 
 it." 
 
 He coughed thrice, but instead of a response in
 
 THE FLYERS 143 
 
 kind) three sharp whistles came from the trees at the 
 left. 
 
 " What's that? " he gasped. " Has he forgotten 
 the signal?" 
 
 " Maybe he is trying to cough," said rfooker, 
 " and can't do any better than wheeze. It's this rot- 
 ten weather." 
 
 " No, it was a whistle. Good Heavens, Anne it 
 may be detectives." 
 
 " Detectives ! " exclaimed Mr. Hooker, hoarsely. 
 " Then this is no place for me. Excuse me, I'll just 
 step around the corner." As he scurried off, he might 
 have been heard to mutter to himself: "They've 
 been hounding me ever since that job in the Cosgrove 
 cemetery. Damn 'em, I wonder if they think I'm up 
 here to rob the grave of one of these jays." From 
 which it may be suspected that Mr. Hooker had been 
 employed in the nefarious at one time or another. 
 
 "Detectives, Harry?" gasped Anne. "Why 
 should there be detectives? We're not criminals." 
 
 " You can't tell what Mrs. Thursdale may have 
 done when she discovered Hello ! There's a light 
 down the road ! 'Gad, I'll hide this lantern until 
 we're sure." He promptly stuck the lantern inside 
 his big raincoat and they were in darkness again. A 
 hundred yards to the left a light bobbed about, re- 
 minding them of childhood's will-o'-the-wisp. With- 
 out a word Windomshire drew her around the church, 
 stumbling over a discarded pew seat that stood 
 against the wall. Groaning with pain, he urged her 
 to crouch down with him behind the seat. All the
 
 144 THE FLYERS 
 
 while he held the umbrella manfully over her devoted 
 head. 
 
 Voices were heard, drawing nearer and nearer 
 one deep and cheery, the other high and queru- 
 lous. 
 
 Itit oh, Harry, it's that Mr. Derby ! " she 
 whispered. " I'd know his voice in a thousand." 
 
 " The devil ! " he whispered intensely, gripping her 
 hand. 
 
 Mr. Derby was saying encouragingly : " There is 
 the church, Mr. Van Truder. Brace up. We seem 
 to be the first to arrive." 
 
 " It's much farther away than you think," growled 
 Mr. Van Truder. "I can't see the lights in the 
 window." 
 
 " There are no lights yet. We are ahead of them. 
 I'll try the door." 
 
 The young minister kicked the mud from his shoes 
 as he went up the steps with the lantern. He tried 
 the door vigorously, and then, holding the 'lantern 
 high, surveyed the surroundings. Mr. Van Truder, 
 bundled up like a motorman, stood below shivering 
 but with joy. 
 
 " This is a great night for an affair of this kind," 
 he quaked. " By George, I feel twenty years younger. 
 I believe I could turn handsprings." 
 
 "I wouldn't if I were you. Don't forget your 
 somersault over that log back there, and your 
 splendid headspin in the mud puddle. It's past nine 
 o'clock. Joe's cousin was to be here at 8.45. Wonder 
 what keeps him. Joe will be here himself in a jiffy.
 
 THE FLYERS 145 
 
 Dear me, what a dreadful night they have chosen for 
 a wedding ! " 
 
 Windomshire whispered in horror to the girl be- 
 side him : " Good Lord, Anne, they're following us." 
 
 " Please, Harry," she whispered petulantly, " hold 
 the umbrella still. The water from the rainspout 
 is dripping down my back." 
 
 "By George, I wish Mrs. Van Truder could see 
 me now," came valiantly from the old gentleman 
 around the corner. " Say, whistle again." Derby 
 gave three sharp, shrill whistles. In silence they 
 waited a full minute for the response. There was not 
 a sound except the dripping of the rain. 
 
 " I'm afraid something is wrong," said Derby. 
 Just at that instant Windomshire, despite most heroic 
 efforts to prevent the catastrophe, sneezed with a 
 violence that shook his entire frame. " Sh ! don't 
 speak," hissed the startled minister. " We are being 
 watched. That was unmistakably a sneeze." 
 
 " I can't see any one," whispered Mr. Van Truder, 
 excitedly. " I see just as well in the dark as I do in 
 the light, too." 
 
 " Some one is coming. See ! There's a light down 
 the road. Let's step out of sight just for a moment." 
 
 Windomshire sneezed again, as if to accelerate the 
 movements of the two men. 
 
 " Hang it all ! " he gurgled in despair. Mr. Derby 
 had blinded his lantern and was hurrying off into the 
 grove with his companion. 
 
 " I can't help laughing, Harry," whispered Anne, 
 giggling softly. " You sneeze like an elephant."
 
 146 THE FLYERS 
 
 " But an elephant has more sense than to sneeze 
 as I do. I knew I'd take cold. Anne, they're after 
 us. It's old Mrs. Van Truder's work. What are they 
 up to? " 
 
 " Whatever it is, dear, they're just as much 
 mystified as we are. Did you hear him whistle? It is 
 a signal." 
 
 " I say, Anne, it's a beastly mess I've got you into," 
 groaned he. 
 
 " Dear old Harry, it is but the beginning of the 
 mess you're getting yourself into. I love this every 
 bit of it." 
 
 " You're ripping, Anne ; that's what you are. I 
 Great Scotland ! Here comes the head-waiter, but we 
 don't dare show ourselves. Did you ever know such 
 beastly luck? " 
 
 " There's another man too, away back there. 
 And, look! Isn't that a light coming through the 
 trees back of the gravestones? Good Heavens, 
 Harry, we can't be married in a public thorough- 
 fare. Everybody is walking with lanterns. It's 
 awful." 
 
 " Let's go around to the rear of the church," he 
 exclaimed suddenly. "Perhaps we can get our 
 brains to work on a plan of action. But, look here, 
 Anne, no matter who they are or what they want, I'm 
 going to marry you to-night if I have to do it in the 
 face of the entire crowd." 
 
 As they scurried off through the tall wet grass to a 
 less exposed station, a solitary figure came haltingly 
 through the little gate. It was the head-waiter, and,
 
 THE FLYERS 147 
 
 as he carried no lantern, he was compelled to light 
 matches now and then ; after getting his bearings he 
 would dart resolutely on for a dozen paces before 
 lighting another. Stopping in front of the church 
 door, he nervously tried to penetrate the gloom with 
 an anxious gaze ; then, suddenly bethinking, he gave 
 three timid little coughs. Getting no immediate 
 response, he growled aloud in his wrath : 
 
 " I've coughed my head off in front of every house 
 between here and the hotel, and I'm gettin' darned 
 tired of it. I don't like this business; and I never 
 could stand for graveyards. Good Lord! what's 
 that?" 
 
 Three sharp whistles came to his alert ears, com- 
 ing, it seemed, from the very heart of some grim old 
 gravestone. A man strode boldly across the yard 
 from the gate, his walk indicating that he was per- 
 fectly familiar with the lay of the land. 
 
 " Who coughed? " he demanded loudly. " Is there 
 no one here? What the dickens does it mean? Joe 
 Dauntless! Where are you? No fooling now; my 
 wife's worse, and I can't stay here all night." He 
 whistled again, and the head-waiter coughed in a 
 bewildered reply. " That's queer. Nothing was said 
 about coughing." 
 
 "Hello!" called the head-waiter. "Is it you, 
 sir? " 
 
 Joe Dauntless's cousin held his lantern on high and 
 finally discovered the waiter near the pile of cord- 
 wood, ready to run at a moment's notice. 
 
 " Who are you ? " demanded Mr. Carpenter.
 
 148 THE FLYERS 
 
 " Gustave. But you ain't the man." 
 
 " I ain't, eh? Didn't you whistle a minute ago? " 
 
 " I ain't supposed to. I cough. Say, do you 
 know if a wedding has taken place here? I am a 
 witness." 
 
 "Oh, I see. He said he'd bring one. Are you 
 alone?" 
 
 " I don't know. It feels like a crowd every time 
 I cough. Are you the preacher? " 
 
 " No, I'm the bridegroom's cousin. We've got to 
 get in through a window. I couldn't find my key. 
 Would you mind giving me a leg? " 
 
 " A leg? Nothing was said about legs," said the 
 waiter, moving away. Carpenter laughed. 
 
 " I mean a boost up to the window." 
 
 "Oh! Sure." 
 
 " There's one in the rear I can smash. We'll get 
 inside and light up. I can open the door from that 
 side, too. Come on follow me." They turned the 
 corner and followed the path so lately taken by Win- 
 domshire and Anne. As they came to the back of the 
 church they were startled and not a little alarmed 
 by the sound of sudden scurrying and a well-defined 
 imprecation, but it was too dark for them to dis- 
 tinguish any one. While they were trying to effect 
 an entrance through one of the windows, other 
 mystified participants in the night's affairs were look- 
 ing on from secret and divers hiding-places. Far out 
 in the little grove Derby and his old companion 
 watched the operations of the church-breakers, the 
 sickly glare of Carpenter's lantern as it stood upon
 
 THE FLYERS 149 
 
 the edge of the rain barrel affording an unholy light 
 for the occasion. Windomshire and Anne, crouching 
 behind a stack of old benches, looked on in amaze- 
 ment. Mr. Hooker, whose conscience was none too 
 easy, doubtless for excellent reasons, peered forth 
 from behind a tall tombstone. He had arrived at the 
 conclusion that he was being hounded down as a body- 
 snatcher. 
 
 " This is a devil of a mess," he muttered dolefully. 
 " If they catch me in this graveyard, I'll have a hard 
 time proving an alibi. What an idiot I was to get 
 into this thing ! I guess I'll get out of it. He's got 
 plenty of witnesses and I've got his ten dollars." He 
 began sneaking off toward the extreme west end of 
 the graveyard, bent on finding the road to town. 
 " Holy smoke ! " stopping short. " Another bunch 
 of them coming ! I'm surrounded ! " He dropped 
 down behind a weed-covered mound and glared 
 straight ahead. Almost directly in his path a lantern 
 wobbled and reeled slowly, finally bringing its bearer 
 to the fence between the burying-ground and the 
 churchyard. A man carried the light and half carried 
 the form of a woman besides. 
 
 "Brace up, Nell dear," Mr. Hooker heard the 
 newcomer say as tenderly as his exertions would 
 allow. " The worst is over. Here's the church. 
 Good Heavens, just think of being lost in a grave- 
 yard!" 
 
 "And climbing four fences and a tree," moaned 
 Eleanor Thursdale. They had come up through the 
 graveyard by mistake.
 
 150 THE FLYERS 
 
 "It wasn't a tree; it was a fence post. Great 
 Scot! There's no light in the church. What's up? 
 Wait here, dear, and I'll investigate." 
 
 " Alone? Never! " she cried. They climbed their 
 fifth fence, notwithstanding the fact that a gate was 
 near at hand. 
 
 " This is an awful pickle I've got you into. You 
 ought to hate me " he was groaning, but she checked 
 him nobly. 
 
 " Hush, Joe, I love it," she cried. 
 
 " You just wait and see how happy I'll make you 
 for this." He was about to kiss her rapturously, but 
 the act was stayed by the sound of a shrill whistle, 
 thrice given. " There's Jim Carpenter and Derby," 
 he exclaimed, and whistled in response. A moment 
 later Derby strolled up from the grove, followed by 
 the chattering Mr. Van Truder. 
 
 " That you, Joe? " 
 
 " Hello, Darb. Good! Where's Jim?" Someone 
 whistled sharply off to the left, and then Jim Car- 
 penter came hurrying up, the head-waiter close be- 
 hind. 
 
 " Hello, Joe. Say, has either of you been cough- 
 ing? " demanded Carpenter, his hair ready to stand 
 on end. 
 
 " I should say not," said Joe. " I've scarcely been 
 breathing." 
 
 " Then some ghost is having a hem'orrhage," said 
 the head-waiter, dismally. "Hello, Mr. ^Dauntless, 
 are you a witness too? " 
 
 " Say, Joe," said his cousin, quickly, " there's some-
 
 THE FLYERS 151 
 
 thing strange going on. The whole place is full of 
 people. I went back there to open a window and at 
 least two men coughed one of 'em sneezed. We're 
 being watched. This man says he heard a woman 
 back there, and I saw a funny kind of light in the 
 graveyard." 
 
 " Hang 'em ! " growled Joe. " We can't stop now. 
 Open up the church, Jim." 
 
 "Can't. Lost my key. Is this Miss Thursdale? 
 Glad to meet you. The window's the only way and 
 they're surely watching back there." 
 
 " Mamma has sent the officers after us," wailed 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Let's go home," said the waiter. "I didn't 
 agree to stay out all night." 
 
 "Agree? Aha, I see. You are a spy!" cried 
 Joe. 
 
 "A spy? I guess not. I'm a witness." 
 
 " It's the same thing," cackled Mr. Van Truder. 
 " You're a spy witness." 
 
 " Joe, isn't this fellow your witness ? " demanded 
 Carpenter. 
 
 " I should say not. Mr. Van Truder is mine." 
 
 " By George, I don't understand " 
 
 " Never mind, Jim, break into the church and let's 
 have it over with. It's going to rain again." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so tired," moaned the poor bride, mud- 
 spattered, wet, and very far from being the spick and 
 span young woman that fashionable society knew 
 and loved. 
 
 " By Jove ! " came suddenly from the darkness,
 
 152 THE FLYERS 
 
 startling the entire party a masculine voice full of 
 surprise and yes, consternation. Then there strode 
 into the circle of light a tall figure in a shimmering 
 mackintosh, closely followed by a young, resolute 
 woman. 
 
 " Windomshire ! " gasped Dauntless, leaping in 
 front of Eleanor, prepared to defend her with his life. 
 
 " Miss Courtenay, too," murmured Eleanor, peek- 
 ing under his arm. 
 
 " Yes, by Jove," announced the harassed English- 
 man, at bay, " Windomshire and Miss Courtenay." 
 There was a long silence a tableau, in fact. " Well, 
 why doesn't some one say something? You've got us, 
 don't you know." 
 
 Eleanor Thursdale was the first to find words. 
 She was faint with humiliation, but strong with the 
 new resolve. Coming forth from behind Dauntless, 
 she presented herself before the man her mother had 
 chosen. 
 
 " So you have found me out, Mr. Windomshire," 
 she said pleadingly, a wry little smile on her lips. 
 "You know all about it?" 
 
 " I er by Jove, this is quite beyond me. Found 
 you out? My word, you don't mean to say " 
 
 " I say, old man," said Dauntless, manfully, " let 
 me explain. We've always loved each other. It isn't 
 that she" 
 
 " Hang it all, man, I knew that," expostulated 
 Windomshire. " It was a mistake all around. I love 
 Anne, don't you know. There's no real harm done, 
 I'm sure. But what puzzles me is this : why does Miss
 
 THE FLYERS 153 
 
 Thursdale persist in pursuing us if she loves you and 
 doesn't care to marry me? " 
 
 "The deuce! I like that," cried Dauntless. 
 " You'd better begin by asking questions at home." 
 
 " I take it," interposed Mr. Derby, with rare tact 
 and discernment, " that both of you expect to be 
 married, but not to each other as originally planned." 
 Both Eleanor and Windomshire signified eager 
 affirmation in more ways than one. " Then it seems 
 to me a simple case of coincidence, which may be ex- 
 plained later on. Why discuss it now? I am in 
 reality a minister, Miss Courtenay, and I am here to 
 unite Miss Thursdale and Mr. Dauntless in the holy 
 bonds of matrimony. I trust we may expect no inter- 
 ference on the part of Mr. Windomshire? " 
 
 "Good Lord! No!" almost shouted Windom- 
 shire, clasping Anne's hand in a mighty grasp. 
 " That's what we are here for ourselves to be 
 married but the damned parson has deceived us." 
 
 Jim Carpenter came out of his trance at this. 
 " Say, are you the fellow Rev. Smith was to marry? 
 Well, he won't be here. There's a surprise pound 
 party at his house and the whole town is there. He 
 couldn't leave to save his soul. It's the way he gets 
 his living." 
 
 " Oh, Anne ! " cried Windomshire, in real despair. 
 
 Anne slipped into the breach with rare old English 
 fortitude. She addressed herself sweetly to Mr. 
 Derby. 
 
 " Mr. Derby, do you remember saying this after- 
 noon that you'd do anything in the world for me? "
 
 154 THE FLYERS 
 
 Mr. Derby blushed and looked most unworthy of his 
 calling, but managed to say that he would do any- 
 thing in the world for her. " Then, please take the 
 place of the minister who couldn't come." 
 
 " Good ! " cried Dauntless, almost dancing. 
 
 " I will, Miss Courtenay," said Derby. Windom- 
 shire grasped him by the hand, speechless with joy 
 and relief. 
 
 " I don't understand all this," complained Mr. Van 
 Truder, vainly trying to see the excited, jubilant 
 quartette. He only knew that they were all talking 
 at once, suddenly without restraint. " I wish my wife 
 were here ; she'd understand." 
 
 Jim Carpenter at last came to his senses and, 
 dragging the head-waiter after him, sped to the rear 
 of the church. A few minutes later lights flashed in 
 the windows and then the front door swung open. 
 Carpenter and Gustave stood smiling upon the 
 threshold. 
 
 " Enter ! " called out the former. As the group 
 quickly passed through the doorway, a long figure 
 ^climbed down from the fence hard by and ventured up 
 to the portal. It was Mr. Hooker, his face the 
 picture of bewilderment. 
 
 "Well, this beats me!" he ejaculated, leaning 
 against the door jamb; none of those at the altar 
 heard his remark. He stood there listening until the 
 last words of the service which united two couples 
 were uttered. Then he turned sorrowfully away and 
 started across the yard. The sound of a wedding 
 march played upon the wheezy cabinet organ by Jim
 
 THE FLYERS 155 
 
 Carpenter followed him into the gloom; above the 
 gasp of the organ was lifted the unmistakable chatter 
 of joyous voices. 
 
 As he passed through the gate a great vehicle 
 rolled up and stopped. It was drawn by two steam- 
 ing horses, and the waggon lanterns toid him that it 
 was the Somerset Hotel 'bus. " I'll ride back with 
 'em," he thought comfortably. 
 
 Some one climbed down from the rear of the 'bus> 
 assisted by two young men in brass buttons. Mr. 
 Hooker made way for a corpulent, puffing old lady. 
 She stopped in front of him and demanded in hot, 
 strident tones : 
 
 "Where is my husband?" 
 
 " Your husband? " repeated Mr. Hooker, politely. 
 " Madam, you can search me. There's a whole 
 churchful of husbands up there." 
 
 " You you " she sputtered. " Am I too late? 
 Support me, you fools," she cried to the two bell- 
 boys. They hurried across the churchyard, Mr. 
 Hooker following. At the doorway she stopped, glar- 
 ing hard at the well-lighted interior. " Mr. Van 
 Truder ! Mr. Van Truder ! " she called out angrily, 
 but her joyful other half did not hear her. He was 
 trying at that moment to organise the ccmpany into 
 a wedding procession. 
 
 " Say," said Mr. Hooker, " maybe you'd better 
 cough three times."
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 Young Rossiter did not like the task. The more 
 he thought of it as he whirled northward on the 
 Empire State Express the more distasteful it seemed 
 to grow. 
 
 "Hang it all," he thought, throwing down his 
 magazine in disgust, " it's like police work. And 
 heaven knows I haven't wanted to be a cop since we 
 lived in Newark twenty years ago. Why the dickens 
 did old Wharton marry her? He's an old ass, and 
 he's getting just what he might have expected. She's 
 twenty-five and beautiful; he's seventy and a sight. 
 I've a notion to chuck the whole affair and go back 
 to the simple but virtuous Tenderloin. It's not my 
 sort, that's all, and I was an idiot for mixing in it. 
 The firm served me a shabby trick when it sent me out 
 to work up this case for Wharton. It's a regular 
 Peeping Tom job, and I don't like it." 
 
 It will require but few words to explain Sam 
 Rossiter's presence in the north-bound Empire Ex- 
 press, but it would take volumes to express his feel- 
 ings on the subject in general. Back in New York 
 there lived Godfrey Wharton, millionaire and 
 157
 
 158 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 septuagenarian. For two years he had been husband 
 to one of the prettiest, gayest young women in the 
 city, and in the latter days of this responsibility he 
 was not a happy man. His wife had fallen desper- 
 ately, even conspicuously, in love with Everett 
 Havens, the new leading man at one of the fashion- 
 able playhouses. The affair had been going on for 
 weeks, and it had at last become the talk of the town. 
 By " the town " is meant that vague, expansive thing 
 known as the " Four Hundred." Sam Rossiter, two 
 years out of Yale, was an attachment to, but not a 
 component part of, the Four Hundred. The 
 Whartons were of the inner circle. 
 
 Young Rossiter was ambitious. He was, besides, 
 keen, aggressive, and determined to make well for him- 
 self. Entering the great law offices of G rover & 
 Dickhut immediately after leaving college, he devoted 
 himself assiduously to the career in prospect. He 
 began by making its foundation as substantial as 
 brains and energy would permit. So earnest, so suc- 
 cessful was he that Grover & Dickhut regarded him 
 as the most promising young man in New York. 
 They predicted a great future for him, no small part 
 of which was the ultimate alteration of an office 
 shingle, the name of Rossiter going up in gilt, after 
 that of Dickhut. And, above all, Rossiter was a 
 handsome, likable chap. Tall, fair, sunny-hearted, 
 well groomed, he was a fellow that both sexes liked 
 without much effort. 
 
