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diff --git a/30618-h/30618-h.htm b/30618-h/30618-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcb58cc --- /dev/null +++ b/30618-h/30618-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13921 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wings of the Wind, by Credo Harris + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .STRONG { font-size: larger } + +table { +margin-left:auto; +margin-right:auto; +font-size:85%; +} + +th { +font-size:85%; +font-weight:400; +} + +td.cnum { +text-align:right; +vertical-align:top; +} + +td.pnum { +text-align:right; +vertical-align:bottom; +} + + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .biggap {padding-top: 8em;} + + .right {text-align: right; } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wings of the Wind, by Credo Harris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wings of the Wind + +Author: Credo Harris + +Release Date: December 6, 2009 [EBook #30618] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINGS OF THE WIND *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Odessa Paige Turner and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1><big> WINGS OF THE<br /> +WIND</big><br /> +<small>BY</small><br /> +CREDO HARRIS</h1> + + +<p class="center"> <i>Author of</i><br /> + "TOBY," "SUNLIGHT PATCH,"<br /> + "WHERE THE SOULS OF MEN ARE CALLING,"<br /> + ETC.</p> + + +<p class="center"> BOSTON<br /> + SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br /> + PUBLISHERS</p> + + + + +<p class="center"> Copyright, 1920<br /> + <span class="smcap">By</span> SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY<br /> + (INCORPORATED)</p> + + + + +<p class="center"> TO<br /> + S. THRUSTON BALLARD<br /> + WITH WHOM THE AUTHOR HAS SHARED<br /> + MANY A PLEASANT CAMP-FIRE<br /> + THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED<br /> +</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="Table of Contents" width="75%"> +<tr><th class="right">CHAP.</th> +<th> </th> +<th class="right">PAGE</th></tr> + +<tr> <td class="cnum">I.</td> <td><b>"<span class="smcap">To Adventure and Romance</span>!"</b></td><td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">II.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Mysterious Monsieur</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">III.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Girl in the Café</span></b></td><td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">IV.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Nirvana</span></b></td><td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">V.</td> <td><b>"<span class="smcap">To the Very End</span>!"</b></td><td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">VI.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Voice from the Water</span></b></td><td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">VII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Bomb and a Discovery</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">VIII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Chase Begins</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">IX.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Shot from the Dark</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">X.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Silent Enemy</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XI.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Strange Find</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Hurricane</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XIII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">On to Death River</span>!</b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XIV.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Smilax Brings News</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XV.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Efaw Kotee's Den</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XVI.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Cave Man Sets Forth</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XVII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Rescue</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XVIII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Doloria</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XIX.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Enlightening a Princess</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XX.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Sleeping Beneath God's Tent</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXI.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">Planting a Memory</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">I Love You</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXIII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Attack</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXIV.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">German Cruelty</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXV.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Flying Throne</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXVI.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">A Treasure Box</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td class="cnum">XXVII.</td> <td><b><span class="smcap">The Final Hocus-Pocus</span></b></td> <td class="pnum"><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h2><a name="WINGS_OF_THE_WIND" id="WINGS_OF_THE_WIND"></a>WINGS OF THE WIND</h2> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<h2>"TO ADVENTURE AND ROMANCE!"</h2> + + +<p>At last out of khaki, and dressed in conventional +evening clothes, I felt as if I were indeed writing the +first words of another story on the unmarred page of +the incoming year. As I entered the library my mother, +forgetting that it was I who owed her deference, came +forward with outstretched arms and a sound in her +voice like that of doves at nesting time. Dad's welcome +was heartier, even though his eyes were dimmed with +happy tears. And old Bilkins, our solemn, irreproachable +butler, grinned benignly as he stood waiting to +announce dinner. What a wealth of affection I had to +be grateful for!</p> + +<p>I did not lack gratitude, but with the old year touching +the heels of the new, and Time commanding me to +get in step, my return to civil life held few inducements. +Instead of a superabundance of cheer, I had brought +from France jumpy nerves and a body lean with over +training—natural results of physical exhaustion coupled +with the mental reaction that must inevitably follow a +year and a half of highly imaginative living.</p> + +<p>But there was another aspect less tangible, perhaps +more permanent—and all members of combat divisions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +will understand exactly what I mean. When America +picked up the gauntlet, an active conscience jerked me +from a tuneful life and drove me out to war—for +whether men are driven by conscience, or a government +draft board, makes no difference in the effect upon those +who come through. Time after time, for eighteen +months, I made my regular trips into hell—into a hell +more revolting than mid-Victorian evangelists ever pictured +to spellbound, quaking sinners. Never in this +world had there been a parallel to the naked dangers +and nauseous discomforts of that western front; never +so prolonged an agony of head-splitting noises, lacerations +of human flesh, smells that turned the body sick, +blasphemies that made the soul grow hard, frenzied +efforts to kill, and above all a spirit, fanatical, that +urged each man to bear more, kill more, because he was +a Crusader for the right.</p> + +<p>Into this red crucible I had plunged, and now emerged—remolded. +In one brief year and a half I had lived +my life, dreamed the undreamable, accomplished the +unaccomplishable. Much had gone from me, yet much +had come—and it was this which had come that distorted +my vision of future days; making them drab, +making my fellows who had not taken the plunge seem +purposeless and immature. Either they were out of +tune, or I was—and I thought, of course, that they +were. What freshness could I bring to an existence of +peace when my gears would not mesh with its humdrum +machinery!</p> + +<p>My mother, ever quick to detect the workings of my +mind as well as the variations of my body, had noticed +these changes when I disembarked the previous week, +and had become obsessed with the idea that I stood tottering +on the brink of abysmal wretchedness. So, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +I was marking time the few days at camp until the hour +of demobilization, she summoned into hasty conference +my father, our family doctor, and the select near relatives +whose advice was a matter of habit rather than +value, to devise means of leading me out of myself.</p> + +<p>This, I afterward learned, had been a weighty conference, +resulting in the conclusion that I must have complete +rest and diversion. But as my more recent letters +home had expressed a determination to rush headlong +into business—as a sort of fatuous panacea for jumpy +nerves, no doubt—and since the conferees possessed an +intimate knowledge of the mulish streak that coursed +through my blood, their plans were laid behind my back +with the greatest secrecy. Therefore, when entering the +library this last night in December and hurrying to my +mother's arms, I had no suspicion that I was being +drawn into a very agreeable trap, gilded by my father's +abundant generosity.</p> + +<p>We sat late after dinner. Somewhere in the hall Bilkins +hovered with glasses and tray to be on hand when +the whistles began their screaming. In twenty years +he had not omitted this New Year's Eve ceremony.</p> + +<p>"Your wound never troubles you?" my mother asked, +her solicitation over a scratch I had received ten months +before not disguising a light of pride that charmed me.</p> + +<p>"I've forgotten it, Mater. Never amounted to anything."</p> + +<p>"Still, you did leave some blood on French soil," Dad +spoke up, for this conceit appealed to him.</p> + +<p>"Enough to grow an ugly rose, perhaps," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you grew pretty ones on the cheeks of those +French girls," he chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Pretty ones don't grow any more, on cheeks or anywhere +else," I doggedly replied. "Materialism's the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +keynote now—that's why I'm going back to work, at +once."</p> + +<p>"Oh," the Mater laughed, "don't think of your +father's stupid office, yet!"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing left to think of," I grumbled.</p> + +<p>"Isn't there?" he exclaimed. "What'd you say if +Gates has the yacht in commission, and you take a run +down to Miami——"</p> + +<p>"Or open the cottage, if you'd rather," she excitedly +interrupted him. "I hadn't intended leaving New York +this winter, but will chaperon a house party if you +like!"</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks! Cruise, by all means," he spoke with +good-natured emphasis. "Get another fellow, and go +after adventures and romances and that kind of thing! +Go after 'em hammer and tongs! By George, that's +what I'd do if I were a boy, and had the chance!"</p> + +<p>They waited, rather expectantly.</p> + +<p>"Cruising's all right," I said, without enthusiasm. +"But it's a waste of time to go after romance and adventure. +They died with the war."</p> + +<p>"Ho!—they did, did they?" he laughed in mock derision. +"What's become of your imagination—your +vaporings? You used to be full of it!" And the Mater +supported him by exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Why, Jack Bronx! And I used to call you my +Pantheist! Don't tell me your second sight for discovering +the beautiful in things has failed you!"</p> + +<p>"It got put out by mustard gas, maybe," I murmured, +remembering with bitterness some of the fellows +who had been with me.</p> + +<p>What was romance here to the colorful, high-tensioned +thing I had seen in devastated areas where loves of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +gradations were torn and scattered and trampled into +the earth like chaff! Fretfully I told them this.</p> + +<p>They exchanged glances, yet she continued in coaxing +vein:</p> + +<p>"You're such a big baby to've been such a big soldier! +Don't you know that romance is always just over +the hill, hand in hand with adventure—both lonely for +someone to play with? Wars can't kill them! It's after +wars, when a nation is wounded, that they become priceless!"</p> + +<p>"By George, that's right," Dad cried. "Come to +think of it, that's exactly right! And Gates has the +same crew of six—men you've always known! Even +that rascal, Pete, cooks better 'n ever! The <i>Whim</i>, you +can't deny, is the smartest ninety-six foot schooner +yacht that sails! I say again that if I had the chance +I'd turn her free on whatever magic course the wings of +the wind would take her! That I would—by George!"</p> + +<p>And there was a note of deep appeal in the Mater's +voice as she asked:</p> + +<p>"Why not get that boy you wrote so much about—Tommy +what's-his-name, the Southerner? I like him!"</p> + +<p>This plan, which I now saw had been so carefully prepared—fruit +of the secret conference—was but one in +the million or so of others throughout America nurtured +and matured by the brave army of fathers, mothers, +wives, sisters, daughters, who stayed at home and gave +their all, waiting with alternate hopes and fears, looking +with prayerful eyes to the day that would bring a certain +one back into their arms. What difference if some +plans were elaborate and some as modest as a flower? +Who would dare distinguish between the cruise on a +private yacht and the cake endearingly made in a hot +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>little kitchen for the husky lad just returned from overseas? +Each was its own best expression of pride and +love. Each said in its tenderest way: "Well done, my +own!"</p> + +<p>A lump came into my throat.</p> + +<p>"It's rather decent of a fellow to have two such corking +forbears," I murmured.</p> + +<p>The Mater turned her gentle eyes to the fire, and Dad, +clearing his throat in a blustering way—though he was +not at all a blustering man—replied:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's rather decent of us to have a son who—er, +I mean, who—well, er——"</p> + +<p>"A cruise hits me right," I exclaimed, hurriedly +coming to his rescue, for neither of us wanted a scene. +"And I'll wire Tommy Davis, Mater—the chap you +mentioned. He's a corking fellow! I didn't write you +how the battalion started calling him 'Rebel' till he +closed up half a dozen eyes, did I? You see, in the beginning, +when we were rookies, the sergeant had us up +in formation to get our names, and when he came to +Tommy that innocent drawled: 'Mr. Thomas Jefferson +Davis, suh, of Loui'ville, Jefferson county, Kentucky, +suh.' You could have heard a pin drop. The sergeant, +as hard-boiled as they come, stood perfectly still and +let a cold eye bore into him for half a minute, then +gasped: 'Gawd! What a wicked little rebel!'"</p> + +<p>They laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you bring him home with you?"</p> + +<p>"Same reason he couldn't take me home with him. +There were people waiting, and turkey, and—but he +won't want to go," I added. "He's crazy about a girl +down there!"</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks," my father chuckled. "Any normal +fellow'll want to cruise! I'll wire him myself—this +very night!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bilkins entered with the tray, wishing us a happy +new year. Outside the whistles were beginning to blow. +After we had pledged each other, and drunk to 1919, +the Mater, a light of challenge in her eyes, looked at me +and gave another toast:</p> + +<p>"To a cruise and an adventure, Jack!"</p> + +<p>"To romance," Dad cried, gallantly raising her fingers +to his lips.</p> + +<p>There was no use being a wet blanket, so with a laugh +I said:</p> + +<p>"To adventure and romance!—Mater, if they're still +on earth I'll bring them home to you!"</p> + +<p>I knew it was a very silly toast, but let it go to please +them—for why disillusion those who believe in the actuality +of nonexistence?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE MYSTERIOUS MONSIEUR</h2> + + +<p>Ten days later Tommy and I—and Bilkins, whom I +had begged of my father at the eleventh hour—stepped +off the train at Miami, stretched our arms and breathed +deep breaths of balmy air. Gates, his ruddy face an +augury of good cheer, was there to meet us, and as he +started off well laden with a portion of our bags, Tommy +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Reminds me of the old chap in that picture 'The +Fisherman's Daughter'!"</p> + +<p>The description did fit Gates like an old glove, yet +his most dominant characteristic was an unfailing loyalty +to our family and an honest bluntness, both of +which had become as generally recognized as his skill +in handling the <i>Whim</i>—"the smartest schooner yacht," +he would have told you on a two-minute acquaintanceship, +"that ever tasted salt."</p> + +<p>"We might open the cottage for a few days, Gates," +I said, as we were getting into the motor.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, sir," he replied, caressing a weather-beaten +chin with thumb and finger, "the <i>Whim</i>'s been +tugging at her cable mighty fretful this parst fortnight! +The crew hoped you'd be coming aboard at once, sir. +Fact is, we're wanting to be told how you and Mr. +Thomas, here, licked those Germans."</p> + +<p>"Angels of the Marne protect me," Tommy groaned. +"Gates, I wouldn't resurrect those scraps for the Kaiser's +scalp!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, he will," I promised, smiling at the old fellow's +look of disappointment. "He'll probably talk you to +death, though; that's the only trouble."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," Tommy said, "we'll chuck the +cottage idea and go aboard; then tonight, Gates, you +pipe the crew—if that's the nautical term—whereupon +I'll hold a two-hour inquest over our deceased war, on +condition that we bury the subject forever more. We +came down here to lose the last eighteen months of +our lives, Gates, not keep 'em green. Maybe you don't +know it, but we're after the big adventure!"</p> + +<p>His eyes twinkled as he said this, and his face was +lighted by a rare smile that no one possessed more +engagingly than Tommy. While he treated the probability +of an adventure with tolerant amusement, such +was his inherent love of it and so developed was his capacity +for "playing-true," that he sometimes made +me think almost anything might turn up. I was quite +unaware that my mother had written him, or that he, +in return, had promised to keep her fully advised of +my improvement—a state which was already beginning.</p> + +<p>"I carn't see how you help talking of it, sir—all that +gas, and liquid fire, and bursting shells," Gates stared +at him in perplexity.</p> + +<p>"It's an effort, but I refuse to turn phonograph like +some of the old timers—not that I love 'em any less +for it, Lord knows!" Then he began to laugh, and +turned to me, adding: "One of the first things I did +after getting home was to drop in on a very dear gentleman +who's been a friend of our family since the +Ark. He came at me with open arms, crying: 'Well, +Thomas, sit right down and tell me about your experiences!' +I side-tracked that—for I hate the word.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +We didn't go over for <i>experiences</i>! But he wouldn't +be denied. 'Try to think,' he commanded. 'Why, +Thomas, old as I am, I remember when Stonewall Jackson +struck that brilliant blow——' and you can shoot +me for a spy, Jack, if he didn't keep me there five hours +while he fought the entire Civil War! No sir-ee! After +tonight, never again!"