 The Wharton trouble was bound to prove startling 
 any way one looked at it. The prominence of the
 
 HELEN
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 159 
 
 family, the baldness of its skeleton, and the gleeful 
 eagerness with which it danced into full view left but 
 little for meddlers to covet. A crash was inevitable ; 
 it was the clash that Grover & Dickhut were trying 
 to avert. Old Wharton, worn to a slimmer frazzle 
 than he had ever been before his luckless marriage, 
 was determined to divorce his insolent younger half. 
 It was to be done with as little noise as possible, 
 more for his own sake than for hers. Wharton was 
 proud in, not of, his weakness. 
 
 It became necessary to " shadow " the fair 
 debutante into matrimony. After weeks of indecision 
 Mr. Wharton finally arose and swore in accents ter- 
 rible that she was going too far to be called back. 
 He determined to push, not to pull, on the reins. 
 Grover & Dickhut were commanded to get the " evi- 
 dence " ; he would pay. When he burst in upon them 
 and cried in his cracked treble that " the devil's to 
 pay," he did not mean to cast any aspersion upon the 
 profession in general or particular. He was annoyed. 
 
 " She's going away next week," he exclaimed, as if 
 the lawyers were to blame for it. 
 
 "Well, and what of it?" asked Mr. Grover 
 blandly. 
 
 " Up into the mountains," went on Mr. Wharton 
 triumphantly. 
 
 " Is it against the law? " smiled the old lawyer. 
 
 " Confound the law! I don't object to her going 
 up into the mountains for a rest, but " 
 
 " It's much too hot in town for her, I fancy." 
 
 " How's that? " querulously. " But I've just heard
 
 160 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 that that scoundrel Havens is going to the moun- 
 tains also." 
 
 " The same mountain ? " 
 
 " Certainly. I have absolute proof of it. Now, 
 something has to be done ! " 
 
 And so it was that the promising young lawyer, 
 Samuel W. Rossiter, Jr., was sent northward into the 
 Adirondacks one hot summer day with instructions 
 to be tactful but thorough. He had never seen Mrs. 
 Wharton, nor had he seen Havens. There was no 
 time to look up these rather important details, for he 
 was off to intercept her at the little station from 
 which one drove by coach to the quiet summer hotel 
 among the clouds. She was starting the same after- 
 noon. He found himself wondering whether this 
 petted butterfly of fashion had ever seen him, and, 
 seeing him, had been sufficiently interested to inquire, 
 " Who is that tall fellow with the light hair? " It 
 would be difficult to perform the duties assigned to 
 him if either she or Havens knew him for what he 
 was. His pride would have been deeply wounded if 
 he had known that Grover & Dickhut recommended 
 him to Wharton as " obscure." 
 
 " They say she is a howling beauty as well as a 
 swell," reflected Rossiter, as the miles and minutes 
 went swinging by. "And that's something to be 
 thankful for. One likes novelty, especially if it's 
 feminine. Well, I'm out for the sole purpose of sav- 
 ing a million or so for old Wharton, and to save as 
 much of her reputation as I can besides. With the 
 proof in hand the old duffer can scare her out of any
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 161 
 
 claim against his bank account, and she shall have 
 the absolute promise of * no exposure ' in return. 
 Isn't it lovely? Well, here's Albany. Now for the 
 dinky road up to Fossingford Station. I have an 
 hour's wait here. She's coming on the afternoon 
 train and gets to Fossingford at eleven-ten to-night. 
 That's a dickens of a time for a young woman to be 
 arriving anywhere, to say nothing of Fossingford." 
 
 Loafing about the depot at Albany, Rossiter kept 
 a close lookout for Mrs. Wharton as he pictured her 
 from the description he carried in his mind's eye. 
 Her venerable husband informed him that she was 
 sure to wear a white shirt-waist, a gray skirt, and a 
 Knox sailor hat, because her maid had told him so in 
 a huff. But he was to identify her chiefly by means 
 of a handsome and oddly trimmed parasol of deep 
 purple. Wharton had every reason to suspect that 
 it was a present from Havens, and therefore to be 
 carried more for sentiment than protection. 
 
 A telegram awaited him at Fossingford Station. 
 Fossingford was so small and unsophisticated that 
 the arrival of a telegraphic message that did not 
 relate to the movement of railroad trains was an 
 " occasion." Everybody in town knew that a message 
 had come for Samuel Rossiter, and everybody was at 
 the depot to see that he got it. The station agent 
 had inquired at the " eating-house " for the gentle- 
 man, and that was enough. With the eyes of a 
 Fossingford score or two upon him, Rossiter read the 
 despatch from Grover & Dickhut. 
 
 "Too bad, ain't it?" asked the agent, compas-
 
 162 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 sionately regarding the newcomer. Evidently the 
 contents were supposed to be disappointing. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," replied Rossiter easily. But 
 just the same he was troubled in mind as he walked 
 over and sat down upon his steamer trunk in the 
 shade of the building. The telegram read: 
 
 "She left New York five-thirty this evening. 
 Stops over night Albany. Fossingford to-morrow 
 morning. Watch trains. Purple parasol. Sailor 
 hat. Gray travelling suit. 
 
 G. and D." 
 
 It meant that he would be obliged to stay in 
 Fossingford all night but where? A general but 
 comprehensive glance did not reveal anything that 
 looked like a hotel. He thought of going back to 
 Albany for the night, but it suddenly occurred to him 
 that she might not stop in that city, after all. Pull- 
 ing his wits together, he saw things with a new clear- 
 ness of vision. Ostensibly she had announced her in- 
 tention to spend the month at Eagle Nest, an ob- 
 scure but delightful hotel in the hills; but did that 
 really mean that she would go there? It was doubt- 
 less a ruse to throw the husband off the track. There 
 were scores of places in the mountains, and it was 
 more than probable that she would give Eagle Nest 
 a wide berth. Rossiter patted his bump of perceptive- 
 ness and smiled serenely until he came plump up 
 against the realization that she might not come by 
 way of Fossingford at all, or, in any event, she might
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 163 
 
 go whisking through to some station farther north. 
 His speculations came to an end in the shape of a 
 distressing resolution. He would remain in Fossing- 
 ford and watch the trains go by! 
 
 After he had dashed through several early even- 
 ing trains, the cheerful, philosophical smile of courage 
 left his face and trouble stared from his eyes. He 
 saw awkward prospects ahead. Suppose she were to 
 pass through on one of the late night trains! He 
 could not rush through the sleepers, even though the 
 trains stopped in Fossingford for water. Besides, 
 she could not be identified by means of a gray suit, a 
 sailor hat, and a purple parasol if they were tucked 
 away in the berth. At eleven o'clock he was pacing 
 the little depot platform, waiting for the eleven-ten 
 train, the last he was to inspect for the night. He 
 had eaten a scanty meal at the restaurant nearby, 
 and was still mad about it. The station agent slept 
 soundly at his post, and all the rest of the town had 
 gone to bed. 
 
 The train pulled in and out again, leaving him at 
 the far end of the platform, mopping his harassed 
 brow. He had visited the chair-cars and had seen 
 no one answering the description. A half-dozen pas- 
 sengers huddled off and wandered away in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 " I'll bet my head she's in one of those sleepers," 
 he groaned, as he watched the lights on the rear 
 coach fade away into the night. "It's all off till 
 to-morrow, that's settled. My only hope is that she 
 really stopped in Albany. There's a train through
 
 164 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 here at three in the morning; but I'm not detective 
 enough to unravel the mystery of any woman's berth. 
 Now, where the deuce am / to sleep ? " 
 
 As he looked about dismally, disconsolately, his 
 hands deep in his pockets, his straw hat pulled low 
 over his sleepy eyes, the station agent came up to him 
 with a knowing grin on his face. 
 
 " 'Scuse me, boss, but she's come," he said, wink- 
 ing. 
 
 "She? Who?" 
 
 "Her. The young lady. Sure! She's lookin' fer 
 you over in the waitin'-room. You mus' 'a' missed 
 her when she got off thought she wasn't comin' up 
 till to-morrer. Mus' 'a' changed her mind. That's 
 a woming all over, ain't it? " 
 
 Rossiter felt himself turn hot and cold. His head 
 began to whirl and his courage went fluttering away. 
 Here was a queer complication. The quarry hunting 
 for the sleuth, instead of the reverse. He fanned 
 himself with his hat for one brief, uncertain moment, 
 dazed beyond belief. Then he resolutely strode over 
 to face the situation, trusting to luck to keep him 
 from blundering his game into her hands. Just as 
 he was about to put his foot upon the lamp-lit door- 
 sill the solution struck him like a blow. She was ex- 
 pecting Havens to meet her ! 
 
 There was but one woman in the room, and she 
 was approaching the door with evident impatience 
 as he entered. Both stopped short, she with a look 
 of surprise, which changed to annoyance and then 
 crept into an nervous, apologetic little smile ; he with
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 165 
 
 an unsuppressed ejaculation. She wore a gray skirt, 
 a white waist, and a sailor hat, and she was surpass- 
 ingly good to look at even in the trying light from 
 the overhead lamp. Instinctively his eye swept over 
 her. She carried on her arm the light gray jacket, 
 and in one hand was the tightly rolled parasol of 
 he impertinently craned his neck to see of purple! 
 Mr. Rossiter was face to face with the woman he was 
 to dog for a month, and he was flabbergasted. Even 
 as he stopped, puzzled, before her, contemplating 
 retreat, she spoke to him. 
 
 " Did that man send you to me? " she asked nerv- 
 ously, looking through the door beyond and then 
 through a window at his right, quite puzzled, he 
 could see. 
 
 " He did, and I was sure he was mistaken. I knew 
 of no one in this Godforsaken place who could be 
 asking for me," said he, collecting his wits carefully 
 and herding them into that one sentence. " But 
 perhaps I can help you. Will you tell me whom I 
 am to look for?" 
 
 "It is strange he is not here," she said a little 
 breathlessly. " I wired him just what train to ex- 
 pect me on." 
 
 "Your husband?" ventured he admirably* 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " said she quickly. 
 
 " I wish she'd wired me what train to expect her 
 on," thought he grimly. " She doesn't know me. 
 That's good. She was expecting Havens and he's 
 missed connections somehow," shot rapidly through 
 his brain. At the same time he was thinking of her
 
 166 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 as the prettiest woman he had seen in all his life. 
 Then aloud: "I'll look on the platform. Maybe 
 he's lost in this great city. What name shall I call 
 out?" 
 
 " Please don't call very loudly. You'll wake the 
 dead," she said, with a pathetic smile. " It's awfully 
 good of you. He may come at any minute, you 
 know. His name is is " she hesitated for a second, 
 and then went on determinedly " Dudley. Tall, 
 dark man. I don't know how I shall thank you. 
 It's so very awkward." 
 
 Rossiter darted from her glorious but perplexed 
 presence. He had never seen Havens, but he was 
 sure he could recognize an actor if he saw him in Fos- 
 singford. And he would call him Dudley, too. It 
 would be wise. The search was fruitless. The only 
 tall, dark object he saw was the mailcrane at the edge 
 of the platform, but he facetiously asked if its name 
 was Dudley. Receiving no answer, he turned back 
 to cast additional woe into the heart of the pretty 
 intriguer. She was standing in the door, despair 
 in her eyes. Somehow he was pleased because he 
 had not found the wretch. She was so fair to look 
 upon and so appealing in her distress. 
 
 " You couldn't find him? What am I to do? Oh, 
 isn't it awful? He promised to be here." 
 
 " Perhaps he's at a hotel." 
 
 " In Fossingford? " in deep disgust. " There's no 
 hotel here. He was to drive me to the home of a 
 friend out in the country." Rossiter leaned against 
 the wall suddenly. There was a long silence. He
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 167 
 
 could not find his tongue, but his eyes were burning 
 ' deep into the plaintive blue ones that looked up into 
 his face. 
 
 " I'll ask the agent," he said at last. 
 
 " Ask him what ? " she cried anxiously. 
 
 " If he's been here. No, I'll ask if there's a place 
 where you can sleep to-night. Mr. Dudley will surely 
 turn up to-morrow." 
 
 " But I couldn't sleep a wink. I feel like crying my 
 eyes out," she wailed. 
 
 " Don't do that ! " exclaimed he, in alarm. " I'll 
 take another look outside." 
 
 " Please don't. He is not here. Will you please 
 tell me what I am to do? " very much as if it was 
 his business to provide for her in the hour of need. 
 
 Rossiter promptly awoke the agent and asked 
 him where a room could be procured for the lady. 
 Doxie's boarding-house was the only place, accord- 
 ing to the agent, and it was full to overflowing. Be- 
 sides, they would not " take in " strange women. 
 
 " She can sleep here in the waiting-room," sug- 
 gested the agent. " They'll let you sleep in the parlor 
 over at Doxie's, mister maybe." 
 
 Rossiter did not have the heart to tell her all that 
 the agent said. He merely announced that there was 
 no hotel except the depot waiting-room. 
 
 " By the way, does Mr. Dudley live out in the 
 country? " he asked insidiously. She flushed and 
 then looked at him narrowly. 
 
 " No. He's visiting his uncle up here." 
 
 " Funny he missed you."
 
 168 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 "It's terribly annoying," she said coldly. Then 
 she walked away from him as if suddenly conscious 
 that she should not be conversing with a good-looking 
 stranger as such a time and place and under such 
 peculiar circumstances. He withdrew to the plat- 
 form and his own reflections. 
 
 " He's an infernal cad for not meeting her," he 
 found himself saying, her pretty, distressed face still 
 before him. " I don't care a rap whether she's doing 
 right or wrong she's game. Still, she's a blamed 
 little fool to be travelling up here on such an out- 
 landish train. So he's visiting an uncle, eh? Then 
 the chances are they're not going to Eagle Nest. 
 Lucky I waited here I'd have lost them entirely 
 if I'd gone back to Albany. But where the deuce is 
 she to sleep till morn " He heard rapid footsteps 
 behind him and turned to distinguish Mrs. Wharton 
 as she approached dimly but gracefully. The air 
 seemed full of her. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Mr. " she was saying eagerly. 
 
 " Rollins." 
 
 " Isn't there a later train, Mr. Rollins? " 
 
 " I'll ask the agent." 
 
 " There's the flyer at three-thirty A. M.," responded 
 the sleepy agent a minute later. 
 
 '* I'll just sit up and wait for it," she said coolly. 
 " He has got the trains confused." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Till three-thirty? " 
 
 " But my dear Mr. Rollins, you won't be obliged 
 to sit up, you know. You're not expecting any one, 
 are you ? "
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 169 
 
 " N-no, of course not." 
 
 "By the way, why are you staying up?" He 
 was sure he detected alarm in the question. She 
 was suspecting him! 
 
 " I have nowhere to go, Miss Mrs. er " She 
 merely smiled and he said something under his breath. 
 " I'm waiting for the eight o'clock train." 
 
 "How lovely! What time will the three-thirty 
 train get here, agent ? " 
 
 "At half-past three, I reckon. But she don't 
 stop here ! " 
 
 " Oh, goodness ! Can't you flag it her, I mean ? " 
 
 "What's the use?" asked Rossiter. "He's not 
 coming on it, is he? " 
 
 " That's so. He's coming in a buggy. You needn't 
 mind flagging her, agent." 
 
 " Well, say, I'd like to lock up the place," grum- 
 bled the agent. " There's no more trains to-night 
 but Number Seventeen, and she don't even whistle 
 here. I can't set up here all night." 
 
 " Oh, you wouldn't lock me out in the night, would 
 you?" she cried in such pretty despair that he 
 faltered. 
 
 " I got to git home to my wife. She's " 
 
 "That's all right, agent," broke in Rossiter 
 hastily. " I'll take your place as agent. Leave the 
 doors open and I'll go on watch. I have to stay up 
 anyway." 
 
 There was a long silence. He did not know whether 
 she was freezing or warming toward him, because he 
 dared not look into her eyes.
 
 170 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 " I don't know who you are," she said distinctly 
 but plaintively. It was very dark out there on the 
 platform and the night air was growing cold. 
 
 " It is the misfortune of obscurity," he said mock- 
 ingly. " I am a most humble wayfarer on his way 
 to the high hills. If it will make you feel any more 
 comfortable, madam, I will say that I don't know 
 who you are. So, you see, we are in the same boat. 
 You are waiting for a man and I am waiting for day- 
 light. I sincerely trust you may not hare as long to 
 wait as I. Believe me, I regard myself as a gentle- 
 man. You are quite as safe with me as you will be 
 with the agent, or with Mr. Mr. Dudley, for that 
 matter." 
 
 "You may go home to your wife, Mr. Agent," 
 she said promptly. " Mr. Rollins will let the trains 
 through, I'm sure." 
 
 The agent stalked away in the night and the 
 diminutive station was left to the mercy of the way- 
 farers. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Rollins, you may go over in that 
 corner and stretch out on the bench. It will be 
 springless, I know, but I fancy you can sleep. I 
 will call you for the for breakfast." 
 
 " I'm hanged if you do. On the contrary, I'm 
 going to do my best to fix a comfortable place for 
 you to take a nap. I'll call you when Mr. Dudley 
 comes." 
 
 " It's most provoking of him," she said, as he began 
 rummaging through his steamer trunk. " What are 
 you doing? "
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 171 
 
 " Hunting out something to make over into a mat- 
 tress. You don't mind napping on my clothes, do 
 you? Here's a soft suit of flannels, a heavy suit 
 of cheviot, a dress suit, a spring coat, and a rain- 
 coat. I can rig up a downy couch in no time if " 
 
 " Ridiculous ! Do you imagine that I'm going to 
 sleep on your best clothes? I'm going to sit up." 
 
 " You'll have to do as I say, madam, or be turned 
 out of the hotel," said he, with an infectious grin. 
 
 " But I insist upon your lying down. You have 
 no reason for doing this for me. Besides, I'm going 
 to sit up. Good-night ! " 
 
 " You are tired and ready to cry," he said, calmly 
 going on with his preparations. She stood off de- 
 fiantly and watched him pile his best clothes into a 
 rather comfortable-looking heap on one of the long 
 benches. " Now, if you don't mind, I'll make a pillow 
 of these negligee shirts. They're soft, you know." 
 
 " Stop ! I refuse to accept your " she was pro- 
 testing. 
 
 " Do Jfou want me to leave you here all alone? " 
 he demanded. " With the country full of tramps 
 and " 
 
 " Don't ! It's cowardly of you to frighten me. 
 They say the railroads are swarming with tramps, 
 too. Won't you please go and see if Mr. Dudley is 
 anywhere in sight? " 
 
 " It was mean of me, I confess. Please lie down. 
 It's getting cold. Pull this raincoat over yourself. 
 I'll walk out and " 
 
 " Oh, but you are a determined person. And very
 
 172 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 foolish, too. Why should you lose a lot of sleep 
 just for me when ? " 
 
 "There is no reason why two men should fail 
 you to-night, Mrs. Miss " 
 
 " Miss Bering," she said, humbled. 
 
 " When you choose to retire, Miss Bering, you will 
 find your room quite ready, he said with fine gal- 
 lantry, bowing low as he stood in the doorway. " I 
 will be just outside on the platform, so don't be un- 
 easy." 
 
 He quickly faded into the night, leaving her stand- 
 ing there, petulant, furious, yet with admiration in 
 her eyes. Ten minutes later he heard her call. She 
 was sitting on the edge of the improvised couch, 
 smiling sweetly, even timidly. 
 
 " It must be cold out there. You must wear 
 this." 
 
 She came toward him, the raincoat in one hand, 
 the purple parasol in the other. He took the parasol 
 only and departed without a word. She gasped and 
 would have called after him, but there was no use. 
 With a perplexed frown and smile she went slowly, 
 dubiously toward the folded bed. 
 
 Rossiter smoked three cigars and walked two miles 
 up and down the platform, swinging the parasol 
 absent-mindedly, before he ventured to look inside 
 the room again. In that time he had asked and 
 answered many questions in his mind. He saw that 
 it would be necessary to change his plans if he was 
 to watch her successfully. She evidently gave out 
 Eagle Nest to blind her husband. Somehow he was
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 173 
 
 forgetting that the task before him was disagreeable 
 and undignified. What troubled him most was how 
 to follow them if Havens or Dudley put in an 
 appearance for the three-thirty train. He began 
 to curse Everett Havens softly but potently. 
 
 When he looked into the waiting-room she was 
 sound asleep on the bench. It delighted him to see 
 that she had taken him at his word and was lying 
 upon his clothes. Cautiously he took a seat on the 
 door-sill. The night was as still as death and as 
 lonesome as the grave. For half an hour he sat 
 gazing upon the tired, pretty face and the lithe 
 young figure of the sleeper. He found himself dream- 
 ing, although he was wide awake never more so. It 
 occurred to him that he would be immensely pleased to 
 hear that Havens's reason for failing her was due to 
 an accident in which he had been killed. 
 
 " Those clothes will have to be pressed the first 
 thing to-morrow," he said to himself, but without a 
 trace of annoyance. " Hang it all, she doesn't look 
 like that sort of woman," his mind switched. " But 
 just think of being tied up to an old crocodile like 
 Wharton ! Gee ! One oughtn't to blame her! " 
 
 Then he went forth into the night once more and 
 listened for the sound of buggy wheels. It was al- 
 most time for the arrival of the belated man from 
 the country, and he was beginning to pray that he 
 would not appear at all. It came to his mind that 
 he should advise her to return to New York in the 
 morning. At last his watch told him that the train 
 was due to pass in five minutes. And still no buggy !
 