</p> + +<p>But Tommy's talk, to which the crew listened in rapt +attention, consumed nearer six than two, or even five +hours. These men were hungry for authentic first-hand +information—being too old to have sought it for +themselves.</p> + +<p>It must not be inferred that the <i>Whim's</i> crew consisted +of the ancient and decrepit. More than once +my father had said that if ever he should get in a +tight place there was no band of six he would rather +have at his back than this one headed by Gates; nor +did he except Pete, the prince of cooks. Yet who, by +the wildest stretch of fancy, could have contemplated +tight places or dangers as the trim yacht rode peacefully +at anchor an eighth of a mile off our dock at smiling +Miami? To every man aboard such things as death +and the shedding of blood had ceased with the armistice, +and Gates would have taken his oath, were it asked of +him, that our course pointed only toward laughing waters, +blue skies, and emerald shore-lines.</p> + +<p>Early next morning we were under way when Tommy +pounded on my stateroom door, challenging me to a dip +overboard. There was a glorious joy in his voice, +as far reaching as reveille, that found response in +the cockles of my heart. Gates, never happier than +when standing beneath stretched canvas, hove-to as +he saw us dash stark naked up the companionway +stairs and clear the rail head-first, but he laid by only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +while we had our splash and continued the course southward +the moment our hands grasped the gangway.</p> + +<p>"We're cruising, not swimming," he said bluntly, +as we reached the deck. "But I'll say this," he called +after us, "you're both in about as fine condition as men +get to be. I'll give <i>that</i> to the Army!" Which was +true, except for the fact that I might have been pronounced +overtrained. Tommy and I were as hard as +nails, our skin glowed like satin—but, better than this, +his spirit was quick with the love of living, charged +with a contagion that had already begun to touch my +own.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later he mumbled through a crumbling +biscuit:</p> + +<p>"If Pete ever cooked better grub than this it was +in a previous incarnation!"</p> + +<p>"Man achieves his greatest triumph but once in +life," I admitted. "It's self-evident."</p> + +<p>One loses track of time while sailing in south Florida +waters. There is a lassitude that laughs at clocks; the +lotus floats over the waves even as over the land, and a +poetic languor steals into the soul breeding an indifference +to hours and days—wretched things, at best, that +were only meant for slaves! Neither of us realized our +passing into Barnes Sound, and saw only that the +<i>Whim</i>, sails gracefully drawing, cut the water as cleanly +as a knife.</p> + +<p>Another day passed during which we shot at sharks, +or trawled, or lay on deck smoking and occasionally +gazing over the side at displays of fish and flora twenty +feet beneath us. But upon the third morning I asked:</p> + +<p>"Where are we bound, Gates?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thomas says Key West, sir, and then Havana."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Thomas, indeed," I laughed, for it was exactly +like Tommy to take over the command of a ship, or +anything else that struck his fancy.</p> + +<p>Before leaving Miami he had received a twenty page +letter from the Bluegrass region of Kentucky which +threw him into a state of such volatile ineptitude that +I was well satisfied to let him give what orders he would, +sending us to the world's end for all I cared. In a very +large measure Tommy's happiness was my own, as I +knew that mine would always be dear to him.</p> + +<p>During our most trying hours in France, thoughts +of this wonderful girl, whose name was Nell, unfailingly +kept his spirits high. In moments of confidence that +come to pals on the eve of battle I saw that some day +they might be eternal "buddies"—certainly if he had +his way; and toward this achievement he had been, +since graduating from the University of Virginia, directing +every effort to build up a stock farm which his +family had more or less indifferently carried for generations. +Next to winning Nell, his greatest ambition +was to raise a Derby winner—according to him a more +notable feat than being President.</p> + +<p>The sixth of April, 1917, had caught him with a promising +string of yearlings, each an aristocrat in the equine +world of blue-bloods, each a hope for that most classic +of American races. But he had thrown these upon the +hands of a trainer and submerged his personal interests +six hours after Congress declared war. At the same +moment, indeed, all of Kentucky was turning to a +greater tradition than that of "horses and whiskey"; +and, by the time the draft became operative, the board +of one county searched it from end to end without finding +a man to register—because those in the fighting age, +married or single, with dependents or otherwise, had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +previously rushed to the Colors. This, and the fact +that his state, with three others, headed the nation +with the highest percentage in physical examinations, +added luster to the shield of his old Commonwealth—though +he roundly insisted that 'twas not Kentucky's +manhood, but her womanhood, who deserved the credit. +After our cruise he was going back to the thoroughbreds, +now within a few months of the required Derby +age; and of course I had promised to be on hand at +Churchill Downs when his colors flashed past the grandstand.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon the <i>Whim</i> docked at Key West +and, while Gates was ashore arranging for our clearance, +Tommy and I ambled up town in search of daily +papers. We were seated in the office of a rather seedy +hotel when its proprietor approached, saying:</p> + +<p>"'Scuse me, gents,—are you from that boat down +there?"</p> + +<p>I answered in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Going to Havana?"</p> + +<p>This, too, I admitted.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's a feller by the desk who missed the +steamer, and he hoped—er——"</p> + +<p>"We'd take him over," Tommy supplied the halting +words. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>Turning, we easily distinguished the man by his +timid glances in our direction.</p> + +<p>"Whiz-bang," Tommy whispered. "What the deuce +would you call it, Jack?"</p> + +<p>Except for his age, that might have been sixty, he +was most comical to look upon—in stature short and +round, suggesting kinship with a gnome. His head +seemed too large for the body, yet this might have been +because it carried a plenteous shock of straw-colored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +hair, with mustache and beard to match. He was attired +in "knickers" and pleated jacket, that looked +as if he'd slept in them, and his fat legs were knock-kneed. +On the floor about his feet lay almost every +conceivable type and age of traveling bag, with the inevitable +camera.</p> + +<p>"What's his name?" Tommy asked, not that that +would have made any difference if his passport were in +order.</p> + +<p>"Registered as 'Monsieur Dragot, of Roumania,'" +the proprietor answered.</p> + +<p>"Roumania!" Tommy looked at me. "Let's go meet +him, Jack."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dragot turned out to be the original singed +cat, for assuredly he possessed more attractive qualities +inside than were exteriorly visible, and from a first +shyness that did not lack charm he expanded briskly. +After visiting a "dry" café, to seal this fortunate acquaintanceship—as +he insisted upon calling it—he +warmed up to us and we to him, with the result that +his bags were soon carried down and stowed in our spare +stateroom. Leaving him there, we went on deck.</p> + +<p>"Dragot," Tommy mused. "Speaks with a slight +accent, but I can't make out what!"</p> + +<p>"Roumanian, possibly," I suggested, "as he comes +from there."</p> + +<p>"You rather excel yourself," he smiled. "Registering +from Roumania, however, isn't prima facie evidence +that he's a Roumanian."</p> + +<p>"He's a clever little talker, all the same."</p> + +<p>"Right O! Too clever. I'm wondering if we aren't +a pair of chumps to take him."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p><p>"He may be a crook, for all we know. Did you notice +what he said about holding a commission from +Azuria, and then hurrying to explain that Azuria isn't +on the ordinary maps—just a wee bit of a kingdom up in +the Carpathians, yet in the confines of Roumania? I +call that fishy!"</p> + +<p>"Not entirely so, Tommy. When you said it might +now be turning into a republic, did you notice how +proudly he declared that the descendants of Basil the +Wolf couldn't be humbled?—that, situated in Moldavia, +and escaping the ravages of the Bulgarian army, they +were stronger today than ever?"</p> + +<p>"Sounds like raving, sonny. Who the dickens is +Basil the Wolf? No, Jack, that doesn't tell us anything."</p> + +<p>"It tells us he couldn't have been inspired like that +unless the place and people were real to him!"</p> + +<p>"Well, pirate or priest," Tommy laughed, "he'll do +if he waltzes us up to the big adventure. You're about +fit enough to tackle one now!" During the past forty-eight +hours he had openly rejoiced with Gates at my +improvement and tried, with the indifferent success of +an unbeliever, to play up at top speed that silly idea +of an approaching adventure.</p> + +<p>We had strolled aft, and now stopped to watch a tall +Jamaica negro—or so we thought him to be—asking +Gates for a place in the crew. His clothing was too +scant to hide the great muscles beneath, and Tommy +touched my arm, saying:</p> + +<p>"There's a specimen for you!"</p> + +<p>Had he been cast in bronze a critic might have said +that the sculptor, by over-idealizing masculine perfection, +had made the waist too small, the hips too slender, +for the powerful chest and shoulders; the wrists and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>ankles might have been thought too delicate as terminals +for the massive sinews leading into them. He +smiled continually, and spoke in a soft, almost timid +voice.</p> + +<p>"I like that big fellow," I said. Perhaps I had been +well called a pantheist, having always extravagantly +admired the perfect in form or face or the wide outdoors.</p> + +<p>Feeling my interests he turned from Gates, looking at +me with dog-like pathetic trustfulness. Among the +things he told us briefly—for the crew stood ready to +cast off—was that he once followed the sea, but in +more recent years lived by fishing up sponges and at +times supplying shark meat to the poorer quarter of +Key West. The carcass of a water fowl tied to his +boat, while he occupied himself with sponges, would +sometimes attract a shark; then he would strip, take +a knife in his teeth, and dive.</p> + +<p>I glanced at Gates, but saw no incredulity in his +face.</p> + +<p>In another hour, at nearly dusk, Key West had grown +small and finally sank below the horizon, leaving only +its three skeleton-like towers standing against the sky—standing +erect with all nerves strained, watch-dogs of +the darkening sea; ears cocked, to catch a distressed +cry from some waif out in the mysterious night.</p> + +<p>Looking back along our wake I imagined the big black +man standing as we had left him on the dock, gazing +after us with patient regret; and I was glad to have +given him the handful of coins at parting, little dreaming +how many times that loaf upon the water would +come floating in to me.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Dragot revealed himself more and more +to our astonished eyes as we sat that night on deck. +He had been a professor in the University of Bucharest,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +and hinted at an intimate entente with the reigning +house of Azuria. Besides being versed in many sciences, +including medicine, he spoke seven languages and read +several others. But these things were drawn from him +by Tommy's artful questions, rather than being said +in boastfulness. Indeed, Monsieur was charmingly, almost +touchily, modest. Of his business in Havana he +gave no hint, yet this happened to be the one piece of +information that Tommy seemed most possessed to find +out.</p> + +<p>"You'll be in Cuba long, Monsieur?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No one can say. A day, a week, a month, a year—it +is an elusive search I follow, my young friends. +May I call you that?"</p> + +<p>We bowed, and I deferentially suggested:</p> + +<p>"If we can help you in any way?——"</p> + +<p>"It is the beautiful spirit of America," he sighed, +"to help those in distress, yet there is nothing to do +but watch—watch. For you have not yet been here +long enough to see a child in these waters—no?"</p> + +<p>Tommy, perhaps because he came from the South +and was on more or less friendly terms with superstitions, +glanced over the rail as if an infant might be +floating around almost anywhere. Our strange guest's +mysterious hints were, indeed, rather conducive to +creeps.</p> + +<p>Then, without further comment, he arose, tossed his +cigar overboard, ran his fingers through his mass of +hair, and went below.</p> + +<p>"What d'you suppose he meant?" I asked, in a +guarded voice.</p> + +<p>"Simple enough," Tommy whispered. "He's got +apartments to let upstairs."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get out, man," I laughed. "That chap has more +sense than either of us!"</p> + +<p>"Then he'd better come across with some of it. You +remember the freckled lad at Soissons who got fuzzy-headed +from too much concussion? Well, he saw children +around everywhere, too! It's a sure sign, Jack!" +But now he laughed, adding: "Oh, I suppose our little +Roumanian's all right, only——"</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by Monsieur, himself, who +emerged from the companionway door.</p> + +<p>"I come again," he smiled apologetically, "because +tomorrow our journeys part, and I have shown scant +consideration for your kindness."</p> + +<p>"It's we who feel the obligation," Tommy murmured. +"Now, if we could only help you find the child—supposing, +of course, that's what you're watching for!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur gave a deep sigh, appearing to be quite +overcome by a secret grief; but after a moment he +looked at us, asking ingenuously:</p> + +<p>"You think my behavior unusual?"</p> + +<p>"Well, since you make a point of it," I laughed, and +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I see, I see! But, my young friends, you must take +my word that I cannot tell you much." He drew us +nearer. "This I may say: that, after Roumania dropped +out of the war, the new Chancellor of Azuria wired +imploringly for me to leave my classes at the University +and come to him—because for years I have +advised with Azurian statesmen, frequently going on +special missions. By the recent death of the old Chancellor +a certain paper came to light. This was a secret +agent's report sent from Havana in 1914——I may +not divulge its contents. But for the war it would +have been followed up at once. Whether the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +hopes exist now—well, I am here to discover. Ah, +my young friends," his voice trembled, "much depends +upon this! I must—I must find the child if it +lives!"</p> + +<p>Tommy's eyes grew round.</p> + +<p>"I can say no more," Monsieur added. "Accept my +thanks and gratitude for the help you have given me. +And now—<i>bon soir</i>."</p> + +<p>He bowed, backing himself toward the stairs as +though leaving a royal presence, doing it so easily, so +naturally, that we did not even smile. When he had +quite disappeared we turned and faced each other.</p> + +<p>"What do you think now?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I think he's a treasure," Tommy cried. His face +had lighted with a new excitement. "If we want any +fun on this trip, don't let him get out of our sight! +Stick to him! I won't deny he has a screw loose, +but——"</p> + +<p>"That makes it all the better," I laughed, adding: +"Looks like the Mater's toast might come true, after +all, doesn't it!"—for I had described our New Year's +Eve to Tommy.</p> + +<p>"Sonny, I've a hunch we won't even have to tiptoe +over the hill to find adventures with him around! +He's their regular hanging-out place!"</p> + +<p>Gates came up, and seemed vastly amused when we +told him of our hopes.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't look like much of an adventurer, sir, but +he's certainly a change from the great run of people +I've met. Still, I carn't see how we're going to keep +him against his will!"</p> + +<p>"Neither can I, Tommy."</p> + +<p>"Use a little persuasion."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But suppose he won't persuade?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of crossing bridges," Tommy +grinned. "If he won't persuade, then sit on his head—anything, +I don't care! The main thing is—keep him!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE GIRL IN THE CAFÉ</h2> + + +<p>Next morning began the conversion, or rather the +persuasion, of Monsieur Dragot to remain a while longer +with the <i>Whim</i>. Pete started off with another triumphant +breakfast and before our guest had gone far +with it his face was agleam with pleasure. Tommy +and I put ourselves out to be agreeable, telling him +jokes that sometimes registered but frequently did not. +Yet we were on most affable terms when, stuffed to repletion, +we leaned back and lighted cigarettes.</p> + +<p>"Professor," Tommy suggested, "I think if you stay +with us you'll have a better chance to find that child!"</p> + +<p>Our guest beamed agreeably at the appelative, then +looked toward me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure of it," I said. "We've nowhere to go +but anywhere, and that ought to fall in with your +plans."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu</i>, you overwhelm me! You mean I may +sail about with you, searching?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing simpler," I assured him. "We've rather +taken a fancy to you, haven't we, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"Double it," Tommy laughed. "We agreed last +night that you looked like a million-dollar bill to us!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boys," Monsieur sputtered with embarrassment +and pleasure, "you disarm my power to thank +you—see, I blush!"</p> + +<p>"Damned if he isn't," Tommy grinned at me. "What +d'you know about this little gezabo, anyhow!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>Monsieur's face grew more composed as he showed +his interest in a new word.</p> + +<p>"You say—gazebo?" he asked, blandly. "Is that not +a belvedere?"</p> + +<p>"Gazebo is, yes; but I said gezabo—that's you!"</p> + +<p>"Your American Indian language?"</p> + +<p>"Sure thing. Pure talk. If you're interested in +Indians, stick around. Why not get the Havana police +to help us hunt the kiddie?"—I had known that before +long Tommy would be using a first personal pronoun.</p> + +<p>"Bah! They are of no value! But even I have +small hope of finding her. The report was written +nearly six years ago, and she has been gone upwards +of twenty years."</p> + +<p>"So it's a she," Tommy looked over at me and +nodded. "Well, nearly six years, and upwards of +twenty, plus what she was when she left home, leads +me to believe the lady's almost old enough to take care +of herself!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur considered this a great joke, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"It is not so much as that! She is but three—to me, +always three! Yet, as you say, I might better find her +with you than anywhere! A despairing search, my +boys!"</p> + +<p>Tommy's eyes were twinkling as he murmured sympathetically:</p> + +<p>"If it's a three-year-old you want, there's a place +in Havana called 'Casa de Beneficencia Maternidad,' +where furtive-eyed damsels leave kiddies at twilight, +ring the doorbell, and beat it. You might pick up one +there, as a last resort."