 174. THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 Good! He felt an exhilaration that threatened to 
 break into song. 
 
 Softly he stole back into the waiting-room, pre- 
 pared to awaken her before the train shot by. Some- 
 thing told him that the rumble and roar would terrify 
 her if she were asleep. Going quite close to her he 
 bent forward and looked long and sadly upon the 
 perfect face. Her hair was somewhat disarranged, 
 her hat had a very hopeless tilt, her lashes swept 
 low over the smooth cheek, but there was an almost 
 imperceptible choke in her breathing. In her small 
 white hand she clasped a handkerchief tightly, and 
 yes, he was sure of it there were tear-stains 
 beneath her lashes. There came to him the faint sob 
 which lingers long in the breath of one who has cried 
 herself to sleep. The spy passed his hand over his 
 brow, sighed, shook his head and turned away irre- 
 solutely. He remembered that she was waiting for 
 a man who was not her husband. 
 
 Far down the track a bright star came shooting to- 
 ward Fossingford. He knew it to be the headlight 
 of the flyer. With a breath of relief he saw that he 
 was the only human being on the platform. Havens 
 had failed again. This time he approached the re- 
 cumbent one determinedly. She was awake the in- 
 stant he touched her shoulder. 
 
 " Oh," she murmured, sitting erect and looking 
 about, bewildered. " Is it has he oh, you are still 
 here? Has he come? " 
 
 "No, Miss Bering, he is not here," and added,
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 175 
 
 under his breath, " damn him ! " Then aloud, " The 
 train is coming." 
 
 "And he didn't come?" she almost wailed. 
 
 " I fancy you'd better try to sleep until morning. 
 There's nothing to stay awake for," although it came 
 with a pang. 
 
 "Absolutely nothing," she murmured, and his 
 pride took a respectful tumble. As she began to re- 
 arrange her hair, rather clumsily spoiling a charm- 
 ing effect, he remonstrated. 
 
 " Don't bother about your hair." She looked at 
 him in wonder for an instant, a little smile finally 
 creeping to her lips. He felt that she understood 
 something. " Maybe he'll come after all," he added 
 quickly. 
 
 " What are you doing with my parasol? " she 
 asked sleepily. 
 
 " I'm carrying it to establish your identity with 
 Dudley if he happens to come. He'll recognize the 
 purple parasol, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I see," she said dubiously. " He gave it to 
 me for a birthday present." 
 
 " I knew it," he muttered. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I mean I knew he'd recognize it," he explained. 
 
 The flyer shot through Fossingford at that junc- 
 ture, a long line of roaring shadows. There was 
 silence between them until the rumble was lost in the 
 distance. 
 
 " If you don't mind, I'd like to go out on the plat- 
 form for awhile," she said finally, resignation in her
 
 176 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 eyes. " Perhaps he's out there, wondering why the 
 train didn't stop." 
 
 " It's cold out there. Just slip into my coat, Miss 
 Dering." He held the raincoat for her, and she 
 mechanically slipped her arms into the sleeves. She 
 shivered, but smiled sweetly up at him. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Rollins, you are very thought- 
 ful and very kind to me." 
 
 They walked out into the darkness. After a turn 
 or two in silence she took the arm he proffered. He 
 admired the bravery with which she was trying to con- 
 vince him that she was not so bitterly disappointed. 
 When she finally spoke her voice was soft and cool, 
 just as a woman's always is before the break. 
 
 " He was to have taken me to his uncle's house, 
 six miles up in the country. His aunt and a young 
 lady from the South, with Mr. Dudley and me, are 
 to go to Eagle Nest to-morrow for a month." 
 
 " How very odd," he said with well-assumed sur- 
 prise. " I, too, am going to Eagle Nest for a month 
 or so." 
 
 She stopped stock-still, and he could feel that she 
 was staring at him hardly. 
 
 " You are going there ? " she half whispered. 
 
 "They say it is a quiet, restful place," he said. 
 " One reaches it by stage overland, I believe." She 
 was strangely silent during the remainder of the 
 walk. Somehow he felt amazingly sorry for her. 
 " I hope I may see something of you while we are 
 there," he said at last. 
 
 "I imagine I couldn't help it if I were to try,"
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 177 
 
 she said. They were in the path of the light from 
 the window, and he saw the strange little smile on 
 her face. " I think I'll lie down again. Won't you 
 find a place to sleep, Mr. Rollins? I can't bear the 
 thought of depriving you " 
 
 " I am the slave of your darkness," he said gravely. 
 
 She left him, and he lit another cigar. Daylight 
 came at last to break up his thoughts, and then 
 his tired eyes began to look for the man and buggy. 
 Fatigued and weary, he sat upon his steamer trunk, 
 his back to the wall. There he fell sound asleep. 
 
 He was awakened by some one shaking him gently 
 by the shoulder. 
 
 " You are a very sound sleeper, Mr. Rollins," said 
 a familiar voice, but it was gay and sprightly. He 
 looked up blankly, and it was a full half-minute 
 before he could get his bearings. 
 
 A young woman with a purple parasol stood be- 
 side him, laughing merrily, and at her side was a 
 tall, dark, very good-looking young man. 
 
 " I couldn't go without saying good-by to you, 
 Mr. Rollins, and thanking you again for the care you 
 have taken of me," she was saying. He finally saw 
 the little gloved hand that was extended toward him. 
 Her companion was carrying her jacket and the little 
 travelling-bag. 
 
 " Oh er good-by, and don't mention it," he 
 stammered, struggling to his feet. " Was I asleep ? " 
 
 " Asleep at your post, sir. Mr. Dudley oh, this 
 is Mr. Dudley, Mr. Rollins came in ten minutes 
 ago and found us both asleep."
 
 178 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 " Isn't it lucky Mr. Dudley happens to be an honest 
 man? " said Rossiter, in a manner so strange that 
 the smile froze on the face of the other man. The 
 unhappy barrister caught the quick glance that 
 passed between them, and was vaguely convinced 
 that they had been discussing him while he slept. 
 Something whispered to him that they had guessed 
 the nature of his business. 
 
 " My telegram was not delivered to him until this 
 morning. Wasn't it provoking? " she was saying. 
 
 " What time is it now? " asked Rossiter. 
 
 " Half-past seven," responded Dudley rather 
 sharply. His black eyes were fastened steadily upon 
 those of the questioner. " Mr. Van Haltford's man 
 came in and got Miss Dering's telegram yesterday, 
 but it was not delivered to me until a neighbor came 
 to the house with both the message and messenger 
 in charge. Joseph had drunk all the whisky in Fos- 
 singford. 
 
 " Then there's no chance for me to get a drink, 
 I suppose," said Rossiter with a wry smile. 
 
 "Do you need one?" asked Miss Dering saucily. 
 
 " I have a headache." 
 
 "A pick-me-up is what you want," said Dudley 
 coldly. 
 
 "My dear sir, I haven't been drunk," remon- 
 strated Rossiter sharply. His hearers laughed and 
 he turned red but cold with resentment. 
 
 " See, Mr. Rollins, I have smoothed out your 
 clothes and folded them," she said, pointing to her 
 one-time couch. "I couldn't pack them in your
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 179 
 
 trunk because you were sitting on it. Shall I help 
 you now? " 
 
 "No, I thank you," he said ungraciously. "I 
 can toss 'em in any old way." 
 
 He set about doing it without another word. His 
 companions stood over near the window and con- 
 versed earnestly in words too low for him to distin- 
 guish. From the corner of his eye he could see that 
 Dudley's face was hard and uncompromising, while 
 hers was eager and imploring. The man was stub- 
 bornly objecting to something, and she was just 
 as decided in an opposite direction. 
 
 " He's finding fault and she's trying to square 
 it with him. Oh, my beauties, you'll have a hard 
 time to shake off one Samuel Rossiter. They're 
 suspicious or he is, at least. Some one has tipped 
 me off to them, I fancy." 
 
 " I'm sorry they are so badly mussed, Mr. Rollins, 
 but they did make a very comfortable bed," she said, 
 walking over to him. Her cheeks were flushed and 
 her eyes were gleaming. " You are going to Eagle 
 Nest to-day?" 
 
 " Just as soon as I can get a conveyance. There 
 is a stage-coach at nine, Miss Dering." 
 
 " We will have room for you on our break," she 
 said simply. Her eyes met his bravely and then 
 wavered. Rossiter's heart gave a mighty leap. 
 
 " Permit me to second Miss Dering's invitation," 
 said Dudley, coming over. The suggestion of a 
 frown on his face made Rossiter only too eager to 
 accept the unexpected invitation. "My aunt and
 
 180 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 Miss Croizer are outside with the coachman. You 
 can have your luggage sent over in the stage. It is 
 fourteen miles by road, so we should be under way, 
 Mr. Rollins." 
 
 As Rossiter followed them across the platform he 
 was saying to himself: 
 
 " Well, the game's on. Here's where I begin to 
 earn my salary. I'll hang out my sign when I get 
 back to New York : * Police Spying. Satisfaction 
 guaranteed. References given.' Hang it all, I hate 
 to do this to her. She's an awfully good sort, and 
 and But I don't like this damned Havens ! " 
 
 Almost before he knew it he was being presented to 
 two handsome, fashionably dressed young women who 
 sat together in the rear seat of the big mountain 
 break. 
 
 " Every cloud has its silver lining," Miss Bering 
 was saying. " Let me present you to Mr. Dudley's 
 aunt, Mrs. Van Haltford, and to Miss Crozier, Mr. 
 Rollins." 
 
 In a perfect maze of emotions, he found himself 
 bowing before the two ladies, who smiled distantly 
 and uncertainly. Dudley's aunt? That dashing 
 young creature his aunt? Rossiter was staggered by 
 the boldness of the claim. He could scarce restrain 
 the scornful, brutal laugh of derision at this ridic- 
 ulous play upon his credulity. To his secret satis- 
 faction he discovered that the entire party seemed 
 nervous and ill at ease. There was a trace of con- 
 fusion in their behavior. He heard Miss Dering ex- 
 plain that he was to accompany the party and he saw
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 181 
 
 the poorly concealed look of disapproval and polite 
 inquiry that went beween the two ladies and Dudley. 
 There was nothing for it, however, now that Miss 
 Bering had committed herself, and he was advised to 
 look to his luggage without delay. 
 
 He hurried into the station to arrange for the 
 transportation of his trunk by stage, all the while 
 smiling maliciously in his sleeve. Looking surrepti- 
 tiously from a window he saw the quartet, all of them 
 now on the break, arguing earnestly over him, he 
 was sure. Miss Dering was plaintively facing the dis- 
 pleasure of the trio. The coachman's averted face 
 wore a half-grin. The discussion ended abruptly as 
 Rossiter reappeared, but there was a coldness in the 
 air that did not fail to impress him as portentous. 
 
 " I'm the elephant on their hands the proverbial 
 hot coal," he thought wickedly. " Well, they've got 
 to bear it even if they can't grin. Then aloud 
 cheerily: "All aboard! We're off!" He took his 
 seat beside the driver.
 
 182 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 The events of the ensuing weeks are best chronicled 
 by the reproduction of Rossiter's own diary or re- 
 port, with liberties in the shape of an author's com- 
 ments. 
 
 THURSDAY. 
 
 " Settled comfortably in Eagle Nest House. 
 Devilish rugged and out-of-the way place. Mrs. Van 
 Haltford is called Aunt Josephine. She and Miss 
 Debby Crozier have rooms on the third floor. Mine is 
 next to theirs, Havens's is next to mine, and Mrs. 
 Wharton has two rooms beyond his. We are not 
 unlike a big family party. They're rather nice to 
 me. I go walking with Aunt Josephine. I don't 
 understand why I'm sandwiched in between Havens 
 and Aunt Josephine. Otherwise the arrangement is 
 neat. There is a veranda outside our windows. We 
 sit upon it. Aunt Josephine is a great bluff, but she's 
 clever. She's never napping. I've tried to pump 
 her. Miss Crozier is harmless. She doesn't care. 
 Havens never takes his eyes off Mrs. W. when they 
 are together. She looks at him a good bit, too. 
 They don't pay much attention to me. Aunt 
 Josephine's husband is very old and very busy. He
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 183 
 
 can't take vacations. Everybody went to bed early 
 to-night. No evidence to-day." 
 
 FRIDAY NIGHT. 
 
 " Havens and Mrs. W. went hill-climbing this 
 afternoon and were gone for an hour before I missed 
 them. Then I took Aunt Jo and Debby out for a 
 quick climb. Confound Aunt Jo ! She got tired in ten 
 minutes and Debby wouldn't go on without her. I 
 think it was a put-up job. The others didn't return 
 till after six. She asked me if I'd like to walk about 
 the grounds after dinner. Said I would. We did. 
 Havens went with us. Couldn't shake him to save 
 my life." 
 
 SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 " I have to watch myself constantly to keep from 
 calling her Mrs. Wharton. I believe writing her 
 real name is bad policy. It makes me forget. After 
 this I shall call her Miss Dering, and I'll speak of 
 him as Dudley. This morning he asked me to call 
 him * Jim.' He calls me * Sam.' Actors do get 
 familiar. When she came downstairs to go driving 
 with him this morning I'll swear she was the prettiest 
 thing I ever saw. They took a lunch and were gone 
 for hours. I'd like to punch his face. She was very 
 quiet all evening, and I fancied she avoided me. I 
 smelt liquor on his breath just before bedtime. 
 
 " One A. M. I thought everybody had gone to bed, 
 but they are out there on the veranda talking. Just
 
 184. THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 outside her windows. I distinctly heard him call her 
 ' dearest.' Something must have alarmed them, for 
 they parted abruptly. He walked the veranda for 
 an hour, all alone. Plenty of evidence." 
 
 SUNDAY NIGHT. 
 
 " For appearance's sake he took Miss Crozier for 
 a walk to-day. I went to the chapel down the hill 
 with Miss Dering and Aunt Josephine. Aunt 
 Josephine put a ten-dollar bill in the box. Thinks 
 she's squaring herself with the Lord, I suppose. 
 Miss Dering was not at all talkative and gave every 
 sign of being uncomfortable because he had the 
 audacity to go walking with another girl. In the 
 afternoon she complained of being ill and went to her 
 room. Later on she sent for Dudley and Mrs. Van 
 Haltford. They were in her room all afternoon. I 
 smoked on the terrace with Debby. She is the most 
 uninteresting girl I ever met. But she's on to their 
 game. I know it because she forgot herself once, 
 when I mentioned Miss Dering's illness, and said: 
 ' Poor girl ! She is in a most trying position. Don't 
 you think Mr. Dudley is a splendid fellow? ' I said 
 that he was very good-looking, and she seemed to 
 realize she had said something she ought not to have 
 said and shut up. I'm sorry she's sick, though. I 
 miss that parasol dreadfully. She always has it, and 
 I can see her a mile away. Usually he carries it, 
 though. Well, I suppose he has a right as orig- 
 inal owner. Jim and I smoked together this even- 
 ing, but he evidently smells a mouse. He did not
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 185 
 
 talk much, and I caught him eying me strangely 
 several times." 
 
 MONDAY NIGHT. 
 
 " Dudley has departed. I believe they are on to 
 me. He went to Boston this afternoon, and he actu- 
 ally was gruff with me just before leaving. The size 
 of the matter is, some one has posted him, and they 
 are all up to my game as a spy. I wish I were out of 
 it. Never was so ashamed of a thing in my life ; don't 
 feel like looking any one in the face. They've all been 
 nice to me. But what's the difference? They're all 
 interested. She went to the train with him and the 
 rest of us. I'll never forget how sad she looked as 
 she held his hand and bade him good-by. I carried 
 the parsol back to the hotel, and I know I hurt her 
 feelings when I maliciously said that it would look 
 well with a deep black border. She almost looked a 
 hole through me. Fine eyes. I don't know what is 
 coming next. She is liable to slip out from under my 
 eye at any time and fly away to meet him somewhere 
 else. I telegraphed this message to Grover & Dick- 
 hut: 
 
 "He has gone. She still here. What shall I 
 do? 
 
 " Got this answer: 
 
 " Stay there and watch. They suspect you. Don't 
 let her get away.
 
 186 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 " But how the devil am I to watch day and 
 night?" 
 
 The next week was rather an uneventful one for 
 Rossiter. There was no sign of Havens and no effort 
 on her part to leave Eagle Nest. 
 
 As the days went by he became more and more 
 vigilant. In fact, his watch was incessant and very 
 much of a personal one. He walked and drove with 
 her, and he invented all sorts of excuses to avoid 
 Mrs. Van Haltford and Miss Crozier. The purple 
 parasol and he had become almost inseparable friends. 
 The fear that Havens might return at any time kept 
 him in a fever of anxiety and dread. Now that he was 
 beginning to know her for himself he could not endure 
 the thought that she cared for another man. Strange 
 to say, he did not think of her husband. Old Whar- 
 ton had completely faded from his mind; it was 
 Havens that he envied. He saw himself sinking into 
 her net, falling before her wiles, but he did not rebel. 
 
 He went to bed each night apprehensive that the 
 next morning should find him alone and desolate at 
 Eagle Nest, the bird flown. It hurt him to think that 
 she would laugh over her feat of outwitting him. He 
 was not guarding her for old Wharton now; he was 
 in his own employ. All this time he knew it was 
 wrong, and that she was trifling with him while the 
 other was away. Yet he had eyes, ears, and a heart 
 like all men, and they were for none save the pretty 
 wife of Godfrey Wharton. 
 
 He spoke to her on several occasions of Dudley and 
 gnashed his teeth when he saw a look of sadness, even
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 187 
 
 longing, come into her dark eyes. At such times he 
 was tempted to tell her that he knew all, to confound 
 her by charging her with guilt. But he could not 
 collect the courage. For some accountable reason 
 he held his bitter tongue. And so it was that hand- 
 some Sam Rossiter, spy and good fellow, fell in love 
 with a woman who had a very dark page in her his- 
 tory. 
 
 She received mail, of course, daily, but he was not 
 sneak enough to pry into its secrets, even had the 
 chance presented itself. Sometimes she tossed the let- 
 ters away carelessly, but he observed that there were 
 some which she guarded jealously. Once he heard her 
 tell Aunt Josephine that she had a letter from " Jim." 
 He began to discover that " Jim " was a forbidden 
 subject and that he was not discussed; at least, not 
 in his presence. Many times he saw the two women in 
 earnest, rather cautious conversation, and instinc- 
 tively felt that Havens was the subject. Mrs. Whar- 
 ton appeared piqued and discontented after these 
 little talks. He made this entry in his diary one night, 
 a week after Havens went away : 
 
 " I almost wish he'd come back and end the sus- 
 pense. This thing is wearing on me. I was weighed 
 to-day and I've lost ten pounds. Mrs. Van Haltford 
 says I look hungry and advises me to try salt-water 
 air. I'm hanged if I don't give up the job this week. 
 I don't like it, anyhow. It doesn't seem square to be 
 down here enjoying her society, taking her walking 
 and all that, and all the time hunting up something 
 with which to ruin her forever. I'll stick the week
 
 188 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 out, but I'm not decided whether I'll produce any 
 evidence against her if the Wharton vs. Wharton 
 case ever does come to trial. I don't believe I could. 
 I don't want to be a sneak." 
 
 One day Rossiter and the purple parasol escorted 
 the pretty trifler over the valley to Bald Top, half a 
 mile from the hotel. Mrs. Van Haltford and Miss 
 Crozier were to join them later and were to bring 
 with them Colonel Demin and Mr. Vincent, two friends 
 who had lately arrived. The hotel was rapidly filling 
 with fashionable guests, and Mrs. Wharton had pet- 
 ulantly observed, a day or two before, that the place 
 was getting crowded and she believed she would go 
 away soon. On the way over she said to him. 
 
 " I have about decided to go down to Velvet Springs 
 for the rest of the month. Don't you think it is get- 
 ting rather crowded here? " 
 
 " I have been pretty well satisfied," he replied, in 
 an injured tone. " I don't see why you should want 
 to leave here." 
 
 " Why should I stay if I am tired of the place? " 
 she asked demurely, casting a roguish glance at his 
 sombre face. He clenched the parasol and grated his 
 teeth. 
 
 " She's leading me on, confound her ! " he thought. 
 At the same time his head whirled and his heart beat 
 a little faster. " You shouldn't," he said, " if you 
 are tired. There's more of an attraction at Velvet 
 Springs, I suppose." 
 
 " Have you been there? " 
 
 "No."
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 189 
 
 " You answered rather snappishly. Have you a 
 headache? " 
 
 " Pardon me ; I didn't intend to answer snappishly, 
 as you call it. I only wanted to be brief." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I wanted to change the subject." 
 
 " Shall we talk of the weather? " 
 
 " I suppose we may as well," he said resignedly. 
 She was plainly laughing at him now. " Look here," 
 he said, stopping and looking into her eyes intently 
 and somewhat fiercely, " why do you want to go to 
 Velvet Springs ? " 
 
 " Why should you care where I go? " she answered 
 blithely, although her eyes wavered. 
 
 " It's because you are unhappy here and because 
 some one else is there. I'm not blind, Mrs. Miss 
 Dering." 
 