</p> + +<p>"But—but," Monsieur began to sputter, when I +threw an orange at Tommy, explaining to our agitated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +guest that he was a cut-up devoid of ideas, really an +intellectual outcast.</p> + +<p>"Well," he cried, seeming to exude pleasure, "I +will stay with you a while, eh? Maybe we can teach +him something—this cut-upping Tommy of yours!"</p> + +<p>He had fallen in with our scheme most agreeably, and +later Tommy confided to me that he was glad we +wouldn't have to sit on the old fellow's head.</p> + +<p>Passing that afternoon beneath Morro Castle, the +<i>Whim</i> tacked prettily through the entrance of Havana +harbor and in another scant two miles dropped anchor.</p> + +<p>Havana Bay is a dancing sheet of water, as bright as +the skies and hardly less contagious than the city's +laughter. But when one drops anchor and then hoists +it up, one recoils from the black and slimy mud those +blue waves hide; and this circumstance, slight as it may +seem, held a potent influence on our future.</p> + +<p>Riding nearby was another yacht, in size and design +very much like the <i>Whim</i>, except that her rigging had +an old-fashioned cut. Her masts were checked with +age and, where our craft showed polished brass, she +long ago had resorted to white paint. At the same time, +she gave the impression of aristocracy—broken-down +aristocracy, if you choose. No bunting fluttered at her +masthead, no country's emblem waved over her taffrail, +and the only hint of nationality or ownership was a +rather badly painted word <i>Orchid</i> on her name plate. +Taken altogether, she was rather difficult to place.</p> + +<p>These signs of poverty would have passed unobserved +by us, had we not in coming to anchor swung between +her moorings and the Machina wharf. Not that it made +any serious difference, Gates explained, nor were we +impertinently near, but it just missed being the scrupulously +polite thing to have done—and Gates was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +stickler on matters of yacht etiquette. So he felt uncomfortable +about it, while at the same time being +reluctant to hoist anchor and foul our decks with the +bottom of Havana Bay. To be on the safe side he determined +to megaphone apologies and consult her wishes. +Twice he hailed, receiving no answer. Two sailors were +seated forward playing cards—a surlier pair of ruffians +would have been hard to find—but neither of them so +much as glanced up.</p> + +<p>"Let the professor try in Spanish," Tommy said.</p> + +<p>Monsieur took the megaphone and did so, but with no +better success. Then to our profound admiration he +called in half a dozen languages; finally growling: +"Lascars, likely!"—and proceeded to hail in something +he afterwards explained was Lascar gibberish. All of +which failed to attract the surly pair who played at +cards.</p> + +<p>"Now you might try Airedale and Pekinese," Tommy +suggested, but this was lost on the serious little man. +Yet he did call in another strangely sounding tongue, +then with a sigh laid the megaphone down, saying:</p> + +<p>"They must be stuffies!"</p> + +<p>"Dummies, sir, dummies," Tommy corrected. "Nice +people don't say stuffies, ever!"</p> + +<p>"Your Tommy does so much cut-upping, eh!" he +smiled at me. I had noticed that when preoccupied or +excited the idioms of his various languages got tumbled +into a rather hopeless potpourri.</p> + +<p>Quarantine and customs were passed in the leisurely +fashion of Cuban officials, and Monsieur asked to be +sent immediately ashore, promising to return at sundown. +There was a man, the secret agent, he explained, +who held important information.</p> + +<p>"I'll have the launch for you at Machina wharf, sir,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +Gates told him, but he refused to consider this, declaring +that he could hire any of the boatmen thereabout to +bring him out.</p> + +<p>"He's that considerate, sir," Gates later confided to +me. "But I carn't make head nor tail of him. Bilkins +says he went in to lay out his clothes, and the things +he's got stuck in those bags would astonish you!"</p> + +<p>Nearing six o'clock a skiff drew alongside, being propelled +by one oar—a method much in vogue with +Havana harbormen—and when Monsieur came aboard +we saw at once evidences of disappointment. His arms +hung listlessly, and his large head drooped forward as +if at last its weight had proven too great for the squat +body.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"How do you know there is anything wrong, my boy +Jack?"</p> + +<p>"You look so killingly happy," Tommy said, joining +us.</p> + +<p>Monsieur's pale eyes stared for a moment, then +blinked several times before he murmured:</p> + +<p>"The man I went to see is dead—murdered, just +after he mailed that report. So I have no information. +These police called it suicide because a knife lay in his +hand. Bah! I could place a knife in the hand of any +man I kill!"</p> + +<p>"Was he a friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have never seen him. But he knew something!"</p> + +<p>"He evidently knew too much," Tommy suggested.</p> + +<p>"You speak true, my boy. It seems to be a dangerous +thing here to know too much of certain matters!"</p> + +<p>"Well," I laughed, trying to put a heartiness in my +voice and drive away his depression, "let's go ashore for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +dinner! Then the Opera—and afterwards another bite +where the high life eats? What-say, Professor?"</p> + +<p>As it turned out, however, neither the dinner, nor all +of Tommy's banter, nor Madame Butterfly sung in +Spanish (as if it could!) succeeded in restoring Monsieur +to a normal temper.</p> + +<p>"We've simply got to make him laugh," I whispered +to Tommy. "It's a matter of principle now!"</p> + +<p>"Then wait till we have supper, and get him soused," +my confederate cautiously replied. "That'll do it. But +you'd better not drink much," he added. "How are +the nerves this evening?"</p> + +<p>"I've almost forgotten them," I answered.</p> + +<p>But Tommy was persistent at times. Unknown to +me he was now preparing a report to wire the Mater.</p> + +<p>"Sleeping better?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Lots."</p> + +<p>"Lying to me?"</p> + +<p>"A little," I laughed outright. "But honestly I'm +in heaps better shape!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've seen you improving from day to day, but +we want to put it over right. So don't hit the asphalt +too hard tonight."</p> + +<p>And in all justice to myself and my friendship to +Tommy I really did not intend to. What place was it +that some one said is paved with good intentions?</p> + +<p>Leaving the Opera House we mixed with the laughing +tide that flowed along the Prado, and by the merest +chance—destinies of nations, much less our own, sometimes +rest upon a merest chance—dropped in for supper +at a fashionable place patronized by those who wish +to see the brightest of Havana life. There were other +places, of course, that might have offered quite as much,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +but this one happened to be on the route we had +taken.</p> + +<p>Midnight passed, but still we lingered, seated on the +latticed balcony that encircles an inner court where +cabaret features are held—suggestive of a bull ring. +One rather piquant Spanish girl, playing her accompaniment +on a guitar, gazed softly up at Tommy while +singing about some wonderful Nirvana, an enchanted +island that floated in a sea of love. It was a pretty +song, even if more intense than temperate, and pleased +with it he tossed her a coin; whereupon she tilted her +chin and raised a shoulder, asking in the universal +language of cabarets if she should not come up and +drink a health with the <i>imperioso Señor</i>. But he, whose +heart was beating against a twenty-page letter from a +nymph in the Bluegrass region of Kentucky, laughed a +negative, this time throwing her a flower that she kissed +lightly and put in her hair.</p> + +<p>We had supped well, the mandolins were now tinkling, +incessantly, and this, mingled with the silvery tones of +glasses touched in eager pledges, created an ensemble +of sounds dear to the heart of every true Bohemian. +Effects were good here. The ceilings and walls of our +balcony were lighted by vari-colored electric bulbs artfully +placed amidst growing vines that drooped in festoons +above the tables, producing a fairy-like enchantment. +And, indeed, the café proved to be a mart not +only of enchantments but entertainments, including a +popular gambling salon.</p> + +<p>At last, in desperation seeing that Monsieur refused to +be cheered, Tommy sprang up, saying:</p> + +<p>"Come, gezabo, let's court Dame Roulette! Join us, +Jack?"</p> + +<p>This I declined, and watched them move off arm in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +arm. But a strange thing arrested my attention for, +as they preceded down the corridor, I saw a man in +yachting clothes—the uniform of a captain—draw +quickly back into an alcove as if wanting to escape +discovery. When they had passed he looked out, more +fearfully than curiously, and after a moment of indecision +slowly followed them. Urged by a suspicion that +this was in some way associated with the professor, I +arose and also followed. Yet upon reaching the salon +the stranger was nowhere to be seen. Tommy and +Monsieur were each buying a stack of chips, the place +seemed quiet and orderly, so without being observed I +returned to my table.</p> + +<p>Now left alone I leaned back, idly twisting the stem +of my glass, looking over the sea of merry people who +made a picture that quickened interest. For I am +particularly fond of sitting apart and watching an +assemblage of handsomely groomed men and women +laughing, talking and making love. I like to guess +whether fears or tears or desperate courage hide behind +their gayety; whether the rapidly wagging tongues are +uttering inanities or planning naughty things; whether +the love-making will stop with coffee and liqueur, or, +lighted by them, burn into eternity.</p> + +<p>All phases of human banality and human enigma +seemed to be represented. There were languid beauties +of the Latin type whose drooping eyes might +have expressed <i>ennui</i>, passion, pride—anything, in fact, +that one's humor chose to fancy; the blonde by adoption +was there, with heavy ear-rings of jet, whose habit +was that of looking slant-wise through her cigarette +smoke and raising one black, though carefully plucked, +eyebrow; also there were a few American women, by far +the most smartly dressed. Great was the throb of life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +in this discreet and fashionable café. I felt its tremendous +emphasis, and was content.</p> + +<p>Then, quite without warning, I caught my breath +as my glance fell upon a girl dining with an old chap +but three tables away. Among the habitués of the +Ritzes of two continents there could not have been found +another like her, for never had I beheld a face as +exquisite—and I've seen many. It possessed a beauty +that left me helpless—yet there was an indefinable sadness +in it that might have suggested a haunting fear.</p> + +<p>One of the lights among the vines hung close to her, +and I could see these things. Even could I see the color +of her eyes, deep purple eyes—the tone the wild iris +takes at twilight. When she leaned one way I might +have thought the rich abundance of her hair contained +spun copper or deep red gold, and again I would have +sworn it matched the mellow brown of chestnuts; in all +forming an arrangement of waves, each refusing to stay +in place yet never really getting out of order, each coquetting +with a subtle mischief that found an echo +in her lips. Her neck and shoulders were of that perfection +that men realize but can not analyze; and her +mouth, laughing or in repose, was maddening.</p> + +<p>And there was an added charm quite apart from hair +and eyes and lips. This I had never before seen in +any face. Animation? Yes, and more. Interest in the +life about her? Assuredly, to a very marked degree. +Wildness? That was it!—a wildness, subtly blended +with refinement, that found expression in every quick +look; as if someone had put a fawn there from the forest +and it was trying, half humorously, half confidently, +to keep itself from running away in fright. It was this +glory of wildness that she typified which made my +cheeks grow hot with watching.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>But who has ever made a picture worthy of his +dreams! How, then, can I describe this girl, when +painter, sculptor, writer—all—would miserably fail at +attempting to portray a beauty whereon imagination +might gaze in frank amazement and admit itself surpassed! +Here, indeed, was all the vital, colorful magnetism +of a type that men are quick to die for!</p> + +<p>Her gown—yet how can man describe a woman's +gown? It was a very rich affair and added to the picture. +But this I did observe distinctly, that in revealing +her arms and shoulders there was no slightest hint of +that abandonment of <i>décolleté</i> which denotes the approach +of feminine despair, nor was the color in her +cheeks a result of anything less pure than the kiss of +air and sunshine.</p> + +<p>Her <i>vis-à-vis</i>, almost too old to have been her father, +was one of those whose nationality is difficult to place. +His hair, mustache and Vandyke beard were gray; +he was tall, thin, and perhaps seventy-five years old. +His complexion impressed one most unpleasantly because +of its sallow, almost yellow, hue; and although +I had not yet had a full-face view of him I intuitively +knew that his teeth were long and thin and yellow. +A slight palsy never let his head be still, as if some +persistent agent were making him deny, eternally deny, +an inarticulate accusation—as accusations of the conscience +perforce must be.</p> + +<p>Despite his grumpy silence he showed an air of repressed +excitement, sending frequent, shifty glances +over the room; and that he possessed the temper of a +fiend I did not doubt after seeing him turn upon the +waiter for some trifling omission and reduce that usually +placid individual to a state of amazed incapacity. Then +a quick, really a pitiful, look of terror came into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +girl's eyes as she shrank back in her chair. It lasted +but a second before she was again making herself agreeable—acting, +of course—and I wanted to cross to him +and demand: "Why is this lady afraid?"</p> + +<p>I hated the man; at first sight I loathed him. It was +one of those antipathies sometimes observed in dogs +that see each other from a distance—hair up and teeth +bared. The feeling is spontaneous, unpredictable, and +the usual result is fight.</p> + +<p>Up to this time she had not seen me, or even known +of my insignificant existence; but suddenly, as though +it were a sally of banter whose blade he parried in the +nick of time, her laughter-bathed eyes darted past him +and squarely met my own; her lips sobered into a half +parted expression of interest and, some strange thought—perhaps +unbidden—coming into her mind, sent the +blood surging to her cheeks. As quickly as this happened +it had gone, and again she seemed to be absorbing +the attention of her <i>vis-à-vis</i>.</p> + +<p>Once, years ago in the Dolomites, I thoughtlessly +struck my staff upon a piece of rock when, lo, a wonderful +tone arose therefrom. And the memory of that +rich, unbidden sound was re-awakened now as the +contact of our glances stirred something which thrilled +me with a maddening sense of harmony. As an E string +vibrates when another E is struck somewhere near to it, +so my being vibrated with each tilt of her head, each +movement of her lips. Yet however much I conjured +the magnet of my will to make her look again, she successfully, +if coquettishly, resisted.</p> + +<p>The Spanish waiter came up softly to refill my glass; +an attention I permitted, murmuring happily:</p> + +<p>"Right, kiddo! Stay me with flagons, comfort me +with champagne, for my heart is faint with love!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>—only +Solomon didn't sing it quite like that, the fickle old +dog, nor did my waiter understand me, which was just +as well.</p> + +<p>Engrossed with watching her I saw a new look come +into her face as she quickly whispered something +across the table. Her <i>vis-à-vis</i> turned impatiently as a +man approached them, who to my surprise was the yacht +captain—the fellow who had apparently followed Tommy +and Monsieur. He was a well-built blond, with +a bullet-shaped head, high cheek bones and deep set +eyes—pig eyes. His right cheek bore several scars +which, considering his type, strongly suggested a German +of University dueling experiences. So I looked on +him with a livelier suspicion, even as she seemed to +be doing.</p> + +<p>In an undertone he now said something that brought +the old man to his feet. With fear written on their +faces they talked for several minutes, during which the +blond jerked his head once or twice toward the gambling +rooms. The girl had leaned forward watching +them intently. Then with a peremptory order the old +one sent him away and sank back into his chair; but a +moment later, clutching the tablecloth, he spoke a few +words that made her recoil in evident horror.</p> + +<p>I did not know what to do or what to think, so I +merely watched with every sense alert. I saw him call +the waiter for his settlement, I saw him take out a +large roll of money and with trembling fingers peel off +the outside bill—a new and crinkly fifty-dollar note. +I saw the girl idly marking on the winecard with a +small gold pencil, though her eyes were veiling an +intense excitement; and when the waiter returned with +a pile of change which the old man began to count, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +saw her furtively slip the winecard to her lap. A moment +later it fell to the floor as she arose to leave.</p> + +<p>Together they started toward the exit, but having +taken a few steps she left him with a brief word and returned, +presumably for her glove. Partially free from +his eternal vigilance, she raised her eyes without dissimulation +and looked quickly, appealingly into mine; +then down at her hand, on which she leaned, whose +fingers were unfolding from a little ball of paper. Again +into my eyes she looked—a look of infinite appeal.</p> + +<p>Across the void from her world to my own she was +signaling—trying to tell me what?—and frantically my +fancy sprang to translate the message. But as the man, +with growing agitation, had been watching narrowly +throughout this—a condition of which I felt sure she +must be acutely aware—I dared not make the slightest +sign. Yet she seemed to understand and, joining him, +they passed out.</p> + +<p>I pounced upon that crumpled ball of paper and was +back in my chair unfolding it with nervous fingers. +Feverishly pressing out the creases I saw that it was, +indeed, a corner torn from the winecard, and written +upon it—nothing. Absolutely nothing!</p> + +<p>Perhaps I should have laughed, but as a matter of +fact I cursed. Deep in my soul I cursed. Her little +joke, her pretty bit of acting, had left a stinging sense +of loss. As suddenly as this ruthless comet swept into +my orbit it had swung out and on; for one delicious moment +we had touched across the infinite, but now my +harmony was shattered, the strings of my harp were +snapped, curled up, and could not be made to play +again.</p> + +<p>But the Spanish girl was playing her guitar, once +more singing her impassioned song of the enchanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +island in its sea of love, which made me pity myself so +much that I permitted the waiter again to fill my +glass. What a wondrous adventure this night might +have brought!</p> + +<p>Such thoughts wore not to be profaned by the companionship +of Tommy and Monsieur, so I slipped away, +hailed a cab and alighted at the Machina wharf. The +boatman there, whom I aroused to take me out, was +one of the most stupid fellows I've ever encountered. +At any rate, someone was stupid.</p> + +<p>Going aboard the yacht I stood for a moment listening +to the lonely sweep of his oar sculling shoreward +through the murky night. Over the castellated walls +of La Cabaña raced low, angry clouds. Was it a storm +brewing, or had some supernal madness touched the +night?</p> + +<p>The watch forward called in a guarded voice: "All +right, sir?" to which I answered, "All right," then +went cautiously across deck and crept down the companionway +stairs. The cabin was dark so I felt for my +stateroom, passed in and closed the door. Somehow +my fingers could not locate the light jet, but what matter? +In three minutes I had undressed and was fast +asleep.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<h2>NIRVANA</h2> + + +<p>A pleasant sense of motion came over me that suggested +cradling waves, and I was sleepily wondering +why we had gone out on a day that portended storms, +when a tapping at my stateroom door was followed by +someone whispering:</p> + +<p>"Aren't you ever going to get up, you lazy old dear?"</p> + +<p>It was a girl's voice.</p> + +<p>Gradually and cautiously I drew the sheet about my +chin, feeling no little confused to have a girl five feet +away whispering pet names at me through a thin partition.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you?" she repeated, more sweetly imperious.</p> + +<p>"You bet," I stammered.</p> + +<p>"Then do hurry! It's almost ten, and I've been +waiting such a long time!"</p> + +<p>Whereupon I heard her moving off, pressing her +hands against the panels for steadiness, and there struck +me as having been an endearing pathos in the way she +said: "such a long time!"</p> + +<p>This was, no doubt, some of Tommy's doing. He +had invited friends aboard for luncheon, and was now +daring one of them to play this joke. But my glance +turned to the room, to its equipment and toilette articles +which were large and curiously shaped, and the +numbing truth crept into my brain that the stupid boatman +had put me on the wrong yacht.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>I had known some tight places in France, but this +one simply squeezed me all over. There was nothing +for it, of course, but go out and explain—yet how could +a chap appear at noon draped in a sheet! The situation +confused me, but I decided to search the wardrobe, +of my unknown host, to borrow his razor, appropriate +a new toothbrush that should be found in a box somewhere, +and select flannels and linens in keeping with +the hour. Still balanced between confusion and panic +I must have done these things because, fittingly attired +though with no very good fit, I opened my door, stepped +softly along the passageway, and entered the cabin.</p> + +<p>On a wide couch built in at one side a girl lay reading. +Her head was toward me, but as I advanced she +arose with a low cry of gladness, saying:</p> + +<p>"So you're here at last——!" then with a little gasp +drew back, facing me in the most entrancing attitude of +bewilderment.</p> + +<p>It was the girl who had left that ball of paper!</p> + +<p>The sea, always my friend, at this moment did a +rather decent thing; it gave the yacht a firm but gentle +lurch and sent us into each other's arms. Perhaps +nothing else in all the world of chances could so effectively +have broken the ice between us, for we were +laughing as I helped her back to the couch; and, as our +eyes met, again we laughed.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know," she said, "that Father brought a +guest aboard last night!"</p> + +<p>"Awkward of him, wasn't it?" I stammered, sparring +for time.</p> + +<p>"One is apt to be awkward in weather like this," she +graciously admitted.</p> + +<p>"You don't know how profoundly aware I am of—of +how terribly true that is," I stumbled along. "Is he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +on deck?" For, oh, if I could only get to see him five +minutes alone!</p> + +<p>"No, he's unusually lazy this morning; but I've +called, him, the old dear!"</p> + +<p>A chill crept up my spine—crept up, crept down, and +then criss-crossed. But she must know of her mistake +before we had gone so far that putting me ashore would +be a serious inconvenience—for I knew he would put +me ashore at the nearest point, if not, indeed, set me +adrift in an open boat. Therefore I suggested:</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be a good idea to call him again? +It's rather important!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you think we shouldn't have gone out in a storm +like this? I've been dreadfully uneasy!"</p> + +<p>"No danger at all," I declared, with affected indifference, +adding: "The weather isn't half as rough +as 'the old dear' will be, take my word for it!"</p> + +<p>A shadow of mystification passed over her wonderful +face, yet she smiled with well-bred tolerance, saying:</p> + +<p>"You are quite droll."</p> + +<p>"Drollery is the brother of good fellowship," I replied, +helping her across the reeling cabin. As I had +feared, she went directly to my room where the door +had swung back showing an empty bunk.</p> + +<p>"Why, he's up, after all," she glanced over her +shoulder at me.</p> + +<p>"I believe he is," I idiotically affirmed.</p> + +<p>"But where?"—this more to herself.</p> + +<p>"Hiding, maybe," I ventured, taking a facetious +squint about.</p> + +<p>"Hiding?" she asked, in mild surprise.</p> + +<p>"Er—playing a trick on us! He's a funny old dog +at tricks!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Funny old dog?" She drew slightly away from me. +"Do you mean my father, Mr.—er?"</p> + +<p>"Jack," I prompted, more than ever embarrassed and +wishing the ocean would come up and swallow me; +for I realized, alas, that my gods, by whom I was reasonably +well remembered in so far as concerned +physique, had been shamelessly remiss in their bestowal +of brains.</p> + +<p>"Jack?" she slowly repeated. "What an odd name!"</p> + +<p>This made me feel queer.</p> + +<p>"Where do you live," I asked, "that you think it's +an odd name? The States are crawling with Jacks! +It's even the Democratic emblem!"</p> + +<p>Her perplexity was fast approaching alarm when we +heard a muffled report above, followed by a trembling +of the yacht. Someone called an order that sounded +far away in the wind.</p> + +<p>"Hold tight," I said, "while I see if anything's +wrong!"</p> + +<p>But I did not leave her side, knowing exactly what +had happened. We had snapped our mainsheet, that +was all; letting the boom swing out and putting us in +the trough of the waves where we might expect a few +wobbly minutes until the sailors could work in a new +line. There was no danger and I reassured her at +once, but she merely asked:</p> + +<p>"Was my father on deck?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't look," I answered, wondering why she +thought I knew.</p> + +<p>"Won't you see?" Her patience was becoming exhausted.</p> + +<p>"I'm crazy to. But first let me help you back—you +can't make it alone!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can," she murmured. "I always make +things alone!"</p> + +<p>I tried to fathom the meaning of this, but gave it up +and started to go on deck. If I could take her father +off to one side and explain, well and good. He would +perhaps sympathize with my mistake when he understood +that it was partially the result of a desire to fill +Monsieur with spirits. Considering this, I spoiled everything +by asking:</p> + +<p>"What does he look like?"</p> + +<p>"My father?" she gasped, in a wondering way.</p> + +<p>"No—yes—certainly not! I mean—oh, this is intolerable! +I don't know your father, never saw him in +my life—unless he was the one with you last night +when you drove me frantic with that ball of paper +trick! But what you did has nothing to do with my +being here. I've not wilfully followed. A stupid boatman +mistook your yacht for my own when I was—I +mean to say, when I was too engrossed with the memory +of you to notice his mistake."</p> + +<p>From alarm her look gave way to wonderment, then +almost to mirth. It was a hard place for a girl to be +in, and I expected her to leave me now, find the old +chap and promptly have me hanged to a yard-arm. The +fact that there are no yard-arms on schooner yachts +made no difference. And I do believe she was considering +that when a sailor passed us, looking enough like +Tommy to have been his twin brother.</p> + +<p>"Jack," she said to him, "tell Mr. Graham to come +below!"</p> + +<p>The fellow saluted and left, and I stared at her in +surprise, saying:</p> + +<p>"Then my name can't seem very odd to you, Miss +Graham!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was regarding me as though trying to discover +what kind of a species I was that had got on her +father's yacht, when the sailor came back followed by +a husky brute in uniform. Intuitively I stiffened to +meet the crisis, but even at this eleventh hour a respite +came.</p> + +<p>"He ain't aboard," the other Jack whispered, and the +captain—for the burly one was only the captain, after +all—saluted, saying:</p> + +<p>"I've just now found out, ma'am, he ain't aboard!"</p> + +<p>"Not aboard? What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"After bringing you on last night he went ashore +again to get a little ball of paper, but told me to sail +the minute he returned. I don't understand it, ma'am, +for later the watch woke me to say Mr. Graham had +come."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," I groaned. "It was I, and not your +father, who answered the watch."</p> + +<p>For several minutes we stared blankly into each +other's faces, but it was she who broke the deadly silence.</p> + +<p>"We must hurry back," she calmly told him, adding +with a nervous catch in her breath: "What a joke on +Daddy!"</p> + +<p>"A scream of a joke," I muttered, "——one he'll +roar over till God-knows-when!"</p> + +<p>"We can't go back, Miss Sylvia," the captain now +said. "When our mainsheet parted the boom gybed so +hard that it opened a seam. It may hold on this tack, +and it may not, but we'd sink if the weather hit us on +the other side. So I'm making for Key West."</p> + +<p>A suspicious quiver played over her lips as the big +fellow turned and went upstairs, and I began to hate +myself rather cordially.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you happen to have that—that ball of paper?" +she asked, when the threatened storm of tears had been +controlled.</p> + +<p>"No, I threw it down."</p> + +<p>A look of terror came into her eyes as she gasped:</p> + +<p>"Then he'll find it!"</p> + +<p>"It won't matter if he does! You hadn't written +anything on it!"</p> + +<p>"Did you look on both sides of it?"</p> + +<p>"I—I think so; of course, I must have. Did you +write on the other side?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know which the other side is that you refer +to," she answered with some show of anger. "There +were two sides, you know. Still, it can't much matter +now whether it had any sides or not."</p> + +<p>This was very perplexing, the words no more so than +the way she looked at me while pronouncing them. Yet +I hardly thought it should give her as much concern +as our leaky boat. The storm had grown worse, and +more than once she glanced anxiously at the portholes +whose glass, over half the time, were submerged by +swirls of greenish water.</p> + +<p>"It'll turn out all right," I said, gently. "And you +mustn't be afraid of this storm."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are," I tenderly persisted, "but your +skipper looks like a man who'll bring us through."</p> + +<p>"Your concern is most flattering," she frigidly replied. +"But fear of storms, and distress over the unhappiness +one may be causing others, are quite different +phases of emotion."</p> + +<p>"I stand corrected and rebuked," I humbly acknowledged. +"Yet I want you to know that my concern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +springs from a deeper source than flattery. I want +honestly to assure you——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, there's less danger here than in port," +she continued in the same icy tone, utterly ignoring +me, "for here, at least, we can't be boarded at night +by irresponsible people."</p> + +<p>I winced.</p> + +<p>"By people who drink," she added.</p> + +<p>I winced again, for I seemed to be getting the winces +now, and couldn't stop.</p> + +<p>"That isn't fair, Miss Graham! Circumstances are +against me, but you might suspend judgment till you +know me better!"</p> + +<p>"The circumstances require no further evidence," she +said, with supreme indifference.</p> + +<p>"But circumstantial evidence," I felt pleased at +turning her phrase, "often wears the cap and bells, instead +of the wig and gown!"</p> + +<p>"I'm discovering that," she murmured, and added +with a touch of sarcasm: "The knack of making +a catch phrase is often very agreeable, but presupposes +no presence of an idea."</p> + +<p>Now I thought this most unkind of her, because I +had been quite set up by my retort; so, arising with as +much dignity as the waves would permit, I buttoned +my coat, remarking:</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go on deck, and leave you."</p> + +<p>The coat was tight and, while fastening it, I felt +something in an inner pocket press against my side. +There are few impulses more natural than to investigate +anything that has a curious feel in one's pocket, +so thrusting in my hand I brought forth a small round +frame of brass, made in the imitation of a porthole, encircling +her photograph. This would not have happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +had I remembered being in her father's clothes, but +it was done, and I stood looking first at the picture and +then at her.</p> + +<p>"Give it to me," she cried.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why," I temporized, not at all loath at +having this chance for revenge.</p> + +<p>"It's mine," she imperiously announced.</p> + +<p>"It may be a picture of you, but, as you perceive, not +at this moment your picture," and my eyes lowered +again and lingered on it, for it was indeed a wonderful +likeness, moving me strangely by its amazing beauty. +The frame, too, gave it added charm, as she seemed +really to be looking out of a porthole.</p> + +<p>"Give that to me this instant," she said, with such a +show of passion that I passively surrendered it, and +started to walk away. Yet some cruel power held my +feet. I tried again to move, but could not.</p> + +<p>Overhead the men were working desperately at the +pumps to keep us afloat. One of them left his place and +passed us, whispering:</p> + +<p>"It's no use—we're gone!"</p> + +<p>The cabin was in twilight as I again turned to her. +She had crawled to the far corner of the couch, and +lay staring at the ceiling—waiting. Here in this dismal +room, alone and facing death with a courage amazing +to behold, she made a picture which so stirred me +that despite earlier wounded feelings I went to her +side. The little hands were cold and inert when I took +them, but her fingers tightened ever so gently.</p> + +<p>"Did he say we're going down?" she quietly asked, +without turning her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered—though both of us spoke in +whispers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p><p>"I'm sorry to have been unkind," she said, withdrawing +one of her hands and laying it on the back of +my own—for Death is a great leveler of conventions.</p> + +<p>The pathetic resignation in her voice brought hot +tears to my eyes and, raising her fingers to my lips, I +murmured:</p> + +<p>"You're the sweetest angel I ever knew!"</p> + +<p>For a long time we sat in the gathering darkness, +holding to each other as two little children lost in the +night. Finally I heard her whisper:</p> + +<p>"Why am I not afraid—now?"</p> + +<p>I turned and looked down at her; down into those +eyes gazing back at me through a magnetizing moisture +that drew my face nearer, nearer.</p> + +<p>"Because," I said, "we've found something which +outlives death!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she whispered, as her arms moved sweetly up +around my neck—but the next instant they held me +off, as she gasped: "Look! Look! The end is here!"</p> + +<p>Quite a foot of water was swashing back and forth +over the cabin floor, while a steady stream poured down +the companionway stairs. Yes, the end was here!</p> + +<p>"Take this," she hurriedly pressed into my hand the +round brass frame that held her picture—the frame +fashioned after a porthole. "Keep it—then come to +me! Swear!"</p> + +<p>"I swear," I gasped. "But where shall I find you? +In what strange land will you be?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes were wide with a frightened look that even +in our extremity gave the lie to fear. Through parted, +expectant lips a trembling sigh of inexpressible sweetness +seemed to carry her answer; it was brought by the +mystery of her look, by the clasp of our senses—for I +know she did not speak a word:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I'll wait beneath the palms on one of many, many islands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set as emerald jewels in an ever-changing sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hammock swings beside a pool of purling, crystal water<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisp'ring to the shadows of a lonely Arcady;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Spanish moss hangs solemn in long streamers from the cypress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The paths are soft and noiseless with dead needles of the pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nights are still and fragrant, and I'll wait——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ah!" she broke +the measure with a despairing cry and struggled to get +from my arms, as another voice, far away but familiar, +began to call my name. Then slowly my eyes opened +and beheld Bilkins looking down at me, in my own +stateroom, where my clothes were lying as I had thrown +them off the night before.</p> + +<p>"I've called you twice, sir," he was saying. "It's +almost ten o'clock, and I'm afraid your bath is cold."</p> + +<p>"I want it cold," I murmured, staring up at him. +"God, Bilkins, I've had a most extraordinary dream!"</p> + +<p>"If it's bad don't tell it before breakfast, sir, whatever +you do! Just hold on a minute, and I'll bring +your tray right in!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<h2>"TO THE VERY END!"</h2> + + +<p>I dressed hurriedly, wanting to be on deck and get a +more searching view of the yacht near which we had +anchored. Stepping out into the cockpit, therefore, I +looked hungrily toward her mooring place, but it was +vacant.</p> + +<p>"Where has she gone?" I asked Tommy, who was the +only one about.</p> + +<p>"The etiquette of this yacht requires its owner first +to say 'good morning' when he comes up at break of +day," he grinned at me accusingly. "The little professor +won eight hundred dollars from the proud Castilian +last night—I hope Dame Fortune was as kind to +you!"</p> + +<p>"She was diverting," I admitted. "Where's Monsieur +now?"</p> + +<p>"'Sleep. We didn't turn in till an unholy hour. He +got up at seven from force of habit, fussed around a +while, took some pictures of the neighborhood and developed +them, but by that time the poor old door-mat +couldn't keep his eyes open. Do you know he wept +all the way home last night, telling me how good we +were to him?"</p> + +<p>We laughed.</p> + +<p>"But, Tommy, where's the yacht that was over there +yesterday?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Her? Oh, she cleared this morning—and listen to +me, boy, if you want to see a dream just cast your eye +on that last film of Monsieur's!"</p> + +<p>See a dream! Great heavens, if I wanted to see a +dream!