 " You have no right to talk to me in that manner, 
 Mr. Rollins. Come, we are to go back to the hotel 
 at once," she said coldly. There was steel in her 
 eyes. 
 
 He met her contemptuous look for a moment and 
 quailed. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I am a fool, but you have 
 made me such," he said baldly. 
 
 "I? I do not understand you," and he could not 
 but admire the clever, innocent, widespread eyes. 
 
 " You will understand me some day," he said, and 
 to his amazement she flushed and looked away. They 
 continued their walk, but there was a strange shyness 
 in her manner that puzzled him.
 
 190 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 "When is Dudley expected back here? " he asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 She started sharply and gave him a quick, search- 
 ing look. There was a guilty expression in her eyes, 
 and he muttered something ugly under his breath. 
 
 " I do not know, Mr. Rollins," she answered. 
 
 " When did you hear from him last? " he demanded 
 half savagely. 
 
 " I do not intend to be catechized by you, sir," she 
 exclaimed, halting abruptly. " We shall go back. 
 You are very ugly to-day and I am surprised." 
 
 " I supposed you had letters from him every day," 
 he went on ruthlessly. She gave him a look in which 
 he saw pain and the shadow of tears, and then she 
 turned and walked swiftly toward the hotel. His 
 conscience smote him and he turned after her. For 
 the next ten minutes he was on his knees, figuratively, 
 pleading for forgiveness. At last she paused and 
 smiled sweetly into his face. Then she calmly turned 
 and resumed the journey to Bald Top, saying de- 
 murely : 
 
 " We have nearly a quarter of a mile to retrace, all 
 because you were so hateful." 
 
 " And you so obdurate," he added blissfully. He 
 had tried to be severe and angry with her and had 
 failed. 
 
 That very night the expected came to pass. 
 Havens appeared on the scene, the same handsome, 
 tragic-looking fellow, a trifle care-worn perhaps, but 
 still an evil genius. Rossiter ran plump into him 
 in the hallway and was speechless for a moment. He
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 191 
 
 unconsciously shook hands with the new arrival, but 
 his ears were ringing so with the thuds of his heart 
 that he heard but few of the brisk words addressed 
 to him. After the eager actor had left him standing 
 humbly in the hall he managed to recall part of what 
 had been said. He had come up on the express from 
 Boston and could stay but a day or two. Did Mr. 
 Rossiter know whether Miss Dering was in her room? 
 The barrister also distinctly remembered that he did 
 not ask for his aunt, which would have been the per- 
 fectly natural query. 
 
 Half an hour later Havens was strolling about the 
 grounds, under the lamp lights, in and out of dark 
 nooks, and close beside him was a slim figure in white. 
 Their conversation was earnest, their manner se- 
 cretive; that much the harassed Rossiter could see 
 from the balcony. His heart grew sore and he could 
 almost feel the tears of disappointment surging to his 
 eyes. A glance in his mirror had shown him a face 
 haggard and drawn, eyes strange and bright. He had 
 not slept well, he knew; he had worn himself out in 
 this despicable watch ; he had grown to care for the 
 creature he had been hired to spy upon. No wonder 
 he was haggard. 
 
 Now he was jealous madly, fiendishly jealous. In 
 his heart there was the savage desire to kill the other 
 man and to denounce the woman. Pacing the grounds 
 about the hotel, he soon worked himself into a fever, 
 devilish in its hotness. More than once he passed 
 them, and it was all he could do to refrain from 
 springing upon them. At length he did what most
 
 192 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 men do: he took a drink. Whisky flew down his 
 throat and to his brain. In his mind's eye he saw 
 her in the other's arms and he could bear it no 
 longer! Rushing to his room, he threw himself on 
 the bed and cursed. 
 
 " Good heaven ! I love her ! I love her better than 
 all the world ! I can't stay here and see any more of 
 it ! By thunder, I'll go back to New York and they 
 can go to the devil ! So can old Wharton ! And so 
 can Grover & Dickhut ! " 
 
 He leaped to his feet, dashed headlong to the tele- 
 graph office downstairs, and ten minutes later this 
 message was flying to Grover & Dickhut : 
 
 Get some one else for this job. I'm done with it. 
 Coming home. SAM. 
 
 " I'm coming on the first train, too," muttered the 
 sender, as he hurried up-stairs. " I can pack my 
 trunk for the night stage. I'd like to say good-by 
 to her, but I can't I couldn't stand it. What's the 
 difference? She won't care whether I go or stay 
 rather have me go. If I were to meet her now I'd 
 yes, by George kiss her ! It's wrong to love her, 
 but " 
 
 There was nothing dignified about the manner in 
 which big Sam Rossiter packed his trunk. He fairly 
 stamped the clothing into it and did a lot of other 
 absurd things. When he finally locked it and yanked 
 out his watch his brow was wet and he was trembling. 
 It had taken just five minutes to do the packing.
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 193 
 
 His hat was on the back of his head, his collar was 
 melting, and his cigar was chewed to a pulp. Cane 
 and umbrella were yanked from behind the door and 
 he was ready to fly. The umbrella made him think 
 of a certain parasol, and his heart grew still and cold 
 with the knowledge that he was never to carry it 
 again. 
 
 "I hope I don't meet any of 'em," he muttered, 
 pulling himself together and rushing into the hall. 
 A porter had already jerked his trunk down the stair 
 steps. 
 
 As he hastened after it he heard the swish of 
 skirts and detected in the air a familiar odor, the 
 subtle scent of a perfume that he could not forget 
 were he to live a thousand years. The next moment 
 she came swiftly around a corner in the hall, hurry- 
 ing to her rooms. They, met and both started in 
 surprise, her eyes falling to his travelling-bag, and 
 then lifting to his face in bewilderment. He checked 
 his hurried flight and she came quite close to him. 
 The lights in the hall were dim and the elevator car 
 had dropped to regions below. 
 
 " Where are you going? " she asked in some agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " I am going back to New York," he answered, con- 
 trolling himself with an effort. She was so beauti- 
 ful, there in the dim hallway. 
 
 " To-night? " she asked in very low tones. 
 
 In half an hour." 
 
 " And were you going without saying good-by to 
 to us? " she went on rapidly.
 
 194 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 He looked steadily down into her solemn eyes for a 
 moment and an expression of pain, of longing, came 
 into his own. 
 
 "It couldn't make any difference whether I said 
 good-by to you, and it would have been hard," he re- 
 plied unsteadily. 
 
 " Hard? I don't understand you," she said. 
 
 " I didn't want to see you. Yes, I hoped to get 
 way before you knew anything about it. Maybe it 
 was cowardly, but it was the best way," he cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 " What do you mean? " she cried, and he detected 
 alarm, confusion, guilt in her manner. 
 
 " You know what I mean. I know everything 
 I knew it before I came here, before I saw you. It's 
 why I am here, I'm ashamed to say. But, have 
 no fear have no fear! I've given up the job the 
 nasty job and you can do as you please. The only 
 trouble is that I have been caught in the web; I've 
 been trapped myself. You've made me care for you. 
 That's why I'm giving it all up. Don't look so fright- 
 ened I'll promise to keep your secret." 
 
 Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, but no words 
 came ; she seemed to shrink from him as if he were the 
 headsman and she his victim. 
 
 " I'll do it, right or wrong ! " he gasped suddenly. 
 And in an instant his satchel clattered to the floor and 
 his arms were straining the slight figure to his breast. 
 Burning lips met hers and sealed them tight. She 
 shivered violently, struggled for an instant in his 
 mad embrace, but made no outcry. Gradually her
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 196 
 
 free arm stole upward and around his neck and her 
 lips responded to the passion in his. His kiss of 
 ecstasy was returned. The thrill of joy that shot 
 through him was almost overpowering. A dozen times 
 he kissed her. Unbelieving, he held her from him and 
 looked hungrily into her eyes. They were wet with 
 tears. 
 
 " Why do you go ? I love you ! " she whispered 
 faintly. 
 
 Then came the revulsion. With an oath he threw 
 her from him. Her hands went to her temples and a 
 moan escaped her lips. 
 
 "Bah!" he snarled. "Get away from me! 
 Heaven forgive me for being as weak as I've been to- 
 night!" 
 
 " Sam ! " she wailed piteously. 
 " Don't tell me anything ! Don't try to explain ! 
 Be honest with one man, at least ! " 
 
 " You must be insane ! " she cried tremulously. 
 " Don't play innocent, madam. I know." In ab- 
 ject error she shrank away from him. " But I have 
 kissed you ! If I live a thousand years I shall not for- 
 get its sweetness." 
 
 He waved his hands frantically above her, grabbed 
 up his suit-case and traps, and, with one last look at 
 the petrified woman shrinking against the wall under 
 the blasts of his vituperation, he dashed for the stair- 
 way. And so he left her, a forlorn, crushed figure. 
 
 Blindly he tore downstairs and to the counter. He 
 hardly knew what he was doing as he drew forth his 
 pocket-book to pay his account.
 
 196 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 " Going away, Mr. Rollins ? " inquired the clerk, 
 glancing at the clock. It was eleven-twenty and the 
 last stage-coach left for Fossingford at eleven-thirty, 
 in time to catch the seven o'clock down train. 
 
 " Certainly," was the excited answer. 
 
 " A telegram came a few moments ago for you, sir, 
 but I thought you were in bed," and the other tossed 
 a little envelope out to him. Mechanically Rossiter 
 tore it open. He was thinking of the cowering woman 
 in the hallway and he was cursing himself for his 
 brutality. 
 
 He read the despatch with dizzy eyes and drooping 
 jaw, once, twice, thrice. Then he leaned heavily 
 against the counter and a coldness assailed his heart, 
 so bitter that he felt his blood freezing. It read: 
 
 What have you been doing? The people you were 
 sent to watch sailed for Europe ten days ago. 
 
 GEOVEE & DICKHUT. 
 
 The paper fell from his trembling fingers, but he 
 regained it, natural instinct inspiring a fear that the 
 clerk would read it. 
 
 "Good Lord!" he gasped. 
 
 "Bad news, Mr. Rollins?" asked the clerk sym- 
 pathetically, but the stricken, bewildered man did not 
 answer. 
 
 What did it mean? A vast faint ness attacked him 
 as the truth began to penetrate. Out of the whirling 
 mystery came the astounding, ponderous realization 
 that he had blundered, that he had wronged her, that
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 197 
 
 he had accused her of Oh, that dear, stricken figure 
 in the hallway above ! 
 
 He leaped to the staircase. Three steps at a time 
 he flew back to the scene of the miserable tragedy. 
 What he thought, what he felt as he rushed into the 
 hallway can only be imagined. She was gone heart- 
 broken, killed ! And she had kissed him and said she 
 loved him ! 
 
 A light shone through the transoms over the doors 
 that led into her apartments. Quaking with fear, he 
 ran down the hall and beat a violent tattoo upon her 
 parlor door. Again he rapped, crazed by remorse, 
 fear, love, pity, shame, and a hundred other emotions. 
 
 " Who is it? " came in stifled tones from within. 
 
 " It is I Rossiter I mean Rollins ! I must see 
 you now ! For pity's sake let me in ! " 
 
 " How dare you " she began shrilly ; but he was 
 not to be denied. 
 
 " If you don't open this door I'll kick it in ! " he 
 shouted. " I must see you ! " 
 
 After a moment the door flew open and he stood 
 facing her. She was like a queen. Her figure was as 
 straight as an arrow, her eyes blazing. But there had 
 been tears in them a moment before. 
 
 " Another insult ! " she exclaimed, and the scorn in 
 her voice was withering. He paused abashed, for the 
 first time realizing that he had hurt her beyond rep- 
 aration. His voice faltered and the tears flew to his 
 eyes. 
 
 " I don't know what to say to you. It has been a 
 mistake a frightful mistake and I don't know
 
 198 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 whether you'll let me explain. When I got down- 
 stairs I found this telegram and for heaven's sake, 
 let me tell you the wretched story. Don't turn away 
 from me! You shall listen to me if I have to hold 
 you ! " His manner changed suddenly to the violent, 
 imperious forcefulness of a man driven to the last re- 
 sort. 
 
 " Must I call for help ? " she cried, thoroughly 
 alarmed, once more the weak woman, face to face, 
 as she thought, with an insane man. 
 
 " I love you better than my own life, and I've hurt 
 you terribly. I'm not crazy, Helen! But I've been 
 a fool, and I'll go crazy if you don't give me a chance 
 to explain." 
 
 Whether she gave the chance or no he took it, 
 and from his eager, pleading lips raced the whole 
 story of his connection with the Wharton affair from 
 first to last. He humbled himself, accused himself, 
 ridiculed himself, and wound up by throwing him- 
 self upon her mercy, uttering protestations of the 
 love which had really been his undoing. 
 
 She heard him through without a word. The light 
 in her eyes changed ; the fear left them and the scorn 
 fled. Instead there grew, by stages, wonder, incre- 
 dulity, wavering doubt and joy. She understood 
 him and she loved him! The awful horror of that 
 meeting in the hallway was swept away like unto the 
 transformation scene in the fairy spectacle. 
 
 When he fell upon his knee and sought to clasp 
 her fingers in his cold hand she smiled, and, stooping 
 over, placed both hands on his cheeks and kissed him.
 
 THE PURPLE PARASOL 199 
 
 What followed her kiss of forgiveness may be more 
 easily imagined than told. 
 
 " You see it was perfectly natural for me to mis- 
 take you for Mrs. Wharton," he said after awhile. 
 " You had the gray jacket, the sailor hat, the purple 
 parasol, and you are beautiful. And, besides all that, 
 you were found red-handed in that ridiculous town 
 of Fossingford. Why shouldn't I have suspected you 
 with such a preponderance of evidence against you? 
 Anybody who would get off of a night train in Fos- 
 singford certainly ought to be ashamed of something." 
 
 "But Fossingford is on the map, isn't it? One 
 has a perfect right to get off where she likes, hasn't 
 she, provided it is on the map? " 
 
 " Not at all ! That's what maps are for : to let you 
 see where you don't get off." 
 
 " But I was obliged to get off there. My ticket 
 said ' Fossingford,' and, besides, I was to be met at 
 the station in a most legitimate manner. You had no 
 right to jump at conclusions." 
 
 " Well, if you had not descended to earth at Fos- 
 singford I wouldn't be in heaven at Eagle Nest. Come 
 to think of it, I believe you did quite the proper 
 thing in getting off at Fossingford no matter what 
 the hour." 
 
 " You must remember always that I have not taken 
 you to task for a most flagrant piece of shall I say 
 indiscretion? " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " 
 
 " You stopped off at Fossingford for the sole pur- 
 pose of seeing another woman."
 
 200 THE PURPLE PARASOL 
 
 " That's all very fine, dear, but you'll admit that 
 Dudley was an excellent substitute for Havens. Can't 
 you see how easy it was to be mistaken? " 
 
 "I won't fall into easy submission. Still, I be- 
 lieve I could recommend you as a detective. They 
 usually do the most unheard of things just as you 
 have. Poor Jim Dudley an actor ! Mistaken for such 
 a man as you say Havens is! It is even more ridic- 
 ulous than that I should be mistaken for Mrs. Whar- 
 ton." 
 
 " Say, I'd like to know something about Dudley. 
 It was his confounded devotion to you that helped 
 matters along in my mind. What is he to you? " 
 
 " He came here to-night to repeat a question that 
 had been answered unalterably once before. Jim 
 Dudley? Have you never heard of James Dudley, 
 the man who owns all of those big mines in South 
 America, the man who " 
 
 *' Who owns the yachts and automobiles and and 
 the railroad trains? Is he the one? The man with 
 the millions? Good Lord! And you could have had 
 him instead of me? Helen, I I don't understand it. 
 Why didn't you take him? " 
 
 She hesitated a moment before answering brightly : 
 
 " Perhaps it is because I have a fancy for the 
 ridiculous."
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 " Well, the question is : how much does she 
 weigh? " asked Eddie Ten Eyck with satirical good 
 humour. 
 
 His somewhat flippant inquiry followed the heated 
 remark of General Horatio Gamble, who, in desper- 
 ation, had declared that his step-daughter, Martha, 
 was worth her weight in gold. 
 
 The General was quite a figure in the town of Es- 
 sex. He was the president of the Town and Country 
 Club and, besides owning a splendid stud, was also 
 the possessor of a genuine Gainsborough, picked up 
 at the shop of an obscure dealer in antiques in New 
 York City for a ridiculously low price (two hundred 
 dollars, it has been said), and which, according to a 
 rumour started by himself, was worth a hundred thou- 
 sand if it was worth a dollar, although he contrived 
 to keep the secret from the ears of the county tax col- 
 lector. He had married late in life, after accumu- 
 lating a fortune that no woman could despise, and of 
 late years had taken to frequenting the Club with a 
 far greater assiduity than is customary in most pres- 
 idents. 
 
 Young Mr. Ten Eyck's sarcasm was inspired by a 
 201
 
 202 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 mind's-eye picture of Miss Martha Gamble. To 
 quote Jo Grigsby, she was " so plain that all compari- 
 son began and ended with her." Without desiring 
 to appear ungallant, I may say that there were 
 many homely young women in Essex ; but each of 
 them had the delicate satisfaction of knowing that 
 Martha was incomparably her superior in that re- 
 spect. 
 
 " I am not jesting, sir," said the General with as- 
 perity. " Martha may not be as good-looking as 
 er some girls that I've seen, but she is a jewel, just 
 the same. The man who gets her for a wife will be 
 a blamed sight luckier than the fellows who marry the 
 brainless little fools we see trotting around like but- 
 terflies." (It was the first time that Eddie had heard 
 of trotting butterflies.) 
 
 " She's a fine girl," was his conciliatory re- 
 mark. 
 
 " She is pure gold," said the General with con- 
 viction. " Pure gold, sir." 
 
 " A nugget," agreed Eddie expansively. " A hun- 
 dred and eighty pound nugget, General. Why don't 
 you send her to a refinery? " 
 
 The General merely glared at him and subsided into 
 thoughtful silence. He was in the habit of falling 
 into deep spells of abstraction at such times as this. 
 For the life of him, he couldn't understand how Mar- 
 tha came by her excessive plainness. Her mother was 
 looked upon as a beautiful woman and her father 
 (the General's predecessor) had been a man worth 
 looking at, even from a successor's point of view.
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 203 
 
 That Martha should have grown up to such appall- 
 ing ugliness was a source of wonder, not only to the 
 General, but to Mrs. Gamble herself. 
 
 Young Mr. Ten Eyck was the most impecunious 
 spendthrift in Essex. He lived by his wits, with 
 which he was more generously endowed than anything 
 in the shape of gold or precious jewels. His raiment 
 was accumulative. His spending money came to him 
 through an allowance that his grandmother consid- 
 erately delivered to him at regular periods, but 
 as is the custom with such young men he was penni- 
 less before the quarter was half over. At all times 
 he was precariously close to being submerged by his 
 obligations. Yet trouble sat lightly upon his head, 
 if one were to judge by outward appearances. Be- 
 neath a bland, care-free exterior, however, there 
 lurked in Edward's bosom a perpetual pang of dis- 
 tress over the financial situation. 
 
 What worried him most was the conviction that all 
 signs pointed toward the suspension of credit in 
 places where he owed money, and, as he owed without 
 discrimination, the future seemed hard to contem- 
 plate. 
 
 Prudent mothers stood defiantly between him and 
 what might have been prosperity. He could win the 
 hearts of daughters with shameful regularity and 
 ease, but he could not delude the heads of the families 
 to which they belonged. They knew him well and 
 wisely. 
 
 The conversation between him and General Gam- 
 ble took place in the reading-room of the Town and
 
 204 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 Country Club. There was a small table between them, 
 and glasses. 
 
 " What is the market price of gold to-day, 
 General?" asked Eddie impudently, after he had 
 watched the old man's gloomy countenance out of the 
 corner of his eye for the matter of three minutes or 
 more. 
 
 The General regarded him with deep scorn. 
 "Gold? What do you know about gold? You 
 seldom see anything more precious than copper." 
 
 "That's no joke," agreed Eddie with his frank 
 smile. " I am the only, original penny limit. That 
 reminds me, General. I meant to speak of it before, 
 but somehow it slipped my mind. Could you lend 
 me" 
 
 The General held up his hand. " I've been waiting 
 for that, Eddie. Don't humiliate yourself by asking 
 for a small amount. I haven't the remotest idea how 
 much you already owe me, but it doesn't matter in 
 view of the fact that you'll never pay it. You were 
 about to request the loan of ten dollars, my boy. 
 Why not ask for a respectable amount? say, fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 Eddie's heart leaped. " That's just the amount I 
 meant to ask you to let me have for a week or two. 
 'Pon my word, it is." 
 
 " Well," said the General, taking a notebook from 
 his pocket and carefully jotting down an entry with 
 his gold-tipped pencil, " I cheerfully give it to you, 
 Eddie. I shall credit your account with that amount. 
 Fifty dollars um! It is a new system I have con-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 205 
 
 eluded to adopt. Every time you ask me for a loan 
 I shall subtract the amount from what you already 
 owe me. In time, you see, the whole debt will be 
 lifted, and you'll not owe me a cent." 
 
 Eddie blinked. A slow grin crept into his face as 
 he grasped the irony in the General's scheme. 
 
 " Fine financing, General. It suits me to a dot. 
 By the way, do you think you can spare another hun- 
 dred or two? " 
 
 "The books are closed for the month," said the 
 General placidly. He rang the bell on the table. 
 " More ice, boy, and the same bottle. As I was say- 
 ing, Eddie, I can't for the life of me see why you 
 fellows are so blind when it comes to Martha. She 
 
 " We are not blind," interrupted Eddie, not at all 
 annoyed by his failure to negotiate the loan. 
 " That's just the trouble. If a blind man came along, 
 I've not doubt he could see something attractive in 
 her." 
 
 " Damme ! If she were my own daughter, I'd 
 thrash you for that remark, sir." 
 
 " If she were your own daughter, you wouldn't 
 be discussing her with a high-ball in your hand." 
 
 The General coughed. " Ahem ! Eddie, I'd give 
 a good deal to see that girl married. Leave the 
 bottle on the table, boy. She will have money 
 a lot of it one of these days. There are dozens of 
 young men that we know who'd do 'most anything 
 for money. I By George ! " He broke off to stare 
 with glittering eyes at the face of the young man
 
 206 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 opposite. A great thought was expanding in kis 
 brain. 
 
 Eddie shifted nervously. " Why are you looking 
 at me like that? I don't need it that badly." 
 
 " I'd never thought of you, Eddie, 'pon my word 
 I hadn't. Not until this moment. You need money 
 worse than any one I know. There isn't another 
 girl in town who would marry you, and Martha 
 would. Believe me, she would ! And let me tell you, 
 sir, you couldn't find a truer wife than Martha. 
 You" 
 
 " She couldn't help being true," mused Eddie, 
 rattling the ice in his empty-glass. The General 
 pushed the bottle toward him. 
 
 " She is a bit older than you, I'll admit," pursued 
 the General reflectively. " Worth her weight in 
 gold," he murmured with a sort of ecstasy in his voice. 
 
 Young Ten Eyck assumed an injured air. " I am 
 poor, General Gamble, but I am not blind." 
 
 " She likes you," went on the older man, revelling 
 in the new-found hope. " You don't amount to 
 much, and she knows it, I suppose, but you can 
 have her, my boy. She'll be the richest girl in Essex 
 when I die. Take her, my boy ; I gladly give my con- 
 sent. Will you permit me to congratu " 
 
 " One moment, if you please. In a case like this, 
 you would never die. It would be just my luck. No, 
 I thank you. I decline the honour. If you could 
 perform a miracle and transform her into real gold, 
 I might consider the proposition, but not as it now 
 stands."
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 207 
 
 " She weighs about one-eighty," said the General 
 speculatively. 
 
 Eddie glanced at him sharply. " One hundred and 
 eighty pounds in gold. Quite a pile, eh? " 
 
 The General was silent for a long time, permitting 
 the vague idea to thrive in his harassed mind. His 
 young companion was moodily trying to estimate 
 the value of one hundred and eighty pounds of virgin 
 gold. 
 
 At last the General reached a conclusion. It was 
 a rather heroic effort. He relighted his cigar with 
 trembling fingers. 
 
 " I suppose you haven't heard of the wedding 
 present I intend to bestow upon the fortunate man 
 who leads her to the altar? " said he, casting the 
 fatal die. 
 
 "No; but a separate house and lot wouldn't be 
 despised, I should say." 
 
 " Nonsense. By the way, Eddie, this must not go 
 any farther. It's strictly entre nous. I don't want 
 to have the dear girl pestered to death by fortune 
 hunters. On his wedding day the man who marries 
 Martha is to have the equivalent of her weight in 
 double eagles. Isn't that ra-ather handsome? " 
 
 He sank back and waited for the seed to sink 
 deeply into Ten Eyck soil. Eddie's eyelids flickered. 
 The grin of a Cheshire cat came to his lips in- 
 voluntarily and remained there without modification 
 for the matter of an hour or two. 
 
 " Great !" he said at last. 
 
 " I must be on my way," observed the wily step-
 
 208 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 father, beating a retreat so hastily that Eddie missed 
 the opportunity to scoff. But the contemplative 
 smile remained just as he had left it. 
 
 Several days passed before the two met again. 
 The General had sowed wisely, and he was reason- 
 ably certain of the harvest. He knew that it would 
 be hard for young Ten Eyck to bring himself to the 
 sacrificial altar; but that he would come and would 
 bend his neck was a foregone conclusion. He went 
 on the theory that if you give a man rope enough 
 he'll hang himself, and he felt that Eddie was almost 
 at the end of his rope in these cruel days. 
 
 As for Eddie, he tried to put the thought out of 
 his mind, but as time went on he caught himself many 
 times (with a start of shame) trying to ap- 
 proximate the worth of Martha Gamble on the basis 
 set forth by her step-father. The second day after 
 the interview he consulted a friend of his who hap- 
 pened to be a jeweller. From him he ascertained the 
 present market value of twenty-four carat gold. So 
 much for the start ! 
 
 His creditors were threatening to sue or to " black- 
 list " him ; his friends long since had begun to dodge 
 him, fearing the habitual request for temporary 
 loans ; his allowance was not due for several weeks. 
 Circumstances were so harsh that even Martha ap- 
 peared desirable by contrast. He felt an instinctive 
 longing for rest, and peace, and pecuniary absolu- 
 tion. 
 
 He was therefore deserving of pity when he finally 
 surrendered to the inevitable. How he cursed himself
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 209 
 
 (and his creditors) as he set out to find the Gen- 
 eral on that bright spring day when every other liv- 
 ing creature on earth seemed to be happy and free 
 from care. Kismet! 
 
 General Gamble was reading in a quiet corner of 
 the Club. That is to say, he had the appearance of 
 one reading. As a matter of fact, he had been watch- 
 ing Eddie's shy, uncertain evolutions for half an hour 
 or more, and he chuckled inwardly. As many as ten 
 times the victim strolled through the reading room, 
 on the pretext of looking for some one. Some- 
 thing told the General that he was going to lose Mar- 
 tha. 
 
 At last Eddie approached him. He came with the 
 swift impetuosity of a man who has decided and is 
 afraid to risk a reaction. 
 
 " Hello, General," was his crisp greeting as he 
 dropped into the chair which the astute old gentleman 
 had placed, with premeditation, close to his own some 
 time before. He went straight to the point. " I've 
 been thinking over what you said the other day about 
 Martha. Well, I'll marry her." 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed the General, simulating incre- 
 dulity. "You!" 
 
 "Yes. I'll be it. How much does she really 
 weigh?" 
 
 "Are are you in earnest, my boy?" cried the 
 other. " Why, she'll be tickled to death ! " 
 
 "May I have her?" 
 
 " God bless you, yes I " 
 
 " I suppose I ought to go up and see her and and
 
 210 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 tell her I love her," said Eddie lugubriously. " Or," 
 with a fine inspiration, " perhaps you wouldn't mind 
 telling her for me. I " 
 
 " Tell her yourself, you young rascal," cried the 
 General in fine good humour, poking his prospective 
 stepson-in-law in the ribs. 
 
 Eddie winced. " You can do that to me now, but 
 if you jab me in the ribs after I'm married I'll jab 
 you in the eye." 
 
 " Good ! I like your spirit. Gad, I love a fighting- 
 man! And now, my boy, it seems to me there's no 
 sense in delaying matters. You have my consent. 
 As a matter of form you ought to get Martha's. 
 She'll take you, of course, but I I suppose she would 
 like the idea of being proposed to. They all do. I 
 daresay you two can settle the point in a jiffy in 
 some quiet nook up at the But, there ! I shall not 
 offer suggestions to you in an affair of the heart, my 
 son. Will you be up to see her this evening? " 
 
 Eddie drew a long breath. " If if she has no 
 other engagement." 
 
 " Engagement? " gasped the General, with popping 
 eyes. " She hasn't sat up after eight o'clock in four 
 years, except on Christmas Eve. You won't be dis- 
 turbed ; so come around." 
 
 " Perhaps, to be sure of finding her up, I'd better 
 come to dinner." 
 
 " By all means. Stay as late as you like, too. She 
 won't get sleepy to-night. Not a bit of it." He 
 arose to depart. 
 
 " Just a moment, General," said Eddie curtly.
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 211 
 
 " We've got a few preliminaries to arrange before I 
 commit myself. Here is a paper for you to sign. 
 Business is business, you know, and this is the first 
 really business-like thing I've ever done. Be good 
 enough to read this paper very carefully before sign- 
 ing." 
 
 General Gamble put on his glasses and read the 
 brief, but ample contract which bound him to pay to 
 Edward Peabody Ten Eyck, on the day that he was 
 married to Martha Gamble, for better or for worse, 
 an amount equivalent to the value of her weight in 
 pure gold. He hesitated for one brief, dubious mo- 
 ment, then called for pen, ink, and paper. When 
 these articles were brought to him, he deliberately 
 drew up a second contract by which Edward Ten 
 Eyck bound himself to wed Martha Gamble (and no 
 other) on a day to be named by mutual consent at a 
 later date but not very much later, he was privately 
 resolved. 
 
 " Now," said he, " we'll each sign one. You sha'n't 
 get the better of me, my boy." 
 
 Each signed in the presence of two waiters, neither 
 of whom knew the nature of the instruments. 
 
 " Troy weight," said the General magnanimously. 
 " She is a jewel, you know." 
 
 " Certainly. It's stipulated in the contract 
 twenty-four carat gold. You said pure, you remem- 
 ber. You may have noticed that I take her at the 
 prevailing market price of gold. It is now four cents 
 a carat. Twenty-four carats in a pennyweight. 
 That makes ninety-six cents per pennyweight.
 
 212 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 Twenty pennyweight in an ounce, and there we have 
 nineteen dollars and twenty cents per ounce. We'll 
 we'll weigh her in by ounces." 
 
 " That's reasonable. The price of gold isn't likely 
 to fluctuate much." 
 
 " It must be distinctly understood that you keep 
 her well-fed from this day on, General. I won't have 
 her fluctuating. She hasn't any silly notions about 
 reducing, has she? " 
 
 " My dear fellow, she poses as a Venus," cried the 
 General. 
 
 " Good ! And here's another point : pardon me for 
 suggesting it, but you understand that she's to weigh 
 in er that is to say, her clothing is to be weighed 
 in with her." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " You heard what I said. She's to be settled for 
 dressed." 
 
 " Good Lord, she isn't a chicken ! " 
 
 " Nobody said she was. It is fit and proper that 
 her garments should be weighed with her. Hang it 
 all, man, I'm marrying her clothes as well as any- 
 thing else." 
 
 " I will not agree to that. It's preposterous." 
 
 " I don't mean her entire wardrobe. Just the go- 
 ing-away gown and hat. You can't very well ask 
 her to weigh herself without any But as gentlemen 
 we need not pursue the matter any farther. You 
 shall have your way about it." 
 
 " She has a new pair of scales in her bedroom. 
 She weighs herself every night for her own grati-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 213 
 
 fication. I don't see why she can't do it once or twice 
 for my sake." 
 
 " But women are such dreadful liars about their 
 own weight. She'll be sure to lop off fifteen or twenty 
 pounds in the telling. Hang it, I want witnesses." 
 
 The General assumed a look of distress. " Re- 
 member, sir, that you are speaking of your future 
 wife. You'll have to take her word." 
 
 Eddie slumped down in his chair, muttering some- 
 thing about niggardliness. 
 
 " I suppose I'll have to concede the point." His 
 eyes twinkled. " I say, it would be a horrible shock 
 to you, General, if she were to refuse me to-night." 
 
 " She sha won't! " said the General, setting his 
 jaw, but turning a shade paler. " She'll jump at the 
 chance." 
 
 Eddie sighed dismally. "Doesn't it really seem 
 awful to you ? " 
 
 " Having you for a son-in-law? Yes." 
 
 " You know I'm only doing this because I want to 
 set up in business for myself and need the money," 
 explained the groom-elect in an effort to justify him- 
 self. " Oh, another little point. I'd almost forgot- 
 ten it. I suppose it will be perfectly convenient for 
 us to live with you for a year or two, until I " 
 
 " No ! " thundered the General. Not by a long 
 shot ! You go to housekeeping at once, do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " But think of her poor mother's feelings " 
 
 " Her mother has nothing whatever to do with it, 
 sir. See here, we'll put that in the contract." He
 
 214 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 was visibly disturbed by the thought of what the 
 oversight might have meant to him. " And now, when 
 shall we have the wedding? " 
 
 " Perhaps we'd better leave that to Martha." 
 
 " We'll leave nothing to anybody." 
 
 " She'll want to get a trousseau together and all 
 that sort of thing. I'm ready to go through with it 
 at any time, but you know what girls are." He was 
 perspiring. 
 
 " Yes," said the General with a reminiscent light 
 in his eye. " I daresay they all enjoy a few weeks of 
 courtship and love-making." 
 
 Eddie gulped suddenly and then shot a quick, 
 hunted look toward the buffet door. 
 
 " Have a drink? " demanded the other abruptly. 
 He had caught the sign of danger. 
 
 They strolled into the buffet, arm-in-arm, one lov- 
 ing the world in general, the other hating everybody 
 in it, including the General. Before they parted 
 Eddie Ten Eyck extracted a solemn promise from his 
 future step-father-in-law that he would ascertain 
 Martha's exact weight and report the figure to him 
 on the following day. 
 
 " It will seem easier if I know just about what to 
 expect," explained the young man. 
 
 That very afternoon the General, with a timidity 
 that astonished him, requested his step-daughter to 
 report her correct weight to him on the following 
 morning. He kept his face well screened behind his 
 newspaper while speaking, and his voice was a little 
 thick.
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 215 
 
 "What for, father?" asked Martha, looking up 
 from her book in surprise. Her eyes seemed to grow 
 even larger than the lenses of her spectacles. 
 
 " Why, you see er I'm figuring on a little more 
 insurance," he stammered. 
 
 " What has my weight to do with it? " 
 
 " It isn't life insurance," he made haste to explain. 
 A bright idea struck him. " It is fire insurance, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I don't see what my " 
 
 " Of course you don't," he interrupted genially. 
 " It's this way. The fire insurance companies are 
 getting absurdly finicky about the risks. Now they 
 insist on knowing the weight of every inmate of the 
 houses they insure. Has something to do with the 
 displacement of oxygen, I believe. Your mother and 
 I and the servants, too expect to be weighed to- 
 night." 
 
 " Oh," she said, and resumed her reading. 
 
 He waited for a while, fumbling nervously with his 
 watch chain. 
 
 " By the way, my dear," he said, " what have you 
 been doing to that bully chap, Eddie Ten Eyck? " 
 
 " Doing to him? What do you mean? " 
 
 " Just what I say." 
 
 "I haven't seen the miserable loafer in months," 
 she said. Her voice was heavy, not unlike that of a 
 man. For some reason she shuffled uneasily in her 
 chair. The book dropped into her capacious 
 lap. 
 
 "You've been doing something behind my back,
 
 216 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 you sly minx," he chided. " What do you think hap- 
 pened to-day ? " 
 
 "To Eddie Ten Eyck? " 
 
 " In a way, yes. He came up to me in the Club 
 and asked my permission to pay er court to you, 
 my dear. He said he loved you better than Hey ! 
 Look out there! What the dev Hi, Mother! 
 Come here quick! Good Heaven, she's going to 
 die!" 
 
 Poor Martha had collapsed in a heap, her arms 
 dangling limply over the side of the chair, her eyes 
 bulging and blinking in a most grotesque manner. 
 At first glance one would have sworn she was stran- 
 gling. Afterwards the General denounced himself as 
 an unmitigated idiot for having given her such a 
 shock. He ought to have known better. 
 
 Mrs. Gamble rushed downstairs in great alarm, 
 and it was not long before they had Martha breath- 
 ing naturally, although the General almost made 
 that an impossibility by the ruthless manner in which 
 he fanned her with the very book she had been read- 
 ing a heavy volume which he neglected to open. 
 
 The whirligig room reduced itself to a library for 
 Martha once more, not so monotonous as it once 
 had been, no doubt, i. . , still a library. Out of the 
 turmoil of her OTTH emotions, she managed to grasp 
 enough of what the General was saying to convince 
 herself that this was not another dream but a reality, 
 and she became so excited that her mother advkod aer 
 to go to bed for a while before dinner, if she expected 
 to appear at her best when Eddie arrived.
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 217 
 
 For the first time since early childhood, Martha 
 blushed as she attempted to trip lightly upstairs. 
 As a matter of fact, she did trip on next to the top 
 step and sprawled. Under ordinary circumstances 
 she would have been as mad as a wet hen, but on this 
 happy occasion she merely cried out, when her par- 
 ents dashed into the hall below on hearing the crash : 
 
 " It's good luck to fall upstairs ! " 
 
 The fires of life had been rekindled, and when such 
 a thing happens to a person of Martha's horse-power, 
 the effect is astonishing. At four o'clock she began 
 dressing for the coming suitor. When he arrived at 
 seven, she was still trying to decide whether her hair 
 looked better by itself or with augmentations. 
 
 Below, in the huge library, Eddie Ten Eyck sat dis- 
 consolate, nervously contemplating the immediate fu- 
 ture. He was all alone. Not even a servant was to 
 be seen or heard. It was as still as the Christmas 
 Eve whose jingle we love so well. 
 
 Never in all his aimless existence had he felt so 
 small, so unimportant, so put-upon as at this moment. 
 His gaze, sweeping the ceiling of the library, tried to 
 penetrate to the sacred precincts above. Even the 
 riches and the stateliness of the Gamble mansion 
 failed to reimburse his fancy for the losses it was sus- 
 taining with each succeeding minute of suspense. 
 Dimly he recalled that General Gamble had spent 
 nearly half a million dollars in the jconstruction of 
 this imposing edifice. The library was worth more 
 than one hundred thousand dollars ; the stables were 
 stocked with innumerable thoroughbreds ; the landed
 
 218 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 estate was measured by sections instead of acres ; 
 the stocks and bonds were But even as he con- 
 sidered the question of assets, there surged up before 
 him an overwhelming liability that brought the Gen- 
 eral's books to balance. 
 
 By this time, Eddie had become so proficient in the 
 art of rapid calculation that he could estimate within 
 a few ounces just what a person would have to 
 weigh in order to be worth as much as the library, the 
 mansion, or the bonds. The great Gainsborough 
 that hung in the west end of the room corresponded 
 in value (if reports were true concerning the price 
 Gamble had asked for it) to a woman weighing a 
 shade over two hundred and three pounds troy. 
 
 He lifted a handsome bronze figure from the library 
 table and murmured : " It's worth a ten-pound baby, 
 twenty-two hundred dollars and a fraction." 
 
 The General came in, followed closely by the butler, 
 who bore a tray holding at least ten cocktails. After 
 the greetings, Eddie glanced uneasily at the cocktails. 
 
 " Is is it to be as big a dinner as all this ? " he 
 asked ruefully. 
 
 "Oh, no. Just family, my boy; we four. The 
 women don't drink, Eddie, so help yourself." 
 
 Eddie gratefully swallowed three in rapid suc- 
 cession. 
 
 " I see you mean to make it absolutely necessary 
 for me to take the gold cure," he said with a forlorn 
 smile. 
 
 Martha put in an appearance at seven-thirty, hav- 
 ing kept dinner waiting for half an hour, much to the
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 219 
 
 amazement of those who had lived with her long 
 enough to know her promptness in appearing for 
 meals. 
 
 Mr. Ten Eyck, who was a rather good-looking 
 chap and fastidious to a degree, did not possess the 
 strength to keep his heart anywhere near the cus- 
 tomary leveL It went hurtling to his very boots. He 
 shook hands with the blushing young woman and then 
 involuntarily shrank toward the cocktails, disre- 
 garding the certainty that he would find them luke- 
 warm and tasteless. 
 
 She was gotten up for the occasion. But, as it 
 was not her costume that he was to embrace in matri- 
 mony, we will omit a description of the creation she 
 wore. It was pink, of course, and cut rather low in 
 order to protect her face from the impudent gaze of 
 man. 
 
 Her face? Picture the face of the usual heroine 
 in fiction and then contrive to think of the most per- 
 fect antithesis, and you have Martha in your mind's 
 eye much more clearly than through any description 
 I could hope to present. 
 
 She was squat. Her somewhat brawny shoulders 
 sloped downward and forward and perhaps a little 
 sidewise, I am not sure about that. Her hair was 
 straw-coloured and stringy in spite of the labour she 
 had expended on it with curling-iron and brush. As 
 to her face, the more noticeable features were a very 
 broad, flat nose, a comparatively chinless under jaw, 
 on which grew an accidental wisp of hair or two ; a 
 narrow and permanently decorated upper lip. When
 
 220 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 she smiled well, the effect was discouraging, to say 
 the least. Her eyes were pale and prominent. In 
 spite of all this, practice in rouging might have helped 
 her a little, but she had had no practice. Young men 
 never came to the house, and it was not worth while 
 to keep up appearances for the old ones who were 
 content to dodder at the end of the way. You would 
 say at a glance that she was a very strong and endur- 
 ing person, somewhat along the lines of a suffragette 
 ward politician. 
 
 The dinner was a genial one, after all. The Gen- 
 eral was at his best, and the wine was perfect. In 
 lucid moments, Eddie found himself reflecting : " If 
 I can drink enough of this I'll have delirium tremens 
 and then I won't have to believe all that I see." 
 