</p> + +<p>He led the way aft to a ribbon of freshly developed +film hanging from the boom to dry and, as I gingerly +raised it to the light, he went on to explain:</p> + +<p>"It was boorish of him, but I'm to blame. We were +standing forward after breakfast snapping the harbor +when that yacht weighed anchor and swung across our +bow less than thirty feet off; and, Jack, with the prettiest +girl I ever saw—barring Nell—looking out at us +through a porthole. 'Shoot her,' I whispered. So he +swung his camera and shot, and she gave a darling little +gasp and ducked."</p> + +<p>I had come to the last negative and there, with the +porthole in exact imitation of the round brass frame, +was the same beautiful face of the same beautiful girl +I'd left in that wondrous dream!</p> + +<p>"Sylvia Graham," I cried.</p> + +<p>"The devil," Tommy straightened up. "Graham's +the chap who owns that boat! Gates found it out this +morning, but how did you know?"</p> + +<p>My eyes were glued to the negative.</p> + +<p>"They cleared for Key West, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"So Gates said. Has he told you?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen him since yesterday," I murmured, +still unable to look away from that strip of gelatine +which held the image of my world.</p> + +<p>"He didn't know anything about it yesterday, +either," Tommy announced, and I felt him regarding +me in some slight amusement, as though he thought +I had a secret up my sleeve that I was trying to keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +from him. "What's the cute little idea, son? I've told +you where she cleared for, now clear me up!"</p> + +<p>"Tommy," I let the film swing back and caught him +by the shoulders, "Miss Graham's father carries a +photograph like that in the inside pocket of a white +flannel coat which hangs behind his stateroom door!"</p> + +<p>He looked me up and down, this time more seriously, +and murmured:</p> + +<p>"Whiz-bang!—but you must have been heroically +decorated last night! Still, I can't see that it hurt you +much, for you look about twice as fit as when we left +Miami."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet I didn't drink an ounce more than you, +or Monsieur," I declared. "The facts of the matter +are, Tommy, that there's a lot mighty curious about +this picture!"</p> + +<p>"Really?" he grinned. "You go below and take +something with a dash of bitters in it."</p> + +<p>"Dry up," I snapped. "I tell you I'm going to +catch up with that yacht if we have to follow her around +the world!"</p> + +<p>He gave a low whistle, saying with good-natured tolerance:</p> + +<p>"Looks like the big adventure's on the wing, doesn't +it! Well, I don't mind chasing the old tub, or doing +any other damphule thing in reason, but what's the +game? Put me next! When was this earthquake that +loosened all your little rivets? Speak up, son—I'm +your <i>padre</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It's hard to explain," I turned again to the negative, +feeling too serious for his asinine humor. "But +I'll honestly try to before night. This girl needs me. +I don't know why or how, but she does. What's more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +I'm going to find her. It's the most unheard-of situation, +old man."</p> + +<p>"I'd be ashamed to belittle a situation like this by +the mere term 'unheard-of,'" he now laughed outright. +"Anyhow, she doesn't need you at present +quite as much as you need scientific attention—and I +hear the professor moving around!"</p> + +<p>Stepping to the companionway door he bawled some +nonsense to our guest about bringing up his medicine +chest and a rope, then turned back to me.</p> + +<p>"You see, Jack, I consider this to be serious. As +long as I've known you that lady in the porthole is the +first female you've ever thought of with any sign of, +what I might call, <i>ardeur</i>. Where you met her is your +business, but how you're going to get her must naturally +concern us all. Hence Monsieur to consult with!"</p> + +<p>We could hear Monsieur's grunts and wheezes before +he appeared, and on catching sight of me he actually +skipped to us. It was a grotesque exhibition that made +me burst out laughing. His hair was tousled, his eyes +were half closed, and he looked about as much like a +scrambled egg as anything I could think of.</p> + +<p>"We lost you last night," he cried. "You ran away +from us?"</p> + +<p>"He was poisoned," Tommy blandly answered, "and +now his heart's kind of upside-down and twisty."</p> + +<p>"Upside-down and twisty?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Tommy doesn't mean it's anything dangerous, just +an affection; a kind of—a kind of——"</p> + +<p>"A kind of affectionate affection," Tommy put in. +"You see, he was stung there, and it itches, and he +can't scratch it."</p> + +<p>"Stung on the heart? <i>Sacré nomme!</i>" The old fellow +clasped his head in both hands and stared at us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You fascinating little ass," Tommy murmured, "did +you ever hear of love?"</p> + +<p>"Love?" the professor's face beamed into twice +its usual breadth. "You, my boy Jack? Is she a +Spanish mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, whoever heard of a Spanish mademoiselle! +No, Jack says that she's a lady in need, who +lives in the pocket of her father's white serge coat that +hangs behind his stateroom door; and she's in a helluva +lot of trouble, but Jack doesn't know where else she +is, so we're going to comb out the universe and find +her! Get the idea?"</p> + +<p>"I will drink some coffee," he stammered, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Tommy and I decided that we must be after the +<i>Orchid</i> without losing a minute, as there was still a +chance of drawing in sight of her before she could leave +Key West. Yet I first had a mission to fulfill at the +café, nor did I confide this at once to him lest he brand +me a total wreck. I knew that he was delighted at the +prospect of this bizarre chase, however chimeric it +might seem to him, for he possessed the faculty of +"playing-true" even in the veriest of fairy-tales. So +for the moment I let the other matter rest, not realizing +at the time that he had read more of it in my face than +I meant to show.</p> + +<p>Gates, also, had caught the excitement and was waiting +with the launch to push off; and thus, while he +concluded official duties at the port, I entered the +café—in the present unfriendly light a changed place +from the night before. As luck would have it, my own +waiter was the first man I saw.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember finding a small piece of crumpled +paper on my table last night?" I asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>, Señor; the mad <i>caballero</i> came for it."</p> + +<p>"Did he get it?"</p> + +<p>"But, no, Señor," the waiter lowered his voice. "Yet +he came near to, being much angry, and calling you—pardon +me!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what? What, man?"</p> + +<p>He still hesitated, so I carelessly took out my wallet. +It's amazing, the power of a wallet!</p> + +<p>"He demanded the paper of our <i>maître d'hôtel</i>, saying +you, Señor, were a pig of a detective—and as we +admire the detective not at all, everyone searched for +it. But I had seen other things, Señor," he smiled +knowingly.</p> + +<p>"You have it?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, si,</i>—but not so loud! Could I give it to the old +one? Even a poor waiter may sometimes observe! <i>Mas +vale saber que haber, Señor</i>," he shrugged and smiled +as the ancient proverb slipped from his tongue.</p> + +<p>"You've a mighty level head on you, kid," I agreed; +a metaphor he may or may not have understood. There +was no doubt in my mind that his words, "wisdom is +better than wealth," were never more aptly spoken.</p> + +<p>"I saw it after you left, Señor, and put it away—so! +The mad <i>caballero</i> soon came—he was not happy. +We searched the floor, and all the time he was shaking +his head and mumbling that Mademoiselle had confessed +to writing it—and to a detective! He was quite +crazy. Ah, with what care and sympathy did I help +him, Señor, and how generously did he reward my careful +search!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged and smiled, then drew the paper from +his pocket, and I slipped it into mine—passing him +back another kind of paper that he slipped into his +with a grateful bow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know who the man is, or if that was his +daughter?"</p> + +<p>"No, Señor. I have seen them, but can not remember +where. Carlos served their table—but Carlos is +stupid," he shrugged compassionately.</p> + +<p>The moment my cab turned the first corner I feverishly +took out that precious paper. Sure enough, on +one side were marks <i>I</i> had not seen, but the pencilling +was very faint—having had the soft tablecloth for a +desk, perhaps—and showed only a meandering line, +curving in and out through a group of dots. From +every angle I studied it, coming to two conclusions: +first, that it could mean nothing; and second, that I +must have imbibed more freely than I thought to have +overlooked this.</p> + +<p>But now I saw, fainter than the dots, something that +resembled written words. They were so obscure, indeed, +that although the light was excellent my jostling +cab made it impossible for me to decipher them. Telling +the driver to stop, I bent over again, and laboriously +read:</p> + +<p>"I am on Mr. Graham's yacht in great da——"</p> + +<p>At this place, as I looked back upon last night, the +old chap had indicated his wish to leave, and she, tearing +off a corner, had let the wine card slip to the floor. +It explained the broken word, the sudden interruption; +and this much was not a dream, neither was the +disturbing message in my hands—for what else but +"danger" could the "da" mean?</p> + +<p>All was ready to weigh anchor when I stepped aboard, +and when we were outside the harbor, drawing nicely +toward the north, Tommy came up grumbling.</p> + +<p>"This mystery's getting heavy," he said. "Put us +wise!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>So I pushed him into a chair, and called the professor +and Gates; then when the four of us were comfortably +settled, the cushions fitting our shoulders, our pipes +alight, our spirits glowing with that exhilaration which +a yacht can bring as she lays over and cuts the waves, +I told the story from beginning to end—sparing Sylvia +where I should.</p> + +<p>For some minutes they smoked with their eyes downcast. +Then Monsieur looked up in his mild way, asking:</p> + +<p>"May I see the paper?"</p> + +<p>I passed it to him and we drew together, studying +it.</p> + +<p>"This is the most singular part of the affair," he +said, leaning back, "because it first came to you in +fact, although the man's returning for it was told in +the dream—and later verified. The dots and line mean +nothing, perhaps, but that interrupted message!—ah, +truly it spells danger! What danger? She spoke of no +danger in the dream?"</p> + +<p>Now, it may seem strange or not, but I had begun to +lose track of the places where the dream came in and +where they left off. The actual was so woven with the +unreal that I had to stop and consider this question. +The paper episode, the vividness with which Sylvia +had appeared to me, the brass frame made in the imitation +of a porthole, and the camera's film, all contributed +to a confusion not unshared by my three friends.</p> + +<p>"It's a darned funny coincidence," said Tommy, in +an awed voice. "But, Jack, you don't think more seriously +of it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Would we be chasing these people if I didn't?" I +temporized with another question.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be troubled, glancing toward the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +thoughtful professor as if expecting him to speak, and +when this was not forthcoming he asked again:</p> + +<p>"Well, friend gezabo, what do you think?"</p> + +<p>The little scientist lowered his pipe, sighed and impressively +answered:</p> + +<p>"It is not given to all men to see this invisible agency +at work."</p> + +<p>The profoundly solemn way he said this made Tommy's +eyes grow round. Ghost and mystery tales imparted +during his childhood by black mammies and +other negro servants had endowed him with a considerable +amount of superstition that not infrequently +prevailed against his better judgment. So now, when +the erudite Monsieur treated my experience with reverence, +even introducing an element of mysticism, Tommy +wavered.</p> + +<p>"Whiz-bang! You don't really believe that spooky +stuff, do you?"</p> + +<p>"To my knowledge," Monsieur answered, "I have +seen one case. You have heard me speak of Azuria. +Well, many years ago a friend of mine, daughter of +our King Christopher, fell to worrying about her cousin, +a profligate who divided his time between the palace +and Paris. As a punishment for various escapades the +King had curtailed his allowance to a mere pittance, yet +he seemed in spite of this to have as much money +as before. It was this fact that worried my friend—the +fear of a scandal.</p> + +<p>"One night she dreamed that her child, a girl of +nearly three, was being kidnaped. She arose in her +sleep to follow, walking the length of the palace, and +awoke to find herself in the cousin's room—standing, +indeed, behind his chair as he bent beneath a shaded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +lamp earnestly working on a plate for spurious money. +Instantly she threatened to expose him to the King.</p> + +<p>"Well, to shorten a long story, that night he did +actually kidnap the child, leaving a note to my friend +in which he suggested a compromise. But there was +no compromise with villainy in her make-up. The old +King was much affected. Yet there were things in the +air at that time, delicate situations of state, which demanded +consideration. The kidnaping, if made public, +would have produced a most disquieting effect in +certain quarters. Our treaty with a powerful state had +just been signed, based on the little princess' betrothal—you +see? Therefore, her disappearance must be kept +a secret for a while, so the police of the world were not +notified. But that night ten men—a few of them loyal +subjects and the others paid agents—left the capital. +Thus a relentless search began, being carried to the +ends of the world. A noted rogue, that fellow was—yet, +strange to say, in earlier life a man of parts, +an esthetic, an artist and musician of great ability; but +<i>mon Dieu</i>, what a scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"Where did they find the little princess?" Tommy +asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"She was never found," he answered softly. "Word +once came that she had died; again that she lived—but +this I begin to doubt. So her mother reigns as regent, +and in sorrow. Old Christopher had two daughters, +the younger of whom——" but he stopped in confusion, +his face turning very red. Later I remembered this.</p> + +<p>We fell into a silence, a mutual sympathy for the +bereaved lady who had been so wronged. At last +Tommy asked:</p> + +<p>"Do you cross your heart that Jack's dream was +anything like the one she had?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dream?" Monsieur ran his fingers through his +shock of hair. "Who can say? Was she dreaming, or +did she see a vision? If a vision, why did it mislead +by urging her into the very step that brought disaster? +That scoundrel might never have considered kidnaping +the child had the mother remained unsuspicious of his +occupation! Yet visions are sent to warn against, not +to court dangers. Again, some hold that he happened +to be contemplating this step as a means of escape +should discovery come, and so it was his thought transmitted +to her."</p> + +<p>"For goodness sake talk sense," I cried. "What difference +does it make whether they were dreams or +nightmares, or how much the cousin was thinking! +What we want to know is where does my dream come +in!"</p> + +<p>He looked so hurt that I apologized by saying his +fairy talk had sent me off my head. Small wonder, +for when our guest attempted to explain a theory he +proceeded on the assumption that we were as well versed +in it as himself. Anyway, we smoothed him down and +now, looking at us solemnly, he said:</p> + +<p>"Latter-day English-speaking psychologists to the +contrary notwithstanding, we know in the East that +souls do travel abroad; that they will speak, one to +another, while our bodies sleep—while we are steeped +in that mysterious period of mimic death which leads +us so uncannily near their twilight zone! Some men +hold that our dreams are vagaries, as a puff of air or a +passing breeze; others that they are unfulfilled desires; +still others that they are the impress made by another +soul upon the subliminal part of us, that leaves to our +active senses but imperfectly translatable hieroglyphics. +Does that show you nothing?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," I temporized, "I can't say it shows me +much. How about you, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"Smell a little smoke, but don't see any bright light +yet. Elucidate, professor!"</p> + +<p>He sighed, giving us a look of pity, I thought.</p> + +<p>"If I call to a man, and the space is great, my +voice may fail before reaching him. Yet if it hangs its +vibrations on a puff of air, a passing breeze that blows in +his direction, he hears me! So does the soul employ the +passing breeze—by which I mean the capricious thing +called dreaming—to enter our consciousness that might +not otherwise be reached. The impossibility is to say +which is which—that is, which is the unfulfilled desire, +which is but the capricious passing breeze, and which +is the message from another! If in the dark an uneducated +fellow sits at a piano he might play several +lovely chords, yet while they sounded well there would +be no intelligence behind them. Such is the chance +dream! But a master-player could produce a rhapsody, +expressing to one who listened hope, love, desire, warning—everything. +Such is the harmonious blending of +soul and soul in sleep! And how can we tell which is +which?"</p> + +<p>He paused and gazed out at the water, and I saw in +his face the peculiarly wistful expression that so often +accompanies thoughts which are both elusive and far +away. The index finger of his right hand was slightly +raised, indicating a subconscious impulse to point upward. +Slowly turning back to us, he said in a tone +of solemnity that lingers with me even now, a year +later, as I write of it:</p> + +<p>"In the Psalms we find these merciful words: 'He +giveth His beloved sleep.' Yet they are but an imperfect +translation of the original, which reads: 'He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +giveth <i>to</i> His beloved <i>in</i> sleep.' Do you not see here a +greater meaning? Do your minds not at once grasp the +corollary?"</p> + +<p>"Then you mean," Tommy asked, "that every dream +is intended to express something?"</p> + +<p>"I will not go quite that far, although there are men +highly practiced in the science of psycho-analytical research +who stoutly affirm it. Ah, the great difficulty is +in drawing the line—in determining which dreams are +but passing breezes and which are sent to us upon the +wings of angels!"</p> + +<p>"You've studied those things," I ventured. "Which +was mine?"</p> + +<p>"Study!" he cried, with a fine degree of scorn. "Yes, +we study! We gather around the brink of a black well +and steep ourselves in thought; we wrinkle our brows +and tear our beards. Cries one: 'I know what is down +there!' Another turns to him: 'You lie!' A third challenges: +'Prove yourselves!' And thus do professors, +students, psychologists, churchmen, laymen, infidels, and +fools, gather about the pit! This much for study," he +snapped his finger. "Unless a man have faith, he is +in darkness to the end of his days!"</p> + +<p>"All the same, I believe someone tried to warn the +princess," Tommy insisted. "And it couldn't have +been anything less than a master-player that got off +that rhapsody to Jack last night!" There was a note +of teasing in this that the others did not detect.