 Martha had always called him Eddie. In fact, 
 every one called him Eddie. He was that sort of a 
 chap. To-night, he observed, with a hazy interest, 
 she addressed him as Mr. Ten Eyck, and rather fre- 
 quently, at that. It was : " Do you really think 
 so, Mr. Ten Eyck?" or "How very amusing, Mr. 
 Ten Eyck," or "Good gracious, Mr. Ten Eyck," 
 until poor Eddie, unused to this distinction, reached 
 a point where he muttered something in way of pro- 
 test that caused the General to cough violently in 
 order to give his guest a chance to recover himself be- 
 fore it was too late. 
 
 After dinner the General and Mrs. Gamble retired 
 somewhat precipitously, leaving the young people 
 alone. 
 
 Eddie heaved a tremendous sigh of decision and
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 221 
 
 bravely crossed the room. Martha was seated upon 
 the davenport, nervously toying with her fan. He 
 saw with misgiving that she evidently expected some- 
 thing was going to happen. Her eyes were down- 
 cast. 
 
 He stood silent and somewhat awed before her many 
 minutes, taking the final puffs at an abbreviated cig- 
 arette. Then he abruptly sat down at the opposite 
 end of the couch. As he did so, she thought she 
 heard him mutter something about " one hundred 
 and seventy, at the lowest." 
 
 " So many people have given up playing golf, 
 Mr. Ten Eyck," she said. " I am surprised that you 
 keep it up." 
 
 " Golf? " he murmured blankly. 
 
 " Weren't you speaking of your score for the eigh- 
 teen holes?" 
 
 He gazed at her helplessly for a moment, then set 
 his jaw. 
 
 " Say, Martha," he began, in a high and unnaturel 
 treble, " I am a man of few words. Will you marry 
 me? Oh! Ouch! What the dickens are you doing? 
 O oh ! Don't jump at me like that ! " 
 
 The details are painful and it isn't necessary to 
 go into them. Suffice it to say, she told him that he 
 had always been her ideal and that she had wor- 
 shipped him from childhood's earliest days. He, on 
 the other hand, confessed, with more truth than she 
 could have guessed, that he had but recently come to 
 a realisation of her true worth, and what she really 
 meant to him.
 
 222 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 She set the wedding day for November the eleventh, 
 just seven weeks off. 
 
 Before leaving, she kept him until nearly twelve, 
 he playfully came up behind her as she stood near 
 the table, and, placing his hands under her elbows, 
 said: 
 
 " Hold 'em stiff now." 
 
 Then, to her amazement, he tried to lift her from 
 the floor. He couldn't budge her. 
 
 " It's all right," he exclaimed exultantly and re- 
 fused to explain. 
 
 That night in his dreams an elephant came along 
 and stood for a while on his chest, but he was used 
 to it by that time, and didn't mind. 
 
 The next morning, General Gamble reported by 
 telephone that Martha weighed one hundred and 
 sixty-eight pounds and nine ounces. A minute later, 
 Eddie was at his desk calculating. 
 
 On the twenty-third of September she weighed two 
 thousand and twenty-five ounces troy. At nineteen 
 dollars and twenty cents an ounce she was then worth 
 $38,880. With any sort of luck, he figured, she 
 might be expected to pick up a few pounds as the re- 
 sult of her new-found happiness and peace of mind. 
 Her worries were practically over. Contented people 
 always put on flesh. If everything went well, she 
 ought to represent at least $40,000 on her wedding 
 day. Perhaps more. 
 
 He haunted the Country Club by day and the town 
 clubs by night, always preoccupied and figuring, much 
 to the astonishment of his friends and cronies. He
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 223 
 
 scribbled inexplicable figures on the backs of golf 
 cards, bar checks, and menus. 
 
 By the end of the first week he had made definite 
 promises to all of his creditors. He guaranteed that 
 every one should be paid before the middle of Novem- 
 ber. Moreover, he set aside in his calculations the 
 sum of $7,000 for the purchase of a new house. Early 
 in the second week he had virtually expended $15,- 
 000 of what he expected to receive, and was giving 
 thanks for increased opportunities. 
 
 He called at the Gamble house regularly, even 
 faithfully. True, he urged Martha to play on the 
 piano nearly all of the time, but to all intents and 
 purposes it was courtship. 
 
 When the engagement was announced, the town 
 in utter ignorance of the conspiracy went into con- 
 vulsions. The half-dozen old maids in upper cir- 
 cles who had long since given up hope began to prink 
 and perk themselves into an amazing state of reju- 
 venation, revival, you might say. They tortured 
 themselves with the hope that never dies. They even 
 lent money to impecunious gentlemen who couldn't 
 believe their senses and went about pinching them- 
 selves. 
 
 Eddie Ten Eyck's credit was so good that he suc- 
 ceeded in borrowing nearly five thousand dollars from 
 erstwhile adamantine sceptics. 
 
 One day the General met him in the street. The 
 old soldier wore a troubled look. 
 
 "She's sick." he said without preamble. " Got 
 pains all over her and chills, too."
 
 224 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 " Is it serious ? " demanded Eddie. 
 
 "I don't know. Neither does the doctor. He's 
 waiting for developments. Took a culture to-day. 
 She's in bed, however." 
 
 " She must not die," said Eddie, a desperate 
 gleam in his eye. " I can't afford to have any- 
 thing like that happen now. Can't she be vacci- 
 nated? " 
 
 At the end of the second day thereafter it was 
 known all over town that Martha Gamble was ill with 
 typhoid fever. She was running a temperature of 
 104 degrees and two doctors had come up from New 
 York to consult with the Essex physician, bringing 
 with them a couple of trained nurses. They said her 
 heart was good. 
 
 After the consultation, the General and Eddie 
 sat alone in the library, woebegone and disconso- 
 late. 
 
 " They think they can pull her through," said the 
 former vaguely. 
 
 " Curse 'em," grated Eddie ; " they've got to do it. 
 If there is the least prospect of her dying, General, I 
 must insist that the wedding day be moved forward. 
 I'll I'll marry her to-day. By Jove, it might go a 
 long way toward reducing her temperature." 
 
 " Impossible ! We shall stick to the original agree- 
 ment." 
 
 " Confound you, I believe you are hoping she'll 
 die before the eleventh of November. It would be just 
 like you, General Gamble." 
 
 "I'm not hoping for anything of the sort, sir,"
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 225 
 
 thundered the other. " But, if it should happen " 
 He did not finish the sentence, but there was a green 
 light in his eyes. 
 
 Eddie was silent for many minutes. 
 
 " And if she should die, where do I come in, or get 
 off, or whatever is the proper thing to say in the cir- 
 cumstances ? It wouldn't be fair to me, General Gam- 
 ble. You know it wouldn't. It would be a damned 
 outrage. Here am I, a devoted lover, eager to make 
 her happy to make her last moments happy ones, 
 mind you, and you sit there and deny her the con- 
 solation of " 
 
 " All's fair in love, my boy," said the General 
 blandly. 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 " Martha wasn't strong enough to stand the ex- 
 citement. It was like a sudden and frightful change 
 in the weather. Her constitution couldn't fight it 
 off." 
 
 " Constitution ? Good Lord ! " 
 
 " We ought to make allowances, my boy." 
 
 " I am in no position to make allowances. Are 
 these doctors any good? " 
 
 " The best in New York City." 
 
 " And the nurses ? Everything depends on good 
 nursing." 
 
 " They are real Canadians." 
 
 " General, up to the time I was eleven years old I 
 said my prayers every night. I'm going to begin 
 again to-night," said Eddie solemnly, as he passed 
 his hand across his brow.
 
 226 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 The days went by with monotonous similarity. 
 Bright or dark, wet or dry, they looked the same to 
 Eddie Ten Eyck. At first he had been permitted 
 to visit her once or twice a day, staying for a few 
 minutes on each occasion. After a while the visits 
 were stopped by the doctor's order. But still he 
 haunted the Gamble mansion. He waylaid the doctor ; 
 he bribed or coerced the nurses ; he watched the sick- 
 room door with the eye of a hungry dog; he partook 
 inordinately of the General's liquors. Martha was 
 delirious, that much he was able to gather by per- 
 sistent inquiry. She seemed obsessed with the idea 
 that she and Eddie were to keep house in Heaven, 
 with two cherubs and a hypodermic syringe. 
 
 Mrs. Gamble was deeply touched and not a little 
 surprised by the devotion of her daughter's fiance. 
 She turned to him in these hours of despair and gave 
 to him a large share of her pity and consolation. 
 She asked him to pray for Martha. He said he 
 had been praying for some one else nearly all his life, 
 but henceforth would put in a word for Martha. 
 
 The wedding day was near at hand when an unex- 
 pected and alarming complication set in. The doc- 
 tors were hurriedly gathered in consultation. There 
 was a crisis. One of the nurses confided to Mr. Ten 
 Eyck that there was no hope, but the other declared 
 that if the patient survived the eighth of November 
 she would " be out of the woods." The eighth was 
 three days off. Those three days were spent by Ed- 
 die in a state of fearful suspense. He implored Prov- 
 idence and Fate to stand by him until after the elev-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 227 
 
 enth. He went so far as to add a couple of days to 
 include the thirteenth, not being superstitious. The 
 night of the eighth was a memorable one. No one in 
 the Gamble house went to bed. The ninth came and 
 then the doctors appeared with glad tidings. The 
 crisis was past and there was every chance in the 
 world for the patient to recover, unless of course, 
 some unforeseen complication intervened. 
 
 Eddie staggered out to the stables and performed 
 a dance of joy. 
 
 " What's her temperature ? " he demanded of one 
 of the grooms, absently repeating a question he had 
 asked five thousand times during the past few weeks. 
 " I beg your pardon, Smith." Then he hurried back 
 to the house. Meeting one of the doctors he gripped 
 him by the arm. 
 
 " Is she sure to live, doc doctor? " 
 
 " Forever," said the doctor, meaning to comfort 
 him. 
 
 " No ! " gasped Eddie. 
 
 " Let me congratulate you, Mr. Ten Eyck. She 
 is quite rational now and pardon me if I repeat a 
 sick-room secret she declares that there shall be no 
 postponement of the wedding. She is superstitious 
 about postponements." 
 
 Eddie hesitated. " Ahem ! Is is she emaciated? " 
 
 " No more than might be expected." 
 
 " I I hope she hasn't wasted very much." 
 
 " Skin and bones," said the doctor with the most 
 professional bluntness. 
 
 Eddie mopped his brow. " You you don't mean
 
 228 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 it! See here, doctor, you ought to advise very 
 strongly against the er marriage at this time. 
 Tell her it would kill her. The shock, I mean. I am 
 willing to wait God knows, I am only too willing to 
 wait until she is strong and well and herself once 
 more. Tell her " 
 
 " Perhaps you would better talk it over with her 
 father, Mr. Ten Eyck. I am not " 
 
 " Her father" began Eddie, but caught himself 
 up. 
 
 " I would not answer for her safety if a postpone- 
 ment were even suggested. Her heart is set on it, my 
 dear fellow. She will be strong enough to go through 
 with it." 
 
 " But I want to be married in church." 
 
 " I daresay you will agree with me when I say that 
 your feelings are not to be considered in a crisis of 
 this kind," said the doctor coldly, and moved away. 
 
 At noon on the eleventh Martha awoke from a 
 sound and restful sleep. Sweet lassitude enveloped 
 her, but her mind went groping for something that 
 had been troubling her in a vague sort of way for the 
 last forty-eight hours. 
 
 " Is it the eleventh? " she whispered, stretching out 
 her hand to the watchful nurse. 
 
 " Yes, my dear. Now try to go to sleep again " 
 
 " Where is Mr. Ten Eyck? " 
 
 Sh ! " 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 " Now don't worry about the time " 
 
 "Is it night or day?"
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 229 
 
 "It is noon." 
 
 " I am to be married at eight o'clock this evening, 
 Miss Feeney." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know," soothingly. 
 
 " You might send word to Mr. Ten Eyck that I 
 shall be ready. He may forget the ring unless you 
 tell him that there is to be no post " She 
 went to sleep in the middle of postponement. 
 
 While the nurses were preparing her for the cere- 
 mony, General Gamble sent word into the sick-room 
 that the doctor desired her correct weight for 
 scientific purposes. 
 
 The patient, too weak to help herself, was lifted 
 upon the scales, where she remained long enough for 
 it to be seen that she weighed seventy-three pounds 
 and eight ounces. She was then hustled into bed, but 
 seemed to be in even better spirits than before, con- 
 fiding to the nurses that she knew Mr. Ten Eyck was 
 partial to slender women, and that if she had any- 
 thing to do with it she'd never weigh more than one 
 hundred and ten again, " as long as she lived." 
 
 " One hundred and ten is a lovely weight, don't you 
 think, Miss Feeney? " she asked. 
 
 Miss Feeney was feeling her pulse. The other 
 nurse was trying to stick a mouth thermometer be- 
 tween the patient's lips. 
 
 " It is a much lovelier weight than seventy-three," 
 said Miss Feeney gently. 
 
 The General, in the privacy of his bed-chamber, 
 reduced the pounds to ounces and found that Martha, 
 in her present state, represented eight hundred and
 
 230 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 eighty-four ounces. He could not suppress a chuckle, 
 even though he felt very mean about it. She was 
 worth $16,972 in gold. Her illness had cost him 
 approximately $2,000 in doctors' fees, et cetera, but 
 it had cost Eddie Ten Eyck $21,911 in pure gold, 
 with twenty cents over in silver. 
 
 It is said that the bridegroom almost collapsed 
 when he looked for the first time upon his emaciated 
 investment. It was worse than he had expected. She 
 was literally " skin and bones." 
 
 Mechanically, semi-paralysed, he made the re- 
 sponses to the almost staccato words of the clergy- 
 man. The ceremony was hurried through at a lively 
 rate, but to Eddie it seemed to take hours. Her 
 fingers felt like a closed fan in his own pulseless hand. 
 He replied "I do" and "I will" without really 
 being aware of the fact, and all the time he was 
 gazing blankly at her, trying to remember where he 
 had seen her before. 
 
 Away back in the dim, forgotten ages there was a 
 robust, squat, valuable figure ; but this ! His brain 
 reeled. He was being married to an utter stranger. 
 His loss was incalculable. 
 
 We will speed over the ensuing months. It goes 
 without saying that Martha became well and strong 
 and abominably vigorous in the matter of appetite. 
 Her days of convalescence But why go into them ? 
 They are interesting only to the person who is emer- 
 ging from a period of suffering and fasting. Why 
 dwell upon the reflections of Eddie Ten Eyck as he 
 saw an erstwhile stranger transformed into an old
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 231 
 
 acquaintance before his very eyes? Why go into the 
 painful details attending the stealthy payment of 
 nearly $17,000 by the party of the first part to the 
 party of the second part, and why tell of the uses to 
 which the latter was compelled to put this meagre 
 fortune almost immediately after acquiring it? No 
 one cares to be harassed by these miserable, mawkish 
 details. 
 
 One really needs to know but one thing: the bride- 
 groom soon stood shorn of all his ill-gotten gains, un- 
 less we except the wife of whom no form of adversity 
 could rob him. 
 
 A month after the wedding, Eddie was eagerly 
 awaiting the fourth quarterly instalment of his al- 
 lowance. He was out of debt, it is true, but he never 
 had been poorer in all his life. The thing that ap- 
 palled him most was the fact that he had unlimited 
 credit and did not possess the courage to take ad- 
 vantage of it. He could have borrowed right and 
 left ; he could have run up stupendous accounts ; he 
 could have lived like a lord. But Martha, before she 
 was really able to sit up in bed, began to talk about 
 something in a cottage, something that made him 
 turn pale with desperation, and bread and cheese 
 and kisses, entirely with an eye to thrift and what 
 Eddie considered a nose for squalor. He couldn't 
 imagine anything more squalid than a subsistence on 
 the three commodities mentioned. In fact, he pre- 
 ferred starvation. 
 
 Martha harped for hours at a stretch on how 
 economically she could conduct their small establish-
 
 232 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 ment, once they got into the house he had bound him- 
 self to buy in his days of affluence. She seemed to 
 take it for granted that she would be obliged to skimp 
 and pinch in order to get along on what Eddie would 
 be able to earn. 
 
 " Our meat and grocery bills will be almost noth- 
 ing, Eddie dear," she said one day, with an enthusiasm 
 that discouraged him. " You see, I mean to keep my 
 figure, now that I've got it. I sha'n't eat a thing 
 for days at a time. We'll have no meat, nor potatoes, 
 nor sugar " 
 
 " Just bread and cheese," said he wanly. 
 
 " And something else," she added coquettishly. 
 
 "Kisses are fattening," he said. 
 
 " Goodness ! Who ever told you that? " she cried 
 in dismay. 
 
 " A well-known specialist," he said, his mind adrift. 
 
 " Well, there is one thing sure, Eddie," she de- 
 clared firmly ; " we will not go into debt for anything. 
 We positively must keep out of debt. I won't have 
 you worrying about money matters." 
 
 " I'm not likely to," said he with conviction. 
 
 He then began to watch for signs of decrepitude 
 in the General. 
 
 As soon as Martha was strong enough to travel, 
 her step-father suggested that they go South for the 
 winter instead of opening the little house down the 
 street. He went so far as to offer to pay the ex- 
 penses of the trip as a sort of belated wedding 
 gift. 
 
 Eddie objected. He said that his real estate busi-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 233 
 
 ness was in such a state that he couldn't afford to 
 leave it for a day. 
 
 " I didn't know you had a business," exclaimed the 
 General. 
 
 " I am making arrangements to take up a Govern- 
 ment claim in Alaska," said his son-in-law grimly. 
 
 " Great Scott ! " 
 
 " I'm going to some place where I can dig for 
 gold." 
 
 " Are you in earnest? " 
 
 " Bitterly." 
 
 " And and would you subject Martha to the 
 rigours of an Alaskan winter in " 
 
 " Inasmuch as we shall have to subsist on snow- 
 balls until you pass in your cheques, General, I think 
 we'd better go where they are fresh and plentiful." 
 
 Fortunately for the bride and groom, everybody 
 that was anybody in Essex gave them a wedding 
 present. Not a few, in a fever of exultation, gave be- 
 yond their means, and a great many of them with 
 unintentional irony gave pickle dishes. By the time 
 they were ready to go into their new home, it was 
 cosily, even handsomely furnished. The General, con- 
 trite of heart, spent money lavishly in trying to make 
 the home so attractive for Eddie that he wouldn't be 
 likely to desert it for something worse. 
 
 The groom's sense of humour was only temporarily 
 dulled. He noted signs of its awakening when he 
 assisted in the unpacking of four cheval mirrors, 
 gifts to the bride from persons who may or may not 
 have been in collusion but who certainly wanted
 
 834. HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 Martha to see herself as others saw her, and, as it 
 turned out, from all sides. 
 
 The glow of health an almost superhuman health 
 increased in the countenance of Mrs. Edward Ten 
 Eyck. Her hair was a bit slow in restoring itself, 
 and a shade or two darker, but on the other hand, 
 despite all she could do to prevent it, she resumed her 
 natural proportions with a rapidity that was sicken- 
 ing. 
 
 It was not long before her figure was unquestion- 
 ably her own. 
 
 Eddie tried to conceal his dismay. He even tried 
 to drown it. Their first quarrel grew -out of her 
 objection to the presence of intoxicating liquors in 
 the house. 
 
 " I don't approve of whiskey," she said flatly. 
 
 " But you had it at your house." 
 
 *' You forget that he was only my step-father." 
 
 " He isn't in the past tense yet," said he bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " I've always maintained that whiskey should be 
 used for medicinal purposes only." 
 
 " Then please don't worry about it," said he curtly. 
 " I've ordered a barrel of it." 
 
 " For for medicinal purposes ? " 
 
 " Strictly." 
 
 She studied his face with uneasy alarm in her eyes. 
 
 " You don't feel as though you were going to be 
 ill, do you, dear?" 
 
 He moved to the opposite side of the table, in- 
 voluntarily lifting his left elbow as if to shield him-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 235 
 
 self. She stopped half-way. Then he laughed 
 awkwardly and turned the subject. 
 
 One day he reached the startling conclusion that 
 she was getting heavier than she had ever been before. 
 It required days of contemplation, scrutiny, and 
 development of purpose before he could ask her to 
 step onto the scales at the meat market. 
 
 A cold perspiration started on his forehead as he 
 moved the balance along the bar and found it would 
 be necessary to use the two-hundred pound weight 
 instead of the one-hundred, the fifty, and divers small 
 ones that had been sufficient in days of yore. 
 
 She weighed two hundred and three pounds. 
 
 At nine o'clock that night some one took him home 
 from the Essex Club, and Martha was in hysterics 
 until the doctor, summoned with haste and vehemence, 
 assured her that her husband was not dead. 
 
 The approach of springtime found Eddie in a 
 noticeably run-down condition. Friends and ac- 
 quaintances began to remark that he was " going to 
 seed in a hurry," or " he's awfully run down at the 
 heel," or " I've never seen such a change in a man." 
 
 He was no longer the gay, whilom, inconsequent 
 man about town. The best proof of this was his 
 utter lack of pride in the matter of dress and his 
 carelessness in respect to his personal appearance. 
 Once he had been the beau-ideal of the town. Nowa- 
 days he slouched about the streets with a cigarette 
 drooping listlessly between his lips, his face unshaven, 
 his clothes unpressed and dusty. There was always 
 a hunted, far-away look in his eyes.
 
 236 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 Habitues of the Club began to notice that he was 
 once more making mathematical calculations on the 
 backs of envelopes or the margins of newspapers and 
 magazines. No one pretended to explain this queer 
 habit of his, but they observed that his efforts 
 represented sums in multiplication. Occasionally, as 
 if to throw them off the track, he did a sum in sub- 
 traction, and there were frequent lapses into sim- 
 plified addition. 
 
 It was noted, however, that the numerals one, nine, 
 decimal, two and a cipher, invariably in that sequence, 
 figured somewhere in every calculation. 
 
 General Gamble could have solved the mystery, but 
 he maintained a rigid silence. In his heart, the old 
 schemer nurtured a fear that sooner or later Eddie 
 would commit suicide or run away, either of which 
 would signify the return of Martha to the mansion 
 she had deserted for a cottage. And he knew that if 
 she ever came back it would be as a permanent visitor. 
 
 He encountered his son-in-law frequently at unex- 
 pected times and in unusual places, and was never 
 without the feeling that the young man eyed him 
 balefully. He could feel the intensity of that un- 
 wavering gaze for hours after meeting Eddie. It was 
 an ardent, searching look that seemed to question 
 his right to survive the day. 
 
 After such meetings, the General was wont to 
 survey himself long and fearsomely in the first mirror 
 or show window that presented itself. He began to 
 wonder if he was in failing health. At times he 
 thought he discerned signs of approaching decrepi-
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 237 
 
 tude, but his doctor assured him that he was never 
 healthier or happier than he appeared to be at this 
 particular period in his life. 
 
 Still, he could not shake off the rather ghastly feel- 
 ing that Eddie was secretly praying that his days 
 were numbered. 
 
 One day at the Club he complained of a severe 
 pain in his back, and the very next day he was 
 shocked to find his son-in-law dressed in sombre black 
 with a strip of crape around his arm. Immediately 
 on seeing the General in his usual state of health, 
 Eddie solemnly removed the band from his sleeve and, 
 carefully rolling it up, stuck it into his waistcoat 
 pocket. 
 
 " I'm saving it for a rainy day," said Eddie with a 
 cold-blooded smile. 
 
 " Good Heaven ! " said the General, and at once 
 felt the pain return to his back. 
 
 "Have you seen Martha lately?" asked Eddie, 
 tapping the bell on the table. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the General, settling a little deeper 
 into his chair. " She is looking remarkably well." 
 
 " Do you know what she weighs at present? " 
 
 " Of course not. She took the scales over to your 
 house. Besides, I don't care a hang." 
 
 " Day before yesterday she weighed two hundred 
 and ninety-eight pounds." His voice rose to a shrill 
 screech. " It's a blamed outrage ! " He dropped 
 his chin into his hands and went on muttering 
 vaguely, his eyes glued to the top button of the 
 General's waistcoat.
 
 238 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 " By Jove, she is doing well." 
 
 " She can hardly walk. If she keeps on, she won't 
 be able to see, either. Her eyes are almost lost. I 
 screwed up the courage to take a long look at her to- 
 day. She has lost her neck entirely and I haven't the 
 remotest idea where her ears are." 
 
 "I I do feel sorry for you, Eddie," cried the 
 General, moved by unexpected compunction. 
 
 Eddie rambled on. " Sometimes I sit down and 
 actually watch her grow. You can notice it if you 
 look steadily for a given time." 
 
 The two sat stiff and silent for many minutes. 
 Eddie stole a sly glance at his companion's ruddy 
 face. 
 
 " You are a remarkably well preserved man, Gen- 
 eral," he ventured speculatively. " Would you mind 
 telling me your age? " 
 
 " I am seventy-one, Eddie, if it is any encourage- 
 ment to you," said the General eagerly. 
 
 " You look good for another ten years," said Eddie 
 hopelessly. 
 
 " I am a little worried about my heart," prevari- 
 cated the General. He meant to be magnanimous. 
 Eddie did not look up, but his eyes began to blink 
 rapidly. " There is heart disease in the family, you 
 know." 
 
 " Then maybe Martha has er has " 
 
 " Has what, my son ? " 
 
 " I forgot. She is only your step-daughter. I 
 was worried for a moment, that's all." 
 
 In the fall of the year, Eddie announced to his
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 239 
 
 father-in-law that Martha was tipping the beam at 
 three hundred and fourteen pounds, three ounces, and 
 increasing daily. The General gave vent to an un- 
 easy laugh, whereupon Eddie, mistaking his motive, 
 launched into a tirade that ended with the frantic 
 wish that the old man would hurry up and die. 
 
 " Now, Eddie, don't talk like that ! I have about 
 made up my mind to do something handsome for you 
 and Martha. I have practically decided to make 
 her an allowance for clothing and so forth " 
 
 " Clothing ! " groaned Eddie. " She doesn't want 
 clothes. What could she do with 'em? I am the one 
 who needs clothes. Look at me. Look at the frayed 
 edges and see how I shine in the back. There is a 
 patch or two that you can't see. I put those patches 
 on myself, too. Martha is so darned fat she can't 
 hold a pair of trousers in her lap. Moreover, she 
 can't sew with anything smaller than a crochet needle. 
 Look at me! I am growing a beard so that people 
 can't see my Adam's apple. That's how poor and 
 thin I'm getting to be. Now just listen a minute; 
 I'll give you a few figures that will paralyse you." 
 
 He jerked out his lead pencil and with the rapidity 
 of a lightning calculator multiplied, added, and sub- 
 tracted. 
 
 " She is worth $72,403.20 to-day. What do you 
 think of that ? Prove the figures for yourself. Here's 
 the pencil." 
 
 " I don't care to" 
 
 " The day of the wedding," went on Eddie wildly, 
 " she weighed in at $16,972.80, I think. See what I
 
 240 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 
 
 mean? She's bulling the market and I can't realise a 
 cent on her. She's gone up $55,430 in less than a 
 year. Suffering Isaac! Why couldn't she have 
 weighed that much a year ago? " He was so furious 
 that he chopped off his words in such a way that they 
 sounded like the barking of a dog. 
 
 The General pushed back his chair in alarm. 
 
 " Calm yourself, Eddie." 
 
 " Oh, I'm calm enough." 
 
 "Martha will be a very rich woman when I die, 
 and you won't have to " 
 
 " That sounds beautiful. But don't you see that 
 she's getting so blamed fat that she's liable to tip 
 over some day and die before I can find any one to 
 help me set her up again? And if that should hap- 
 pen, will you kindly tell me where I would come in? " 
 
 "You are a heartless, mercenary scoundrel," 
 gasped the General. 
 
 " Well, you would be sore, too, if this thing had 
 happened to you," whined Eddie. He sprang to his 
 feet suddenly. " By thunder, I can't stand it a day 
 longer. Good-bye, General. I'm going to skip out." 
 
 "Skip out! Leave her? Is that what you mean? " 
 
 " Yes. She can always find a happy home with her 
 mother and you. I'm off to the " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," cried the General hoarsely, 
 " don't do that, Eddie. Don't you dare do anything 
 like that. I I I am sure we can arrange something 
 between us. I'm not a stingy, hard-hearted man, and 
 you know it. You deserve relief. You deserve com- 
 pensation. I am your father-in-law and, damme,
 
 HER WEIGHT IN GOLD 241 
 
 I'll not go back on you in your time of need. I'll 
 make up the amount you have already lost, 'pon my 
 soul I will, Eddie. Stand by your guns, that's all I 
 ask." 
 
 A seraphic expression came into Eddie's face. 
 " When? " he demanded. 
 
 " Immediately. Can you come to my house this 
 evening? Alone, of course." 
 
 " I should say I can ! " shouted Eddie, growing 
 two inches taller in an instant. He took the package 
 of crape from his pocket and threw it into a cuspidor. 
 Then he sighed profoundly. " Gad, have you ever 
 felt like another man, General? It's great." 
 
 As the General was past the point where he could 
 risk saying another word, he maintained a strenuous 
 silence. 
 
 Eddie indulged in an expansive grin. " You asked 
 if I could come alone. That's the only way I can 
 come. If you ever expect to see Martha, General, 
 you will have to come to my house to do so. Do you 
 remember that saying about Mahomet and the 
 mountain? "
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 Over two centuries ago. Virginia, fair Virginia, 
 in her most rugged, uncouth state, yet queen of all 
 the colonies, rich in the dignity of an advanced settle- 
 ment, glorious in prophecies and ambitions ; the 
 favoured ward of England's sovereigns, the paradise 
 of her royal pillagers, the birthplace of American 
 Freedom. 
 
 Jamestown was in the throes of a savage struggle, 
 confined not to herself alone, but spreading to the 
 farthermost ends of the apparently unbounded state. 
 The capital fight was on, the contest, waging between 
 the town in which grew Bacon's rebellion and 
 Williamsburg, in which William and Mary College 
 had just been born, an infant venture that seemed 
 but a mockery in the wilds. Boisterous, boasting 
 Jamestown, since the rule of Berkeley and the un- 
 fortunate overthrow of Bacon, had resumed a state 
 of composure which she had not known in the five 
 preceding decades, and was beginning to look upon 
 herself as the undisputed metropolis of the wilder- 
 ness. The impudence of Williamsburg, with her 
 feeble scholastic claims, was not even condemned it 
 was ignored. 
 
 The crude fort at Jamestown held a merry gar- 
 243
 
 244 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 rison, the Governor having impressed upon royalty 
 across the sea the importance of troops in a land 
 where unexpected rebellions against authority might 
 succeed the partially triumphant uprising against 
 Sir William in 1676. Bacon's death in the October 
 of that year had lost the fight which had been fairly 
 won, and it was wisdom which told the new Governor 
 that troops were essential, even in time of peace. 
 
 The commander of the garrison was Colonel 
 Fortune. The number and quality of his troops are 
 not important factors in this tale. 
 
 Among the men were a dozen or more subalterns, 
 fresh from England, undergoing their first rough 
 work in the forests of Virginia. In this fledgling 
 crowd were young Graf ton, afterward a general; 
 Mooney, Vedder, Holcraft and others, whose names, 
 with those of their Virginia companions went into 
 colonial history. 
 
 Near the fort were the homes of the officers, the 
 Governor's residence being but a short distance down 
 the rough, winding lane, which was dignified by the 
 name of street. Colonel Fortune's home was the 
 handsomest, the merriest of them all, a typical 
 frontier mansion. A mansion of those days could be 
 little more than a cottage in these, yet the Colonel's 
 was far brighter, gayer than the palace of to-day. 
 In his house gathered chivalrous subalterns from 
 English homes, stalwart Virginians of inherited gal- 
 lantry, the men and women from whom sprung the 
 first families of that blue blood which all Americans 
 cherish lovingly and proudly.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 245 
 
 His board was more hospitable than that of the 
 Governor, his favours were coveted more eagerly even 
 than were those of his superior. Stern, exacting, yet 
 affable and courteous, he was the idol of a people 
 whose hatred for those who ruled them had wrought 
 ruin more than once. Mrs. Fortune, a lady of gentle 
 birth closely related, in fact, to a certain branch of 
 nobility, shared the power of her husband. 
 
 But there was a colonial queen whose reign was of 
 more consequence to the youth of Jamestown than 
 was that of the august person across the sea. She 
 was queen of hearts, this daughter of theirs, airy Kate 
 Fortune. Daintiest maid in all the land, famed for 
 her wit, her follies, her merry loveliness, her dimples 
 and her sunshine, she was the wiliest tempter who ever 
 laid unconscious siege against man's indifference. 
 The English officers called her an angel, the more 
 deferential Virginians moaned that she was a witch, 
 yet would not have burned her for the whole universe. 
 On the contrary, they sacrificed themselves to the 
 worship of her craft. War and strife were forgotten, 
 the treacheries of the Indians were minimised, and a 
 score or more of dreamers, awake or asleep, found 
 their minds so full of dainty Kate that thought of else 
 could work no means of entrance. In that year of 
 our Lord, Jamestown was a veritable cauldron of 
 rivals, fair suitors all, some bold, some timid, none 
 hopeful. 
 
 Strange as it may appear to those who live these 
 two centuries later, there were no jealousies, no bitter- 
 ness among them. In those good days the favoured
 
 246 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 man's best friends were his beaten rivals. Kate's 
 kingdom was not large, was not glittering, but her 
 sceptre was mighty. It was made of tenderness and 
 Wauty. 
 
 For two months the Governor's nephew had been 
 her most ardent admirer, notwithstanding the fact 
 that he had been in Virginia but sixty days. His 
 surrender had been instantaneous. 
 
 Ordinarily the nephew of the Governor, who was 
 a lord of the realm, might be considered a superior 
 rival, but in this instance he was not even feared. 
 He had come to Jamestown with exalted ideas. He 
 dressed better, talked better and lived better, and he 
 seemed to hold every man in the colony in disdain. 
 Friendly, courteous even to the lowest soldier, he still 
 gave forth the impression that he was condescending, 
 not alone to those beneath, but to those above him. 
 That this scion, this self-ordered perfect man, should 
 have drifted to the colonies from the drawing-rooms 
 of London only to fall in love with Kate Fortune 
 seemed incredible. 
 
 Moreover, he had refused to wrestle in the contests 
 at the fort, and had failed to fight the man who had 
 warmly called him a coward in the presence of others. 
 
 Tales of his conduct in that and other exhibitions 
 had been spread, and the good-looking young officer 
 eventually became a laughing-stock. One day, how- 
 ever, he pulled the nose of an impudent lieutenant. 
 When the red-faced lieutenant insisted upon satis- 
 faction with swords he merely turned pale and 
 ignored the challenge.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 247 
 
 " I came here to fight the Indians, not to kill my 
 comrades," he had said, and a disdainful laugh fol- 
 lowed, bringing a flush to his face as he walked away. 
 
 Kate Fortune rather admired the easy elegance of 
 the stranger, yet despised his lack of courage, the 
 story having come to her promptly enough. She be- 
 gan to treat him coldly and he was at last driven to 
 feel that he was her most unwelcome suitor. One day 
 he bluntly asked her why she treated him so unkindly. 
 
 " Captain Studdiford, I will be frank with you," 
 replied the girl. " How can you expect me to admire 
 a man who submits to the ridicule of a whole company 
 of men, not one of whom seems able to cope with him 
 in strength or in the experience of arms? I am the 
 daughter of an English soldier; that should be suf- 
 ficient reason for my conduct. If I have mistreated 
 you it was because I could not help it." She saw 
 a look of pain come and go in his flushed face, hence 
 the hasty apology, such as it was. 
 
 " So I am an object of derision to you, as well as 
 to them," he observed, quietly. " I shall not intrude 
 myself again, Miss Fortune. I am brave enough to 
 tell you, for the first time, and in the face of your 
 evident dislike, that I love you better than I ever 
 dreamed I could love a woman." He was turning 
 away in apparent indifference as he concluded this 
 strange avowal. 
 
 Kate planted herself squarely before him, her 
 pretty, perplexed face twitching between a smile and 
 a frown, wonder fairly popping from her curious blue 
 eyes.
 
 248 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 " Isn't it cowardly to say that when you know how 
 I feel? You are safe in confessing something that 
 you already know I cannot consider," she said. 
 
 " I would rather not discuss it. You may treat it 
 as a jest, as cowardice, or what you like. I cannot 
 control your treatment of the best thing an honest 
 man has to give a woman." It left the girl standing 
 on the tips of her toes in sheer surprise. She was 
 at no time a dignified queen, but she was an inquisitive 
 one. 
 
 " But, Captain, you must not go away fearing that 
 I I shall treat lightly what you have said to me," 
 she murmured. 
 
 " Fearing? Why should I fear your ridicule more 
 than that of others ? You are brighter, more bewitch- 
 ing, more tantalising than any woman I have ever 
 known you are maddening do you hear? Ah, I 
 crave your pardon for so far forgetting myself as to 
 dwell upon a matter which I should have forgotten 
 in your displeasure. By the way, I should like to 
 tell you why I will not accommodate these young fools 
 with a duel, why I have controlled my natural desire 
 to resent their insults. I have fought one duel and I 
 have killed a man. These men would have no more 
 chance than that man had. You may tell them so. 
 Farewell!" 
 
 She watched his tall figure move from her dooryard 
 and disappear in the direction of the river. Then 
 Kate sat down in the window and gazed half regret- 
 fully toward the opening in the timber through which 
 he had passed.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 249 
 
 It began to occur to her that Captain Studdiford 
 was somehow the superior of any man she had ever 
 seen. She felt a joy that he had fought a duel, al- 
 though the thought that he had killed a man caused 
 her to shudder. With the shudder, however, came 
 the relieved feeling that he had not been the victim. 
 Her face flushed faintly, too, as she recalled his 
 strange avowal of love. 
 
 That same night a half dozen young men, with as 
 many maids, dropped in to spend the chilly evening 
 before the Colonel's roaring fires. They were toast- 
 ing apples and chattering gaily when Kate suddenly 
 turned to a young Virginian, and with taunting eyes, 
 cried : 
 
 " Morton Trask, I know why Captain Studdiford 
 would not fight a duel with you." 
 
 " So do I," responded Trask. " Because he feared 
 me." 
 
 " 'Twas no such reason. He says he does not 
 choose to kill anything but Indians." A big laugh 
 went up from the men. 
 
 " The fool ! Did he say that to you ? " cried Trask. 
 
 " He truly did ; and, besides, he has fought and 
 killed a man." 
 
 " Ho ! Ho ! " laughed Trask, disdainfully. 
 
 " Did he stab him in the dark ? " questioned Far- 
 ring. 
 
 " He lies if he says he fought aught save a boy," 
 sneered Trask. 
 
 " Yet he pulled your valiant nose until it was red 
 for near a week," said Kate, cheerily.
 
 250 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 "Oh, would that I were at him the coward!" 
 cried Trask, white and trembling. 
 
 " You can pull his nose when next you meet him, 
 Morton, it is your turn, you know," said Kate, laugh- 
 ingly, and Trask glared at the burning logs in angry 
 silence. 
 
 " Please forgive me, Morton ; I did not mean to 
 hurt you by recalling a previous injury," cried Kate, 
 and Trask's injury increased with her contrition. 
 
 " I cannot see why you defend the Captain, Miss 
 Fortune," ventured Farring. 
 
 " Why not? He will not defend himself." 
 
 " But you surely cannot approve a coward? " 
 
 " Are you sure he is a coward? " 
 
 " I should consider myself one under the circum- 
 stances, I believe," he replied, evasively. 
 
 " Would it not be cowardly to fight Morton Trask 
 if he knew he could kill him? " 
 
 " Bah ! " came from the angry Trask. 
 
 " He could, at least, have given Trask satisfaction 
 for an insult," said Varney. Kate wavered. 
 
 " That's true," she said ; " he should have been a 
 gentleman. Still, that does not prove him a cow- 
 ard." 
 
 " I'll wager that I can prove him a coward," ob- 
 served Lieutenant Holmes. " And safely, too." 
 
 " 'Twere wise to do it safely," supplemented Miss 
 Fortune. 
 
 " One time at home we exposed a boasting captain, 
 who would have had us think him the bravest man on 
 earth"
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 251 
 
 " But that does not seem to be Captain Studdi- 
 ford's object," interrupted Kate. 
 
 " True," went on Holmes, " but that has nothing 
 to do with it. This captain was one night approached 
 by five of his fellow officers, disguised as highwaymen, 
 and despite his declarations that he had fought dozens 
 of such men, he ran like a hound, screaming murder 
 ull the way. Why not test your captain's courage as 
 *re tested ours, Miss Fortune? " 
 
 " In the first place, I could not be a very im- 
 pressive highwayman, and in the second place, he 
 might shoot." 
 
 " You have plenty of men at your command who 
 would serve as Indians for such an experiment," 
 speculated Varney. 
 
 " Egad ! we all would ! " exclaimed Holmes. 
 
 " So you might ! " she cried. " He would be will- 
 ing to kill you if you were Indians." 
 
 " We might as well give up the plan, for we could 
 not force him to leave town without a bodyguard," 
 sneered Trask. 
 
 " Fie ! That is easy. Miss Fortune could ask him 
 to ride with her into the forest and he would go 
 blindly enough," said Holmes. 
 
 "I?" cried Kate, blushing to think of herself in 
 that position after Studdiford's proclamation. " I 
 could not would not do such a thing. Prove him 
 a coward, but do not ask me to help you." 
 
 " Holmes is right, and Miss Fortune should be will- 
 ing to make the test. She is his defender; she cannot 
 refuse to satisfy herself of her error in this harmlces,
 
 252 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 yet effective way," announced big Farring, and every 
 member of the party laid siege against Kate's falter- 
 ing opposition. The fun of it all finally appealed to 
 her and she rather timidly agreed to the proposition. 
 How could she ask him to ride with her after what 
 had passed between them? He would think her un- 
 womanly and, strangely enough, with that thought 
 she began to feel that she must have his good opinion. 
 Yet she went, half dubiously, into the plot to prove 
 a coward of the man she was beginning to admire. 
 
 The details of the scheme were submitted by the 
 men, and were as follows : Kate was to ask him to ride 
 horseback with her to " Big Fork," five miles through 
 the forest, on some near afternoon, and the men were 
 to bedeck themselves as Indians, attack them, take 
 her from his custody and hurry her off into apparent 
 captivity, whilst he trembled with fear and inaction. 
 