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Thomas, you're wrong, sir." Gates, who +had been listening attentively, now uncrossed his legs +and spoke. "There isn't a single curious thing in Mr. +Jack's dream. Anyone can see how it came about—with +my apologies to you, sir," he bowed to Monsieur.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>We laughed, because Gates had not impressed us as +being much of a psychologist, and Tommy said:</p> + +<p>"If you explain how he knew what Graham's name +was, I'll listen."</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, he saw it on the paper the night before—for +it was there, as sure as you live, and he says he +looked at the paper. The only thing is, he didn't know +he saw it—being a little gone in his cups, as you might +say. But he did see it, and it soaked into his head, +waiting till arfter he got to sleep before stirring +around."</p> + +<p>"That's my first clear idea," Tommy's face brightened; +and Gates, thus encouraged, added:</p> + +<p>"The reason he dreamed the old man went ashore for +the paper was because he saw the lady being watched +when she came back to her table—and I'll venture he +thought right then that the old one was about to come +back, too, and see what she was doing. Didn't you, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I did," I murmured.</p> + +<p>"So that stuck in his mind and came out the wrong +way, just like dreams sometimes will. As for the photograph +and brass frame—why, Mr. Thomas, you and the +professor took on so about that picture when he'd developed +it that Mr. Jack could have heard you in his +sleep, and got that part of his dream from what you +said!"</p> + +<p>"It does fit, doesn't it," Tommy cried. "And, Jack, +the poetry Sylvia breathed at you—wasn't it about the +same thing our little Spanish girl sang?"</p> + +<p>"It had the same general idea," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"There you are, sir," Gates announced, with a satisfied +air. "So there isn't a thing unusual about your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +dream, arfter all. It's as reasonable as the general +run."</p> + +<p>Monsieur did not relish having his big occult smoke +blown away in this fashion; he looked at us with rather +a sickish expression, as a boy might have if someone +stuck a pin in his toy balloon. But it was such a relief +to get back to practicalities that we let him sulk.</p> + +<p>"Jack," Tommy asked, "do you think her real name +is Sylvia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm sure of that, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>"How're you sure of it?"</p> + +<p>"It fits her so absolutely," I answered with decision.</p> + +<p>"But Revenge would fit her, too, wouldn't it? That's +sweet," he grinned.</p> + +<p>"Or Constancy," the professor smiled, for once becoming +inspired as he threw off his grouch.</p> + +<p>"Try Ignorance!" This again from Tommy, who +made an attempt to look blissful and only succeeded in +making himself ridiculous, I thought.</p> + +<p>Old Gates now stretched, cocked an eye up at the +weather and, in a drawl, asked:</p> + +<p>"Would it be supposing a great deal, sir, to suggest +that the lady might be named Much-Learning?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon we laughed uproariously, and Tommy +slapped him on the knee, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Papa Gates, you've hit it! Truly, she hath made +us mad!"</p> + +<p>"All the same," I cried, arising and laughing down at +them, "there's one thing you can't explain away! The +big adventure's come at last!—the wildest chase——"</p> + +<p>"Love chase," Tommy interposed.</p> + +<p>"Chase," I repeated, "that man ever started! Are +you fellows game enough to see it through—to the very +end?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Are</i> we?" Tommy yelled, springing to his feet. +"To the very end! What say, Gates?—Professor?"</p> + +<p>"To the very end, sir," the old skipper's face beamed +happily.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, my boys," Monsieur declared. "To the +very end,—<i>certainement!</i>"</p> + +<p>And Gates must have confided this to the crew, for +later, as I passed the mate, that worthy gave his forelock +a pull and whispered:</p> + +<p>"To the very end, sir!"</p> + +<p>It pleased me immensely.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A VOICE FROM THE WATER</h2> + + +<p>A perfect tropical night crept down on us, with the +sky a deep and velvety blue, and the stars low enough +to touch. Brilliant phosphorescence dashed from our +bow and a silvery streak trailed in our wake emphasizing +the enchantment as the <i>Whim</i> rose, leaned, and +dipped over the bosom of the breathing Gulf. So, also, +were my hopes; now up, now down, on the breast of +another fickle monster. Love and the sea! Have they +not always been counterparts? Do they not span the +known and unknown in each man's world, carrying some +in safety—others destroying?</p> + +<p>It must have been nine o'clock when the forward +watch called and, springing to the rail, peering through +the darkness, we saw down upon the horizon the fixed +white eye and three red sectors of the Key West light.</p> + +<p>"A good run, Gates."</p> + +<p>"Nothing of our size can beat it, sir."</p> + +<p>"You think the <i>Orchid</i> will be in harbor?"</p> + +<p>"I carn't say, sir. She had six hours' start of us, +and could have left."</p> + +<p>"How long do we lay off this burg?" Tommy asked, +sauntering up.</p> + +<p>"That depends. If the mysterious yacht's here we'll +stay till something happens."</p> + +<p>"And if she isn't," he nudged the professor, "we'll +comb out the universe. You get that, don't you? A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +nice fat job, I'll say it is! How'll we know which way +to start? Gates, couldn't you get a peep at her papers +in the port?" But the skipper solemnly shook his +head, saying:</p> + +<p>"It carn't be done, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jack, when customs are finished we'll take the +launch and comb out the harbor, anyhow! She'll be +anchored nearby, like as not."</p> + +<p>Not caring to tie up at the dock we chose a berth far +enough out to escape the electric glare ashore, and had +hardly swung-to when Gates was off in his gig to clear +our papers. The port officials were astir and accommodatingly +looked us over without loss of time, for the +skipper had mentioned our wish to leave whenever the +spirit moved us. Those, indeed, had been his identical +words, and I wondered if they were prophetic—whenever +the spirit moved us!</p> + +<p>They were a nice pair of fellows, those American officers, +and before going into business—a mere formality +in our case—we gathered in the cockpit for a long straw +and a bowl of ice. The occasion was more agreeable +for possessing that sense of aloofness one feels at being +on the edge, yet safely beyond the reach, of a little +city's night diversions and excitements.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've nothing dutiable," one said, knowing +we had left Havana unexpectedly soon.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," Tommy volunteered.</p> + +<p>"But, yes," Monsieur exclaimed. "I shall declare!"</p> + +<p>"About the only thing he brought away was a wad +of money from a roulette game," I laughed.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I surprise you," he cried, in high good humor, +ducking below; and was soon heard struggling up the +stairs, crying: "Give me help!"</p> + +<p>Into our hands then he began thrusting packages of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +cigars; packages containing a dozen boxes each, until +the cockpit looked like moving day in a tobacco shop. +Behind the last of these, he came.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>là là</i>," Tommy's jaw dropped. "Where did +you tie up with this stuff? We've been together all the +time!"</p> + +<p>"Not all the time," the professor chuckled. "Before +you were awake this morning I was in town for camera +supplies, and brought back, also, much of that most +genial and ameliorating of influences exerted upon us +in life—cigars! How much do I pay?"</p> + +<p>"How many have you?"</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand."</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand cigars!" We stared at him.</p> + +<p>"That's a lot of ameliorating influence," one of the +officers laughed. "But, in spite of it, I'll have to charge +you on nine thousand, nine hundred—unless a hundred +belong to each of your friends. Everyone's entitled to +bring in a hundred free."</p> + +<p>"A hundred are mine," Tommy spoke up at once. "I +haven't won cigars so fast, ever! Jack, you for a hundred. +Gates, you, too. Colonel," he turned to the officer—out +of the Army he scattered the titles of Colonel, +Judge, Governor and Parson with a free hand—"suppose +you all take a hundred each. It'll be a whole lot +cheaper for Sir Walter, here!"</p> + +<p>The professor was giggling.</p> + +<p>"They have cost me nothing," he cried, "for last +night I have won almost a thousand dollars at that +wretched place—see, here is plenty with which to pay!"</p> + +<p>And a fortunate thing it was that he had, being called +on for something in the neighborhood of three hundred +dollars.</p> + +<p>The officer—Hardwick, by name—and his associate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +were good fellows, as I have said. They had greeted +us as congenial spirits and, probably on this account, +I noticed some embarrassment on his part when he +leaned into the light and slowly looked over the money +Monsieur had given him. The rest of us were conversing +in a more or less distrait fashion till this unpleasant +duty should be finished, when he took an electric torch +from his pocket and flashed it on one of the bills; then +on another, and so through the lot. Hesitatingly he +touched Monsieur's arm, asking:</p> + +<p>"Is this the money you won last night?"</p> + +<p>"That? It is just as they paid me."</p> + +<p>A moment of silence, then:</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to tell you, but these two fifty-dollar bills +are counterfeits."</p> + +<p>There ensued an absolute hush, and before my eyes +arose the vision of Sylvia's father paying his supper +check with a crisp fifty.</p> + +<p>"Counterfeit," the professor mused, putting out a +hand for them and moving nearer the light. "Strange! +Just today I was speaking of a counterfeiter!" And +Tommy, in an awed voice, asked:</p> + +<p>"You don't think it's more dreams?"</p> + +<p>The officials, I rather suspected, were beginning to +look at us askance. Our various attitudes at this discovery +were scarcely in accordance with the usually accepted +actions of innocent people; on the contrary, +with but a grain of imagination, we might be branded +as a trio of rascals trying to stall out of a tight place. +My apprehension was more confirmed when Hardwick, +a shade less cordial, said:</p> + +<p>"As a United States official, I should like to hear +your views about these."</p> + +<p>Now Tommy looked across at me and I saw that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +was awake. Monsieur, on the other hand, remained blissfully +indifferent that anything might be out of the +ordinary—except, of course, being loaded with a hundred +dollars of bad money, which does not happen +every day.</p> + +<p>"My counterfeiter?" he smiled innocently. "Yes, +he could have done these. His plates are all but perfect. +And these bills—you will admit they almost +fooled you!" Whereupon he laughed.</p> + +<p>Tommy fidgeted, saying:</p> + +<p>"Have a care, gezabo, or you'll be sending us to the +rock pile!"</p> + +<p>"My friend is cut-upping," Monsieur beamed on the +official, but met with no more hearty response than the +dry acquiescence:</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt of it. But suppose you tell me more +of your other friend—the counterfeiter!"</p> + +<p>"Friend? <i>My</i> friend?" Monsieur's face now became +the picture of horror. "I was telling these boys of +one who disappeared years ago, and afterwards the police +showed me some plates found in his rooms! <i>My</i> +friend!"</p> + +<p>Hardwick began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Please accept my apologies, but, really, for the +moment——"</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it," Tommy interrupted him, handing +across a newly opened box of cigars. "I understand +you—the professor couldn't!"</p> + +<p>Returning to the important subject, Hardwick said:</p> + +<p>"Whoever put these out is probably in Cuba. You +got them at the café——?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so," Monsieur exclaimed, warming up with +the notion of doing detective work. "I was playing +roulette—but, pardon me, you have heard."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you remember any one around the table who +showed new-looking bills?"</p> + +<p>"No. We were the only ones playing, and but a few +were looking on."</p> + +<p>"The restaurant was crowded," Tommy said, "and +connects with the gambling rooms. Mightn't they send +money back and forth if needed?"</p> + +<p>"Quite probable."</p> + +<p>In the silence that followed I started twice to tell him +that Sylvia's father had used a new bill of that denomination, +yet the words would not come. It seemed +a sneaky thing to do, after she had turned to me for +help. Yet, if she were in danger, what quicker way to +safety than arrest the old vulture who had her in his +power? So I said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hardwick, last night in that restaurant I saw a +man——" but this time something stopped my words. +It was a voice, a girl's voice, beautiful with an impassioned +ring of protest, that cried from some place near +us on the water:</p> + +<p>"It isn't fair!"</p> + +<p>It isn't fair! Oh, the just and pleading accusation +of that cry! I sprang up, loudly calling her name:</p> + +<p>"Sylvia!"</p> + +<p>There was not a breath of sound. Those with whom +I had been conversing were as mute as graven images, +but in the black pall just beyond our taffrail drifted the +magnetic presence toward which every nerve and fiber +of my body pointed;—pointed, aye, tugged and wrestled +with my poor flesh to be free! Yet, silence; all silence. +No sound, no vision, no anything to guide me, other +than my flashing brain and thumping heart which spoke +of her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw one of our sailors staring at the water with +strange owlish eyes, and yelled at him:</p> + +<p>"Into the gig, man!"</p> + +<p>But this was frustrated before he moved, for some +black shadow, showing vaguely, glided out from beneath +our rail and disappeared. I could not be sure that I +saw it, but the sailor did because he crossed himself.</p> + +<p>"It ain't no use—now, sir," he managed to say.</p> + +<p>My own eyes were trying to follow the eerie, silent +thing which had passed so spookily into the night, leaving +the merest suggestion of phosphorescence after it. +Then an arm slipped affectionately about my shoulders, +and I felt that Tommy was also standing by, looking +along the trail of deadened sound. His face showed +excitement, but he whispered steadily enough:</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down."</p> + +<p>Indeed, now that the thing had disappeared, I felt +like an ass; and, resuming my seat, attempted to make +the best of it.</p> + +<p>"Really," I laughed, "you fellows mustn't judge a +man too critically. There was something in the voice +of that young lady which took me off my guard, and +recalled—well, it recalled what you've all probably had +recalled by one means or another, at some time or +other, during your—er—lives." And I gave a weakish +smile, waving my hand toward any old thing in sight +by way of saying: "You know, old chaps, how just that +one girl plays the devil with a fellow, sometimes!"</p> + +<p>But the government officials received this in a different +spirit than that which I had hoped to arouse. They +looked at me with a gravity most disquieting, and Hardwick, +suspicion written in every line of his face, asked:</p> + +<p>"Is the young lady a member of your party?"</p> + +<p>"Heavens, no," I answered quickly. "Oh, no," I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +vigorously repeated. "We don't know her, at all—none +of us!"</p> + +<p>An ominous silence followed this emphatic denial, and +I could actually <i>feel</i> him making up his mind about us. +It was an awful moment. At last Tommy flecked the +ash from his cigar and, with great deliberation, asked:</p> + +<p>"Colonel, do you believe in ghosts?"</p> + +<p>"If you're serious," Hardwick snapped, "I certainly +do not!"</p> + +<p>"I'm serious, all right," Tommy purred, and I knew, +from the unusually soft quality of his voice, that, indeed, +he was—"for, if you don't believe in ghosts, you +believe we're a bunch of damn crooks—oh, yes you do!—and +I may say that if you don't, you're a damn fool. +<i>Now</i> you see how serious I am, and how serious this +affair is! This man was telling the exact truth when +he said that none of us have ever heard that voice. +If we actually did hear it just now, the coincidence +that brought a small boat past us at this time of night, +and prompted some woman in it to speak when and +what she did, is more inexplicable to me than you think +it is to you—because you've made up your mind to +understand it. I can, however, understand how any +sweet voice on a night like this might make my friend +skid off his usually sane and normal track, because——" +he hesitated, adding slowly: "Hardwick, I can't go into +my friend's private affairs, but I wish to tell you that +he's had a hell of a jolt, and on account of a memory—a +memory, Hardwick—we're at Key West tonight. I +trust, sir, that you won't misjudge, but rather fit these +fragments and supply the needed others; for I know +that your appreciation of—er—things is too delicate +to allow me to proceed."</p> + +<p>Be it noted that Tommy did tell but the simple truth;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +and, what is more, he told it with such sincerity that, in +a large measure, our embarrassment became shifted over +to our guests. Personally, I felt like a howling ass to +be staked out and exhibited as somebody's jilted Romeo, +but this was a welcome compromise; thrice welcome, +since Hardwick's next words showed that he had forgotten, +or dismissed, the prelude to my burst of confidence +about "a man in the restaurant," for arising he +said:</p> + +<p>"Well, we've kept you longer than we should. If +this gentleman will give my government good money +for its revenue we'll bid you <i>bon voyage</i>. I suppose +there's no objection to my keeping those?" He pointed +to the spurious bills.</p> + +<p>"I have paid dearly for them," the professor remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, but you won't lose any more than you've +already lost—nor gain more, as you won't think of using +them!"</p> + +<p>"Why should I not use them? I will use them—<i>certainement!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Be explicit, or forever hold your peace," Tommy +laughed. "Can't you see the man reaching for his +handcuffs?"</p> + +<p>But Monsieur, thoroughly aroused, waved the crisp +bills with a great show of indignation, crying:</p> + +<p>"If there is a way to run this cheat to earth I, alone, +will know it! Then you will want me to be telling you! +For my own pleasure I have made a study of counterfeiters +and their methods. Perhaps it may surprise you +to learn that the police of Europe come to Bucharest +and consult with me, eh? Thus, if I may also help +you, I must retain my bills!"</p> + +<p>We laughed, although I felt tremendously proud of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +the professor, having had no idea he was such a wonder; +and Hardwick said, bowing:</p> + +<p>"Then help yourself so I, also, may be helped. But +let me take one for my government and, when you finish +with the other, mail it to me with your report. +I shall appreciate your assistance, really."</p> + +<p>Monsieur was delighted.</p> + +<p>They left us then, and again we settled about the +cockpit; each waiting for one of the others to begin. +My own thoughts were like a whirlwind, and my ears +strained with listening toward the black Gulf—listening +for a voice, or the unnamable noise of the gods knew +what, that might float to me across the water. I think +Tommy half expected me to suggest that we take one of +the small boats, and went to his room to put on darker +clothes. In a few minutes Monsieur yawned and followed +him—though I rather suspected that his yawn +was caused more by nervousness than the want of sleep. +A moment later Gates, standing near the wheel, softly +called my name, so I arose and went to him.</p> + +<p>It must be remembered that Gates was absolutely dependable. +There were no frills about the old skipper, +he shared not one superstitious sentiment in common +with Tommy, and it is extremely doubtful if he knew the +sensation of fear; therefore, when I saw his face, I was +astonished, and in alarm asked:</p> + +<p>"Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, but I'm sore upset. Please come a bit more +aft, sir."</p> + +<p>Taking a few steps till we were abaft the traveler, +he turned and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jack, someone's been trying to blow us up!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A BOMB AND A DISCOVERY</h2> + + +<p>It seemed that either Gates or I must be out of our +senses.</p> + +<p>"Blow us up!" I gasped, staring at him.</p> + +<p>"As sure as you're born, sir! 'Twas about the time +you called over the rail. A little before that, as you +gentlemen were talking, I heard a small boat. She +came near, and she came up sneaking. First I thought +it might be a sponge fisher with more curiosity than +manners, but as she didn't start on again I begun to +cock my ear. Then something gave a rub against our +rudder post. I didn't like it. I was sitting back there, +anyhow, so just got to my hands and knees, and peeped +over."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you challenge?"</p> + +<p>"Because there's been strange doings these twenty-four +hours parst, and I knew your affairs might be +taking a serious turn. I thought you'd be wanting +to know their play, 'stead of scaring 'em off. So I +peeped and listened. With my eyes getting fair used to +the dark I made out a dinghy with four men, and think +they'd bent a line about our rudder post, for the for'ard +man seemed to be working at us silent and farst. The +middle one had the oars, ready to pull away. In the +stern sheets sat the one I guessed was boss and, kind +of squatting down in front of him, was a lad. To +tell the truth, sir, I felt squirmy, for those night-hawks +were up to something mysterious."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, Gates—did you recognize them?"</p> + +<p>"Not me, sir. As I was saying, the fellow aft now +parssed up a bundle to the for'ard chap, who took it +gingerly and began farstening it on to us somewhere—I +couldn't see. The young lad leaned over and looked +at it, then he up and sings out: 'It ain't fair!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I caught him by the shoulders. "Go on, +Gates!"</p> + +<p>"Mind out this thing under my coat," he warned. +"Well, sir, the one that was boss made a grab for +him—Lor', how he did jerk him!—and the others froze +like stone. They stayed that way while you were calling, +then the dinghy glided off—the one aft still holding +his hand over the lad's mouth and kind of choking him +with the other."</p> + +<p>My blood was fairly steaming, and I cried out what +was uppermost in my mind:</p> + +<p>"That wasn't a lad, Gates! It was a girl!"</p> + +<p>His jaw dropped and he stared at me, but slowly shook +his head.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, it warn't a girl, or the fellow wouldn't +have handled her so rough. Besides, sir, he wore—the +lad, I mean—a jacket and cap like you or me."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't mean anything. I tell you it was a girl—I'm +sure of it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, you're wrong; for when they got out five +fathom or so they stopped—to listen, maybe. You were +back in the cockpit by then, and I guess the fellow must +have let up on the young-un; for, all at once, he—the +lad, I mean—raked a match along the gunnel, for to take +a smoke, d'you see! My word, but the way he was +grabbed this time would have shocked you. I couldn't +see it, but you could hear the youngster gurgling. That +shows it warn't a girl, sir!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What shows it? Because you think she wanted to +smoke? Girls do, Gates!"</p> + +<p>"They do that, sir, and I'm not gainsaying it; but +they do it sociable, arfter dinner, setting 'round the +cockpit, as you might say. It's seldom any of 'em has +such a mortal craving for tobacco as to have to take +a suck at a little cigarette every time a man chokes her +by the throat. My word, no! It's the male sex that +wants the weed under those conditions—not a girl, +sir!"</p> + +<p>But I was seeing an entirely different version of the +affair, so far as the smoking went; and Gates would have +seen it, too, if he hadn't been so excited. She had not +wanted to smoke, at all, but to signal us! I knew it! I +was never more sure of anything in all creation!</p> + +<p>"And besides, sir," Gates now added, "no one would +push his fingers into a girl's throat like——"</p> + +<p>"Stop," I cried, for I could not listen to more of +this. If ever I wanted to kill it was then. I wanted to +get my own fingers on that scoundrel's throat as he +had dared touch hers; and in my heart I swore by all +the gods, by all the stars and moons and other things in +the heavens and under the sea, that I would strangle out +his miserable life by inches, or leave my bones to bleach +on the shore of her unknown island. Wherever it was, +I would find it; wherever she was, I would find her!—and +God help him when he came my way! It was a +classy oath, and I felt a lot better for it.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir," Gates's voice began to tremble with passion +as he held up a black thing that had been tucked +under his coat, "this invention I took off our rudder +post when I rowed 'round to see what they'd been up +to. It's a dirty bomb, fixed to start us off for Davy +Jones's Locker sometime tonight, sir!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're sure it can't start us off now?" I asked, +taking it from his hands.</p> + +<p>"Not lest you get too familiar, sir. I've disconnected +the clock part of it."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea what those men looked like?"</p> + +<p>He solemnly shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You can't guess who they were, or why they wanted +to blow us up?" I persisted. "Shall we notify the port, +or what?"</p> + +<p>He stood a while silent before answering.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jack, God knows who they are. It was too dark +for me to get any satisfying squint at 'em; but I never +saw 'em before—that I know. Three things are sure: +they're either lunatics, or they've taken us for some +mortal enemy, or——"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Or I'm wrong in those two guesses, sir."</p> + +<p>"But you think they're from the <i>Orchid</i>, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"On another guess, I'd swear it, sir."</p> + +<p>"And you're positive you never saw the yacht till +yesterday—in any port?"</p> + +<p>"Never, sir. I even made inquiry about her in Havana +before we cleared to-day—that is, without exciting +comment. A one-eyed stevedore said she drops in there +maybe once or twice a year, but he didn't know from +where. <i>I've</i> never seen her, and I've sailed close to +thirty year most everywhere in these waters during +winter seasons!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm stumped," I admitted. "Let's take this +to the professor and see what he makes of it." So +we went down together.</p> + +<p>Monsieur, in his stateroom, sat bent over his counterfeit +bill when I quietly shoved the bomb in front of +him. He sprang up with a broadside of expletives that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +in the sunlight would have cast a wondrous rainbow. +It was a way with the little professor, and we had +learned to keep respectfully distant during such periods +of effervescing energy.</p> + +<p>"Tied to our rudder post," I told him.</p> + +<p>He seemed to grasp the entire situation at once. I +have never known such a genius for corraling facts! In +an instant his mind apparently galloped completely +around the boundary of our discovery, and then circled +in.</p> + +<p>"You have made it harmless," was his first oral observation.</p> + +<p>"Gates did, yes; he disconnected the clock-work."</p> + +<p>"It is quickly made, and crude," he mused, turning it +over in his hands, "but the work of one who is not a +novice. Give me the other part!—um! Very pretty, +very pretty, indeed!" Then he looked up, calling: "My +boy Tommy, come! We are to see what we shall see!"</p> + +<p>"See what?" Tommy sauntered in; but as we explained +the situation he looked positively hopeful. For +the chief quality in Tommy that made him so likable +was his abiding love of danger. He would rather flirt +with death than a ravishing coquette—though I will +not deny his preference to play the pair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, boy!" he now chuckled, giving my arm a +squeeze.</p> + +<p>As we gathered about the table, Monsieur took a +knife and began to press its blade into the covering of +the bomb, saying:</p> + +<p>"I have known the builder of one of these to leave +his tracks inside, trusting the explosion to obliterate +them. But sometimes the machine does not go off."</p> + +<p>"Let's hope this'll be one of those times," Tommy +murmured, "or we'll pretty well leave our tracks all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +over the Gulf. Don't use any bad judgment, Professor. +Centuries are looking down at you!"</p> + +<p>"I shall try not," he smiled, pushing the blade deeper +and giving a gentle twist.</p> + +<p>"I should say he ought to be doing that ashore, sir," +Gates whispered. "Lor' knows this is no place——"</p> + +<p>But Monsieur was speaking again.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman who left it with us may have used +bad judgment by not exploding it himself. So much +the worse for him. Steady!" he grunted, peeling off +another slice of the wrapper. "Yet, if criminals did +not sometimes use bad judgment, a sorry plight would +be ours, eh? Moreover, it is natural that they use +bad judgment, for, being criminals, their judgment is +bad—primarily bad, or they would not be criminals."</p> + +<p>"Please work without your tongue or talk without +your hands," I said, with a touch of irritation. "That +thing's nervous for undivided attention!"</p> + +<p>The professor may not have heard, and in a monotone +continued:</p> + +<p>"The man who made it knew his business; therefore +he is a student of this type of explosives; therefore a +police agent, a—what you call—crank like myself, or a +destroying criminal—that is, an anarchist. Therefore +he is the last named, since neither of the others would +want to blow up a gentleman's yacht. It seems clear to +you?" he asked, without raising his eyes; but none of +us cared to divert his attention by answering.</p> + +<p>By now Monsieur had peeled off several pieces of +the wrapper, and was sprawled over the table with a +powerful magnifying lens. For some time he minutely +studied them, finally squinting closely at a particular +one and beginning to show increased excitement. Arising +and pushing by us, he went to his many boxes and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +returned with a small glass-stoppered bottle. It must +have contained an acid; at any rate, he touched a drop +of it to a piece of the inner wrapping, then bent over to +watch results. Finally, with very bright eyes, he looked +up announcing in a voice of triumph:</p> + +<p>"This paper is the kind they use for printing money +on!"</p> + +<p>We stared at him, but he volunteered nothing further, +having again bent over his search. For several minutes +we watched in silence. Then he sat up with a snap, +as a steel spring might be released.</p> + +<p>"The man who made this bomb made my counterfeit +bank note," he cried.</p> + +<p>Tommy and I jumped.</p> + +<p>"Just so," he continued eagerly. "The bomb is a +hurried affair, impromptu, constructed of materials happening +to be at hand when needed. That necessity, we +assume, arose within the last few hours, since we have +been in these waters but shortly. Here is a piece of the +wrapper. You make nothing of it, yet to my experienced +knowledge I see the identical paper on which my +money is printed. The counterfeiter, possessing a good +resisting paper and suddenly desiring to make a bomb, +employs it. So much for so much! Now we have him a +bomb-maker and a counterfeiter;—then we shall eliminate +the anarchist!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Because a counterfeiter of such skill—and this engraving +is the work of a master—implies long and intense +application; therefore a secluded life rather than +one of following the red flag. Moreover, an anarchist +would be tempted into this risk, such as tried upon us, +only to destroy someone of great importance—which I +may conclude no one of us is. And irrespective of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +reasons counterfeiters do not sympathize with anarchy. +The psychology of each must be diametric, for if there +is no government to make money there is no money to +counterfeit. So the anarchist in our case lacks motive, +but the other finds it if he suspects us of knowing his +secret. So much for so much. Do we know any counterfeiter's +secret? No. Then a final theory: the placer +of this bomb has mistaken us for an enemy—he thinks +we are whom we are not!"</p> + +<p>"That's what I said," Gates interposed.</p> + +<p>"But he does suspect us of knowing it," Tommy exclaimed, +"or why did he tell the waiter Jack was a +detective?"</p> + +<p>The professor, obviously disappointed, turned again +to the bomb that was fast reaching a state of <i>déshabille</i>—if +bombs can be said to reach that state.</p> + +<p>"You assume this to be the work of people on that +yacht," he said, with a touch of annoyance. "Can you +sustain that theory?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, sir," Gates declared.</p> + +<p>"A mere presumption, <i>mon Capitaine!</i>"</p> + +<p>"But the voice," I challenged. "Don't you suppose +I recognized it?"</p> + +<p>"Tut-tut, my boy Jack! You have never actually +heard the lady's voice!" And as this was true I had +nothing further to offer; but he brightened up, adding: +"We shall now go to the stomach of the bomb, if only +to enjoy ourselves."</p> + +<p>"You've a curious idea of fun," I grunted.</p> + +<p>"Just go easy," Tommy said. "She may be ticklish."</p> + +<p>"Why not sink the wicked thing at once, sir," Gates +urged. "We've seen enough now to keep us awake +nights, and I haven't any craving to look at its stomach, +Lor' knows I haven't!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the professor would not listen. Already he had +recommenced the exploration, gingerly removing some +wires wrapped about the explosive center, while we +almost held our breaths lest he touch the wrong thing. +Once he smiled, and murmured: "<i>Le capitaine</i> is right—it +was made on the <i>Orchid</i>!" Yet he did not stop +work for this, and soon brought to view two half sticks +of dynamite, one of them ingeniously capped. Leaning +above this now, with his elbows on the table and his +head in his hands, he sank into a profound study, then +startled us by giving a snort and springing up, jostling +the table so violently that the dynamite slid gracefully +toward the edge. Most happily Tommy grabbed it in +time.</p> + +<p>"Lor', sir, 'twas a close shave," Gates whispered, +wiping his forehead.</p> + +<p>But Monsieur remained blissfully unconscious of the +mess so narrowly averted. He was staring, breathing +heavily, blinking and thinking. As though walking in +his sleep he again went to his mysterious bags, took out +something and began to study it through the lens. +Then with a yell he rushed at me, hugged me, kissed me +on the cheek, held me off, and hugged me again, crying +over and over:</p> + +<p>"I am right—I am right—I am right!"</p> + +<p>He now caromed from me and in the same manner +embraced Tommy, and after this he tackled Gates. But +Gates did not understand the continental fashion of +masculine salutations, and sternly disengaged himself, +saying:</p> + +<p>"You carn't be right, sir! I don't know what's the +matter, but it's easy to see you carn't just be right!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p><p>"<i>Sacré bleu!</i>" Monsieur stepped back, actually weeping +with happiness. "What stupid idiots we are! Can't +you see?"</p> + +<p>"I can see one," Tommy grinned at him sweetly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but look!" He thrust before us the thing he +had taken from the bag. It was that precious kodak +film of Sylvia. "Look!" he cried. "You say she is +near to twenty—he, to seventy-five! But, more than all, +I see with my lens that here is the breathing likeness +of the mother! Where are your eyes, my boys? <i>Ciel</i>, +must I tell you? She is the kidnaped princess of +Azuria!"</p> + +<p>You who read may have surmised this; so might we, +had we been reading instead of making history. The +human mind that leans above a printed page possesses +a more concentrated grasp of facts than the human +atoms who run over the earth collecting them. So I +caught my breath and simply stared, too dazed to speak. +It seemed as though something had given me a surprising +whack that sent a thousand sparks before my eyes. +But then slowly the whole structure began to unfold. +Each step of evidence we had picked up since the memorable +night but twenty-four hours ago, now took its +place as the panorama—not flawless, but with inviting +possibilities,—and passed across my brain.</p> + +<p>It was very late when we pushed back from the table. +In its center were the counterfeit bill, the magnifying +glass, parts of the thoroughly dissected bomb, several +pages of writing pad with the professor's deductions; +and by these were some of Gates' charts, the paper I +had procured from the waiter, and another page containing +those mystic sentences Sylvia had spoken for +finding her island—because I thought it fair to her that +this should be laid before my friends, especially as she +had only said them in a dream.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Strangely enough the professor was willing to admit +them to his scheme of carrying on our pursuit—a chase +which he now seemed determined to direct—when even +Tommy, the superstitious Tommy, declared they would +throw us off the track a thousand miles. I could think +of no plan, for altogether it did seem like combing out +the universe for two human atoms.</p> + +<p>"We have one sure way, of course," the professor +leaned wearily back. "Keep the <i>Orchid</i> in sight. If +we do this till she reaches her lair, all is well."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't doubt she sailed, sir, right arfter placing +the bomb," Gates ventured.</p> + +<p>"Then we can't keep her in sight," said Tommy dolefully.</p> + +<p>"Do not thwart me," the little fellow cried, with a +sudden flare of anger that made us smile in spite of the +serious work at hand.</p> + +<p>"We'd better go ashore first," I suggested, "and get +authority to capture her. The government can deputize +us by sending along an officer."</p> + +<p>"Authority!" Monsieur puffed out his cheeks and +snapped his finger. "That for your government's authority! +I have the authority with me!"</p> + +<p>"You!