 " But suppose he should happen to be disappoint- 
 ing and shoot somebody," objected Lucy Gaines. 
 
 "Oh, he must have no chance to do that," said 
 Varney. " Miss Fortune can induce him to discharge 
 his pistols in some feat of marksmanship and we will 
 swoop down before he can reload them." 
 
 " For shame ! " cried Kate. " How could that be 
 a fair test of bravery? An unarmed man against 
 five brawny Indians ! I'll have none of it. His 
 pistols must remain undisturbed." 
 
 " But good heavens ! he may kill us all," cried 
 Trask. 
 
 " Well, how else is he to prove his courage? You 
 must take your chances, gentlemen, with your coward.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 2S3 
 
 If he is a coward you need not fear his pistols, though 
 he had a dozen ; if he is not, then you may have to run 
 from them." 
 
 " Allow us to capture you and offer him the 
 privilege of fighting for your liberty, choosing his 
 own weapons. If he agrees to fight for you, instead 
 of taking his proffered freedom, we will leave the field 
 to him and you may call him hero. That is fair, is it 
 not? " proposed Farring. 
 
 " You will not hurt him ? " asked Kate doubtingly. 
 
 "Hurt him? We shall not even catch him. He 
 will leave you and fly for his life ! " cried Trask. 
 
 " I tell you now, gentlemen, if he stands the test and 
 disproves your taunts against his valour, my respect 
 for him will be far more than you can ever hope to 
 inspire. Yet, after all, it will be a diversion it will 
 be fun to see how he will act," mused the fair plotter. 
 
 It required all of Kate's courage and a dismal 
 sacrifice of pride to suggest the ride to Captain Stud- 
 diford, but she did it the next morning, stopping him 
 near the fort after having walked not thirty feet be- 
 hind for more than two hundred yards. She was a 
 trifle insecure as to her own valour in this pre- 
 liminary step. 
 
 The rosiness of her cheeks might have been by 
 others attributed to the chill of the December morn, 
 but she knew they were the flames from an inward fire. 
 
 Captain Studdiford's heart thumped unusually 
 fast as he looked down into the piquant face and big 
 blue eyes, which for the first time since he had known 
 her, wore a gleam bordering on embarrassment.
 
 254 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 They were very soft and timid this morning there 
 was something appealing in their tempting depths. 
 
 "May I not walk with you? I am going your 
 way," were her first words as she reached his side. 
 
 "Whither, pray?" 
 
 " Oh, to " and here she blushed, for in truth she 
 had no destination " to Anna Corwin's," she con- 
 cluded in relief. 
 
 " But Mistress Corwin lives back yonder. How 
 came you to be going this way? " 
 
 " Did I say Anna Corwin? " 
 
 " If I am not deaf." 
 
 " Then I must have meant some one else ; to be sure 
 I did how queer of me. I am going to Lucy's. You 
 cannot say, sir, that she does not live in this direction. 
 I'll not walk with you if you are bound to be partic- 
 ular, though." Her little ears were very red. 
 
 " I beg you to forgive me and allow me to walk 
 with you," cried the Captain eagerly. 
 
 " I like that much better. No matter if I were 
 going to Anna's and chose a roundabout way, you 
 should not be so impolite as to remonstrate. As a 
 rule, Captain, the men prefer the roundabout 
 way." 
 
 " Be it miles I would walk it with thee," cried he, 
 smiling at her merry vanity. 
 
 " Oh, would you do that? " she asked, suddenly see- 
 ing her way clear. Yet, in spite of all, her composure 
 deserted her and she blurted it out, turning red again. 
 " I am dying to ride to * Big Fork ' to-morrow, but I 
 have no one to accompany me. Would you like to
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 255 
 go?" Then to herself, "What a fool he thinks 
 
 ,i 
 
 me! 
 
 "Gladly; but, are we sure there are no stray 
 Indians about? " he asked, rather quickly. 
 
 " He is afraid," she thought, with strange disap- 
 pointment. " If you are afraid, we will not go," she 
 said a trifle coldly. 
 
 "Afraid? Not for myself, but for you. We will 
 go if you like, and I should rejoice to meet all of the 
 Indians in Virginia if it will please you." 
 
 So they made their plans, and she was so loth to 
 leave him that he was forced to remind her that they 
 had passed the home of Lucy Gaines a full furlong 
 or more. He left her at the door, his heart exultant, 
 hers all a-flutter. 
 
 The next afternoon the two rode forth from James- 
 town and into the forest, following the well-made 
 road which led to the westward beneath the red and 
 yellowing oaks. Half an hour previous to their de- 
 parture five young men had ridden from the home of 
 Lucy Gaines, strange bundles strapped to their sad- 
 dles. Above all things, they had cautioned Kate to 
 demand the Captain's proof of marksmanship at a 
 point near Big Fork. 
 
 It was with some consternation, notwithstanding 
 all the plotting, that Kate observed the big pistols 
 at the Captain's side and the heavy sword which 
 jangled against his leg. That jangling sword gave 
 her the tremors, and she cast many furtive glances 
 toward its chain and scabbard. At last she was com- 
 pelled to ask:
 
 256 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 " How can you, I pray, use such a monstrous 
 sword, Captain Studdiford? It must have been made 
 for a giant." 
 
 " It was ; it was my great-great-grandfather's over 
 a century ago. See! It is serviceable, even in my 
 weak hand." He pulled the gleaming blade, long and 
 heavy, from its scabbard, and swept it downward 
 through the air so fiercely that it resembled a wide 
 sheet of silver. Kate's blue eyes grew wide with ap- 
 prehension, a cold chill seized upon her and her ruddy 
 face paled. He returned the weapon to its sheath 
 with such a forceful crash that she started violently 
 in her saddle, her little teeth clicking in sheer af- 
 fright. 
 
 " I could cleave a man's skull in twain as easily as 
 you can cut an apple. Would that we could meet a 
 warlike Indian that I could show you how it merits 
 my praise." 
 
 "Goodness!" gasped Kate hopelessly. "You 
 would not strike a a man with it, would 
 you?" 
 
 " If he were an enemy. For you, loved one, I could 
 cut down an army." Their horses drew more closely 
 side by side and the fierce, strong hand was gently 
 laid upon her trembling fingers. Tenderly clasping 
 the little one the big one raised it until it touched the 
 lips of him who leaned across to kiss it. Their eyes 
 met as he raised his head. His were full of love, hers 
 with a pleading dread, the uncertain quiver between 
 love and fear. Without a word he dropped the hand, 
 suddenly sick at heart.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 257 
 
 "I could die for her and she despises me," he 
 groaned to himself. 
 
 " Oh, what have I have we done? " she thought, 
 a thousand fears gathering in her heart. " He is no 
 coward and he will kill one of them ! How can I tell 
 him how can I save their lives? He will despise me! 
 That awful sword ! A man's skull ! Oh, dear ! He 
 called me loved one ! How big and strong he is ! He 
 called me how can I keep him from using the sword? 
 The pistols I can manage and perhaps they will not 
 be there. He will kill them all horror upon horror ! 
 What have I done? Oh! " the last exclamation was 
 so loud and so sudden that the pale Captain turned 
 quickly. 
 
 "What is it? What is it?" 
 
 She laughed wildly, even gleefully, almost in the 
 face of her companion. 
 
 " Nothing nothing at all ! " she cried. 
 
 tf I am glad to have afforded you amusement, Mis- 
 tress Fortune. You may tear my heart to shreds." 
 
 Her manner changed instantly. Tears flew to the 
 blue eyes and her hand crept toward him. 
 
 " Forgive me, pray, Captain Studdiford, I I did 
 not mean to hurt you. I I am very foolish, very 
 unkind. You must hate me," she faltered. 
 
 " Hate you ! How could I ? You do not love me 
 why should I have hoped? I can but blame myself." 
 Her hand had fallen to her side because he had not 
 touched it. " And it is our last afternoon together." 
 
 " Last? " she repeated, faintly. 
 
 " Yes ; for I shall not see you again."
 
 258 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 " Oh you you do not mean that ! " 
 
 " I have asked to be transferred to Williamsburg. 
 I I have not one friend in Jamestown; why should 
 I stay here? " he cried bitterly. 
 
 "But you have," she exclaimed, eagerly; "you 
 have. I am your friend." 
 
 "Friend! That is not what I ask of you," he 
 said, almost gruffly. 
 
 Silence, broken only by the clatter of the hoofs 
 upon the road followed his words. In her confusion 
 she had forgotten the terrible sword, but it recurred 
 to her, and, with it, the thought which had given 
 birth to her untimely mirth, the thought that was to 
 lead her from the chief predicament into which she 
 had been cast. She would ask the Captain to turn 
 back to Jamestown at once, avoiding the possibility 
 of conflict. 
 
 " Captain Studdiford, I believe we had better turn 
 back." Her face grew crimson beneath his calm 
 gaze. 
 
 " As you like. You will grant me time to adjust 
 my saddle girth ; it is slipping," he said coolly, dis- 
 mounting without another word. 
 
 They were fully three miles from the village, and in 
 a dense piece of forest. On either side of the narrow 
 road grew the thickest of underbrush with the great, 
 gaunt trees stretching above like silent sentinels. 
 The girl's mind was chaos ; her thoughts were chang- 
 ing and interchanging like leaves before the whirling 
 wind. She knew that she admired this man, and that 
 something even sweeter was beginning to throb its
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 259 
 
 way into her heart. A half smile came to her troubled 
 face as she thought of the war-painted plotters two 
 miles away, waiting to make a coward of her hero. 
 A touch of remorse came to her as she remembered 
 her part in the play, and that the plot would have 
 been carried out had she not seen the great swing of 
 that fearful sword. What havoc it would have 
 wrought ! And he was to leave Jamestown ! With- 
 out a friend, he had said. How could he say that? 
 
 In the midst of these varying thoughts she allowed 
 her softening eyes to wander from him toward the 
 trees above and the straggling brush beneath their 
 knotty limbs. A suppressed scream called the Cap- 
 tain's attention to her staring eyes. They were blink- 
 ing with consternation. 
 
 Deep in the underbrush she had seen the form of 
 an Indian warrior ! Horrors ! The sword ! 
 
 " What do you see? " cried he, staring toward the 
 now deserted brush. 
 
 " Nothing nothing !" she gasped. " Yes I 
 mean, that red bird! See? Do shoot it for me I 
 must have it! Isn't it beautiful?" She was ex- 
 citedly pointing toward a red bird in the top branches 
 of a big oak. 
 
 He drew his pistols and deliberately aimed with one 
 of them. The shot missed and the bird darted 
 away. 
 
 " Oh, goodness ! " she cried. " Try the other one ! " 
 
 " But the bird is gone." 
 
 " Is it ? So it is but, quick ! See if you can cut 
 off that twig up there the one with three red leaves.
 
 260 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 I wager you cannot ! Quick, and then we will ride for 
 home." 
 
 " Why are you so excited? " 
 
 " I am not the least bit excited I never am ! Why 
 do you not shoot at that twig? " 
 
 " You try it," he surprised her by saying, pushing 
 a pistol into her hand. Without a word or aim she 
 blazed away at the sky and his firearms were useless. 
 She handed the smoking pistol to him with a laugh. 
 
 " Would it not be awful if Indians came upon us ? " 
 she cried, with strange exultation. " But mount, and 
 race with me to the spring ! " 
 
 As the Captain placed his foot in the stirrup a yell 
 burst from the thicket, an arrow whizzed above their 
 heads, and a half-a-dozen fierce warriors were dashing 
 toward them. 
 
 " Do not use your sword ! " she screamed. 
 
 Before the bewildered soldier could catch his breath 
 an ugly brave was in the road, not ten feet away, 
 knife in hand. Out whizzed the sword ! 
 
 Kate screamed in agony, clasping her hand over 
 her eyes. 
 
 " They are friends ! Do not strike ! " 
 
 But it was too late. The streak of steel cut the 
 air. A sickening thud, a gurgling howl, and the as- 
 sailant fell, his head half severed from his body. An 
 instant later the big Englishman was in his saddle. 
 A second slash and an Indian at his side went down 
 beneath the ancestral blade ! 
 
 The two horses plunged forward as a brawny red- 
 skin grasped her arm and she felt herself being
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 261 
 
 Dragged to the ground. Then a hand clasped her 
 other arm, a big form leaned over behind her, far 
 across the back of her horse. She heard the hiss of 
 something cutting the air, the crash as of splitting 
 wood, a scream of agony and the Indian's ruthless 
 grasp was loosened. Her horse stumbled and seemed 
 to totter beneath her, but again that arm from aloft 
 exerted itself and it seemed as if she were being lifted 
 to the tree tops. Almost before she could realise it 
 she was upon another horse, clasped in the arm of its 
 rider, and they were off like the wind. 
 
 Suddenly she felt the form of the man who held her 
 so closely drop forward with a groan and then 
 straighten again slowly. Exultant yells came from 
 behind them, several arrows whizzed past, and then 
 naught was heard but the thunder of the horse's hoofs 
 upon the frozen road. As her eyes opened invol- 
 untarily, terror possessing them, they fell upon the 
 scene far behind. Two hundred yards away her 
 own horse lay struggling in the road, two human 
 forms stretched near it, another dragging itself to the 
 roadside. Three feathered Indians were some fifty 
 yards nearer, gesticulating wildly. Her brain whirred 
 and buzzed, and consciousness was lost ! 
 
 When she regained her senses she was lying upon 
 the ground. With feeble eyes she glanced wonder- 
 ingly about. To a tree near by a horse was hitched, 
 neath her body were the blankets from the horses and 
 certain garments from the back of man. All was as 
 a dream ; she could account for nothing. Studdif ord 
 was leaning against the big oak, coatless and as pale
 
 262 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 as a ghost. Deep lines stretched across his brow 
 and down his mouth; his eyes were closed, as if in 
 pain. 
 
 An involuntarily moan escaped her lips, and the 
 Captain was at her side almost before it had died 
 away. She was crying. 
 
 " Oh, what have I done ! What have I done ! " 
 
 " Calm yourself, dearest ! You are safe entirely 
 so. See, we are alone, far from those devils. It is 
 but a mile to Jamestown. Be brave and we will soon 
 be at home," he murmured hoarsely, kneeling at her 
 side and lifting her to a sitting posture. 
 
 " Home ! I can never go home ! Oh, God you do 
 not know you do not know ! " 
 
 " There there ! Now, be quiet." 
 
 " How could you know ? I am a murderess I am 
 the wretch ! Kill me ; I cannot live ! " she wailed. 
 
 " Hush ! " he cautioned, lovingly. 
 
 " You could not know you did not know them, 
 Captain Studdiford ! " she cried, sitting bolt upright, 
 glaring wildly about her, then shudderingly plunging 
 her white face against his shoulder. " They were not 
 Indians," she almost whispered. 
 
 "Not Indians! "he gasped. 
 
 " God forgive me no ! It was all a trick to test 
 your courage forgive me to test to test oh! 
 and I allowed you to kill them ! " 
 
 " Speak ! Go on ! What do you mean? " 
 
 " They were our friends not Indians ! My dear- 
 est friends ! Oh, how is it that I am not struck dead 
 for this ? Please heaven, let me die ! " she wailed.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 263 
 
 " My God ! " he exclaimed, after the first bewilder- 
 ing shock. " A trick and I have killed oh, it can- 
 not be true ! " He leaped to his feet, allowing her to 
 fall from his side to the ground, where she lay, a 
 wretched, shivering heap. With a ferocious oath he 
 snatched the big sword from the ground and turned 
 upon her, with eyes blazing, muscles quivering. 
 
 She was looking up at him, those wide blue eyes 
 gleaming piteously. 
 
 " Kill me ! " she murmured, and closed the eyes to 
 await the stroke. 
 
 His big arm relaxed, the sword fell from his nerve- 
 less grasp, clanging to the ground. 
 
 When she reopened her eyes after an age of sus- 
 pense she saw him leaning against the tree, his body 
 shaking with sobs. A second glance and she started 
 to her feet alarmed. 
 
 His broad back was covered with blood. Near his 
 left shoulder the clothing was torn and an ugly, 
 gaping wound leered at her. 
 
 " Oh," she gasped ; " you you are hurt ! " 
 
 "Hurt!" he groaned. "They have killed me! 
 You have killed me you and your friends. I hope 
 you are satisfied with your see? " As he 
 sank to the ground, he pointed feebly to the cruel 
 arrow which he had torn from his side. It lay not 
 far away, grim and bloody. 
 
 The horrified girl glanced at it helplessly and then 
 at the unconscious man, unable to realise. Then she 
 cried aloud in her agony and threw herself upon the 
 prostrate form, moaning:
 
 264 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 "Dead! Dead! Speak to me, Ralph look up! 
 I love you I worship you! You shall not leave 
 me!" 
 
 She kissed the pallid face, caressed the chilling 
 head, sobbing: 
 
 " Forgive me forgive me ! " 
 
 An hour afterward the clatter of hoofs upon the 
 road aroused her from the semi-conscious condition 
 into which her grief had thrown her. Through the 
 gathering darkness she saw horsemen approaching 
 Indian riders ! A moment later they were dismount- 
 ing at her side, and well-known voices were calling to 
 her: 
 
 "Are you hurt?" 
 
 "What has happened?" 
 
 "Killed? My God!" 
 
 It was Far ring, Trask and the other plotters, 
 reeking with excitement. Their horses were wet from 
 the fierceness with which they had been ridden. 
 
 " Do not touch him ! You have killed him ! " she 
 cried, striving to shield the body from Farring's 
 anxious touch. 
 
 "Killed him? Good God, Kate! where did you 
 meet them? " cried Farring, as Trask pulled her from 
 Studdiford's side. 
 
 " Are you not dead? " she finally whispered to the 
 men. 
 
 " We? He killed three of them split their heads ! 
 But the wretches put an arrow into him, after all. 
 What a dreadful thing we have done ! Fairly tricked 
 him to his death ! " cried poor Trask.
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 265 
 
 " Then then it was not you? " cried Kate. 
 
 " Heavens, no ! We found the Indians dragging 
 their dead from the road, three miles back, and knew 
 that something terrible had happened. 
 
 " Thank God ! I am spared that ! But he must 
 not die he shall not! I love him. Do you hear? I 
 love him ! " 
 
 For three weeks the victim of that ill-fated trick 
 hung between life and death. Surgery was crude in 
 the colonies, and the first evidence of restoration was 
 due more to his rugged constitution than to the skill 
 of his doctors. The poor fellow rolled and tossed 
 upon one of Mrs. Fortune's soft beds, oblivious to the 
 kind offices of those about him. They had taken him 
 there at Kate's command, and she had worn herself to 
 a shadow with anguish, love and penitence. She 
 watched him by day and by night in her restless 
 dreams ; her whole existence was in the tossing victim 
 of her folly. Every twitch of that pain-stricken 
 body seemed to show her that he was shrinking from 
 her in hatred. Her pretty face was white and drawn, 
 the blue eyes dark and pitiful, the merry mouth plain- 
 tive in its hopelessness. 
 
 And those jovial tricksters those who had jeered 
 over his lack of courage, the testing of which they 
 had undertaken! They were smitten by their own 
 curses, haunted by their own shame. The fiery Trask, 
 the polished Farring, the ingenious Holmes, with all 
 of Jamestown, prayed for his recovery, and spared 
 no pains to bring to life and health the man who had
 
 266 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 
 
 won that which thej had relinquished hope of hav- 
 ing Kate's love. They were tender, sympathetic, 
 helpful true men and good. 
 
 Kate could not forget the look of disgust she had 
 seen upon Studdiford's face as he stood above her 
 with the great sword in his hand. His first thought 
 had been to kill her ! 
 
 Sitting beside him, bathing the fevered brow, ca- 
 ressing the rumpled hair, holding his restless hands, 
 she could feel her heart thumping like lead, so heavy 
 had it grown in the fear of his awakening. 
 
 Finally the doctors told her that he would recover, 
 that the fever was broken. Then came the day when 
 he slept, cool and quiet, no trace of fever, no sign 
 of pain. 
 
 It was then that Kate forsook him, burying herself 
 in her distant room, guilty and heart-broken, fearing 
 above all things on earth the first repellent glance he 
 would bestow upon her. Once, while he slept, she 
 peered through his door, going back to her room and 
 her spinning with tears blinding the plaintive blue 
 eyes. 
 
 At last, one day, her mother came from the Cap- 
 tain's room and said to her gently : 
 
 '* Kate, Captain Studdiford asks why you do not 
 come to see him. He tells me that for three days he 
 has suffered because you have been so unkind. Go to 
 him, dear ; he promises he will not plead his love if it 
 is so distasteful to you ! " 
 
 Distasteful! The girl grew faint with wonder. 
 Her limbs trembled, her lips parted, her eyes blurred
 
 THE MAID AND THE BLADE 267 
 
 and her ears roared with the rush of blood from her 
 heart. 
 
 " Mother ! " she whispered, at last, steadying her- 
 self against the wall. " Are you sure, Mother? " 
 
 " That he wants you? My child, his eyes fill with 
 tears when he thinks of you. I have seen them moisten 
 as he lies looking from the window." 
 
 But Kate was gone. 
 
 When Mrs. Fortune opened the door to the sick 
 man's room soon afterward she drew back quickly, 
 closed it again, and, lifting her eyes aloft, murmured " 
 
 " God make them happy !
 
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