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"<i>Certainement!</i> I was one of those true friends who +left the palace years ago, with the old King's authority +in my pocket! It is in that bag now! It is absolute—absolute!—protecting +me against anything I may do in +effecting her rescue and return. It is by far more +powerful than anything your government could give us! +A King's order makes the police of the world my underlings! +Besides that, she is my special charge, and no +power this side of Azuria can abrogate my authority +over her!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>A cold hand wrapped its fingers about my heart. The +hopelessness of our search would have been depressing +enough had it not contained the spice of chase, but to +feel that it might be fruitful only to have her snatched +off into a world as unknown, as impossible to me as this +far off kingdom, was crazing. To me it would be like +seeing her transported from one star to another, while +I remained on earth to gaze my eyes out and eat my +heart out with endless longing.</p> + +<p>"Her mother is regent, you say?" Tommy asked, intuitively +sympathizing with my state of mind.</p> + +<p>"Yes. In Roumania a woman may not ascend the +throne alone, but in Azuria, where the Ruman blood +has never mixed, she may act as regent if her heir is a +girl too young to marry. But now," he clapped his +hands joyfully, "we can complete the alliance with a +neighboring prince—and, ah, what joy there will be!"</p> + +<p>"You've got to catch her first," Tommy said, not +without a trace of spite. "Even if we get near enough +to see him, at all, he can see us, too; then lead us off +the track till night and make a run for base."</p> + +<p>"So he will, my boy Tommy. And if his lair is to +the west, he will doubtless lead us to the east. But we +must sail at dawn—then we shall see what we shall +see!"</p> + +<p>"Good night," I said, abruptly kicking back my chair.</p> + +<p>Thus our meeting broke up; Gates going first to sink +the dynamite and then leave orders for all canvas to be +stretched at peep o' day. Tommy came on deck with +me, and we stood a while looking into the black water. +Off in the town, in a side street near the wharf where +sailors' amusement halls are clustered, some tipsy fellow +was bawling a love song at the top of his voice. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +seemed to be the only thing awake in Key West at this +hour. When the song, or his voice, gave out the silence +settled heavier than before. A ship's bell, far over the +water, began to strike, and we counted five mellow +strokes: one-one, one-one, one!</p> + +<p>"Half-past two," Tommy whispered, "I wonder +what Nell's doing!"</p> + +<p>"Dreaming of you, no doubt," I tried to laugh. +"Maybe you and she are wrecked on a desert island at +this blissful moment."</p> + +<p>"I wish we were," he murmured, without looking +around. "And you and Sylvia, too!"</p> + +<p>"Cut it," I growled. "She's a princess, Tommy, and +that puts the kibosh on my dreams."</p> + +<p>"Nell's a princess, too," he said gently, "and I still +hang on. Tilt up your chin, Jack, and things'll squeeze +through for us! We'll ship the old counterfeiter to +prison, or kill him, and then——"</p> + +<p>"And then," I said bitterly, turning to go below, +"Princess Sylvia goes to the arms of some popinjay +prince!"</p> + +<p>But I had taken only a step when his hand fell on my +shoulder like a piece of steel and whirled me around. +There was nothing gentle in his voice this time as he +sharply commanded:</p> + +<p>"Look at me, you damn slacker, and let's see if I'm +talking to the man I fought the Boche with!"</p> + +<p>I must have appeared rather well indignant with him, +for he gave a low, reassured laugh, adding:</p> + +<p>"That's better. Now I want to say, once and for all—and +I swear it on each of these stars, both for myself +and Nell—that if we catch up with Princess Sylvia, and +you let her be taken away, I'll punch your face into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +jolly good pulp, so help me old Kentucky! Good +<i>night</i>!"</p> + +<p>"If you're man enough to do it," I yelled after him.</p> + +<p>Fine old Tommy! I believe I loved him then better +than ever before.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE CHASE BEGINS</h2> + + +<p>I slept like a log and was awake, anxious to turn out, +at the peep of dawn. But Gates was ahead of me when +I reached the deck. Our anchor had just been hoisted, +and every sail was set, though nearly limp with a +negligible breeze.</p> + +<p>"What news?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir; leastwise nothing of the <i>Orchid</i>. She's +gone."</p> + +<p>"We expected that. Any idea which way?"</p> + +<p>"I talked to a sponge fisher who came by a while back, +sir, and he said a schooner yacht sailed about midnight, +or maybe later; north, he said. But she carn't have got +far, as there hasn't been hardly any air stirring all night +till this little one now. If it wasn't so heavy off there +we might see her, I farncy. The mate's aloft, sir."</p> + +<p>I looked up and saw him steadily sweeping the distance +with his binoculars; but, as Gates had said, the +horizon in all directions was heavy, and in such weather +our search, indeed, seemed next to useless. With the +world a playground, how could we find this vagrant +yacht.</p> + +<p>Then I let my eyes rest on the tinted east, marvelling +at what a curiously beautiful, dangerously sweet old +world this is. The sky and water were beginning to be +touched by the first faint tones of rose, the dawn was +bringing its enchantment to this marriage-time of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +black and white. Over in the Key West barracks a +bugler would soon be blowing reveille; down in the +sleeping town stumpy little street cars would squeak +from their sheds and clang their discordant gongs +through the narrow thoroughfares. But farther yet to +the northeast, in the Florida I best knew and loved, a +whooping crane would startle the solitude with its uncanny +cry, the alligators would croak their guttural +grunts at waking time, while, here and there in the +shadowy forest, the whine of a skulking panther would +strike terror to the hearts of gentler things. Ah, the +trackless wilderness of dreamy Florida, where nature +moves on padded foot and silent wing!</p> + +<p>Gates had hoisted even the topmast- and maintopmast-staysails, +but these did not help much; and when Tommy +and Monsieur appeared half an hour later they were in +wretched humors at the way matters stood. The only +slight hope we nursed had been one cry of "Sail-ho!" +from the mate, but he could not tell what kind of a +craft had rested on his lens, because she was almost +at once swallowed by the distant bank of mist. At last, +with a squint into the southwest, Gates prophesied that +something worth while would be coming before long, +and with this crumb of comfort, seasoned by his promise +to call if anything appeared, we half-heartedly went +down to breakfast.</p> + +<p>Healthy man is ever cheered by breakfast, especially +if Pete has prepared it, and gradually our departed +spirits came lumbering back. I remembered Tommy's +promise of the night before to mutilate my countenance +on certain conditions, and began to laugh. Then he +laughed, doubtless because I had, and pretty soon Monsieur +showed signs of warming up.</p> + +<p>"This is what my boy Tommy would call hot-stuffie,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +eh?" he cried. "To be chasing a scoundrel who has +kidnaped a Princess is fun, you think so?"</p> + +<p>"And such a princess," Tommy rapturously exclaimed. +"Eyes more deep than the mysteries of twilight +shadows in a woodland pool!—oval cheeks more +damask than the rose which steals its fragrance from +her hair!—lips whose Cupid's bow——"</p> + +<p>"Here," I good-naturedly protested. "Don't make +her so wonderful! You won't have an adjective left for +the beautiful Bluegrass flower!"</p> + +<p>"But isn't she wonderful?—I challenge you, isn't she +perfect?"</p> + +<p>"That is a perilous assertion," Monsieur chuckled, +"since there is a Persian proverb that 'to be perfect is +to be damned.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, she'd rather be damned than ugly, if I know +anything about girls—and I do!" Tommy declared. +"Isn't that right, gezabo?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't what right? That you know so much about +girls? Bah! It is a young rooster's foolish talk! +Woman, my boy, is as the law of gravity—difficult to +understand, and I may add difficult to disobey. But to +comprehend her she must first be stripped——"</p> + +<p>"Why, you wicked old thing," Tommy, in mock astonishment, +gasped at him.</p> + +<p>"You do not let me finish," he blushingly protested. +"What I mean is stripped of her inexplicable——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come off," his tormentor burst out laughing. +"That's as transparent as a girl buying cigarettes for +her brother! I didn't know you were so curious."</p> + +<p>"Please—you shame me! I am curious of nothing, +and you will someday learn that curiosity is the root +of tragedy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's an epigram worthy of you: 'Curiosity is the +root of tragedy'—and the blossom of delight!"</p> + +<p>"I said nothing of delight," the professor blushed. "I +said tragedy! And—ah, I see! You are cut-upping! I +will not talk. Your conscience should hurt you!"</p> + +<p>"Not conscience, old fellow! The wages of conscience +is <i>ennui</i>, and the gods know how I hate that. Give me +your epigrams on delight and love, and the Princess of +Azuria!"</p> + +<p>"Love! Bah!" Monsieur now stormed in disgust. +"A mythical invention of diseased minds to explain +away our follies!"</p> + +<p>"Wait till she hears that," Tommy warned, "and +your head's as good as in the sawdust. I hope to +heaven she makes me her lord high executioner, and +darned if I don't lop it off with a single whack!"</p> + +<p>"And I hope you have a chance to tell her, so smart!"</p> + +<p>"I'll have a chance, all right, never you fear. I'm +the only one who will, for after you're disposed of, and +Jack has gone moony, this expedition will need a clear +thinker. There's where your uncle Tom comes in."</p> + +<p>"He understands himself so well," the professor indulgently +smiled.</p> + +<p>"It requires no concentration, really," I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Brutus," Tommy grinned at me over a +fork-load of buckwheat cakes, "can it be your cooling +blade I feel?"</p> + +<p>"It is; and you'll get it in the neck, good and properly, +if you don't leave me out of your silly nonsense," I +warned.</p> + +<p>"Here's a touchy one for you, gezabo! Yachting +with royalty the other night made him too good for +us."</p> + +<p>"You close up," I growled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a few minutes devoted to breakfast, he asked:</p> + +<p>"Are princesses like other people, I wonder? Jack +ought to be put wise, so he'll know how to behave when +we get her aboard."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, my boy Tommy," Monsieur answered, +taking him seriously, of course. "They are the same +as other young ladies, except more highly cultured, more +of education, more of that—what you call—indefinable +chasteness."</p> + +<p>"Indefinable chasteness," he puckered his lips and repeated +the phrase in a ruminating way. "D'you know, +a philosopher once told me that if ever I heard an old +lady call a girl anything like that, to put the young +one down for a kissable, artful little flirt; for in this +present day of ours, he said, woman understands everything +on God's green earth—except the mind of her +succeeding generation."</p> + +<p>"But I am no old lady," the professor bristled.</p> + +<p>"Sail-ho!" came the far off voice of the mate from +his perch aloft.</p> + +<p>We held our breaths, intently listening.</p> + +<p>"Where away?" Gates called, and I could picture +him: legs apart, head thrown back, hands cupped around +his lips.</p> + +<p>"Dead ahead, sir," came the answer: "I got a better +look at her this time, and she's a schooner yacht like +us!"</p> + +<p>We bounded from the table and dashed up the companionway +stairs out into the cockpit. The old skipper +was laughing gleefully, and our spirits were as high +as the masthead.</p> + +<p>"We're on the right track, Mr. Jack," he cried. "Just +wait till arfter a breeze springs up—she won't stay so +far ahead!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the breeze did not pick up and we continued to +poke along at about six knots, hardly consoled by the +knowledge that she was doing no better. Time seemed +to be creeping on its hands and knees. The <i>Orchid</i>, if +such were the yacht ahead of us, continued beyond the +fringe of mist, now mixed with a fine drizzle, showing +herself at rare intervals which served to keep us from +going astray.</p> + +<p>The slickers of the crew were dripping and shiny, +and we, too, soon looked like a flock of wet, disgruntled +hens. To add to my discomfiture the professor brought +up a newspaper and began consulting the shipping +news, blandly telling us that if we captured the princess +within forty-eight hours he could have her in +Azuria in twenty days. I was glad when the paper +got so wet that he had to throw it overboard.</p> + +<p>At luncheon we could not help being downcast, largely +owing to the drizzle which, aboard a yacht, is indeed a +spirit breaker. The few sporadic attempts we made at +cheer did not get very far. But after a little, happening +to glance at Tommy, I saw a look in his face that +put me on my guard for something. There was no hoax +about this, no "cut-upping."</p> + +<p>"Our conversation was interrupted this morning," he +said, in answer to my unspoken question. "There were +things I wanted to talk about—for instance, what'll we +do when we catch up?"</p> + +<p>I had thought of this a hundred times without finding +a very definite solution, as my fancies refused to reach +beyond the moment I should stand face to face with +Sylvia. But, after a fashion, I made answer:</p> + +<p>"We'll hand the scoundrel over to the law, I suppose, +and take the Princess——"</p> + +<p>"That's just it," he interrupted me. "Take her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +where? That's the point I want to make." His voice +was almost purring now—a sign with him of deadly +earnestness. He was continuing: "Suppose she has a +perfectly good home where she is! Suppose she doesn't +see the virtues in our interference that we see! How +do we know the man's a scoundrel, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Bah!" Monsieur cried. "She wrote a message of +danger! The man tried to blow us up! He made bad +money that I have here!"—whereupon he thumped his +breastpocket half a dozen times. "How do we know? +<i>Pardieu</i>, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"She wrote the message," Tommy admitted, "but +everything else you say is guess. Even suppose you're +right about it, where are our warrants? Where are the +sworn officers to serve them?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you that I have the authority, the absolute +authority!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that doesn't amount to a damn," Tommy replied +with supreme indifference, and for a moment I feared +Monsieur was going to have a stroke of apoplexy. +"Don't you see that we must possess proofs? And then +we've got to board his yacht, don't we? Is he going to +take a siesta while we stroll over the old tub? Your +authority, gezabo, is a scrap of paper unless, first, he's +the man who kidnapped your princess, and second, we +can lay our hands on him. Now try to think!"</p> + +<p>"Think! There is nothing to think—only to do! You +speak as a child! We must take that girl to her throne, +to her rightful heritage! By every law of conscience, +justice and humanity, there is nothing left for us to do! +Absolutely we must obey!"</p> + +<p>A silence fell upon Tommy and me. I saw him +moisten his lips and dart the professor a quick glance. +I knew how inherently strong that little fellow was in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +his loyalty, but had not been prepared for such an +appeal as this. Conscience, humanity, justice! He was +calling on my manhood to send her back to Azuria, out +of my arms, out of my life. And she would go; I felt it, +I knew it. I realized now that Tommy, in preambling +up to this point, intended to settle it once and for all. +And I realized how much farther his clear vision had +penetrated the situation than my own poor addled mind.</p> + +<p>Leaning forward, he said in the same soft voice—though +Monsieur did not recognize the deadly purpose +behind it:</p> + +<p>"Professor, if you seriously want to see Azuria again +I think we'd better arrange this thing, somehow. You +came here to look for a princess; Jack came—pardon +me, Jack, but it's unavoidable—for a sweetheart. Every +man to his trade, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and if I find Her Serene Highness I shall most +certainly restore her to——"</p> + +<p>"You'll most certainly do nothing of the kind," +Tommy interrupted him. "You see, old fellow, we +couldn't trust her to you—it wouldn't be fair. The +fact is, you've been acting mighty queerly of late, saying +all kinds of strange things!"</p> + +<p>A puzzled look came into the professor's eyes as he +glanced at me and then back at Tommy, who now leaned +confidentially nearer.</p> + +<p>"Do you realize," he soothingly continued, "that you +thought someone was trying to blow up our yacht?"</p> + +<p>"Trying to blow it up? Did I not have the bomb in +my hands?"</p> + +<p>"He still believes it, Jack," Tommy sighed. "There's +nothing to be done, I reckon, but take him back to Key +West. They've a pretty fair hospital there."</p> + +<p>Monsieur's face turned so livid and looked so weird<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +in its frame of straw-colored hair that I began to think +all the hospitals on earth could not save him. Sputtering, +he appealed to me:</p> + +<p>"The truth, my boy Jack—he is cut-upping?"</p> + +<p>But Tommy was saying:</p> + +<p>"We're awfully sorry, you dear old manatou; we'll +miss you, take my word for it."</p> + +<p>"You boys dare do this," he sprang to his feet, too +angry for further protest.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sir," Tommy spoke now in a different +tone. "Of course, I don't believe it, nor does Jack; but +others will if we take you to the Key West hospital tied +up in ropes and say you've got that blowing-up bug in +your bonnet. Get the point?"</p> + +<p>"I get no points," he furiously pounded the table.</p> + +<p>"Well, here it is, and its name is Compromise! Either +compromise, or the wow-wow house. We won't force +the issue; you must decide nicely, without being +pressed one way or the other. But these are the +facts: you're sailing on an American yacht; Jack's the +owner, Gates is captain, I'm the boss. We're hoping to +overhaul the <i>Orchid</i>, board her, capture the princess, +and all that. Then for one entire week Jack's to have +an uninterrupted tête-à-tête while you make yourself +invisible. Come along if you want to and turn the old +rascal over to your consul when we get home, plead with +the princess after Jack's week is up, recover a hundred +good bucks for your bad ones—but he has to have his +chance first, and we sign articles of agreement <i>right +now</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Children," he cried, with a great show of disgust. +"Should you return to Key West, how would you ever +find the <i>Orchid</i> again! Ah-ha, you have tripped yourselves!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not on your life, we haven't. We'll keep on now +and locate her hiding place, then deliver you to a guardian, +and come back."</p> + +<p>The professor thought a moment, breathing fast and +blinking.</p> + +<p>"What are those bucks you spoke about?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Bucks? Hell, man, they're beans, bones—the things +you won at roulette!"</p> + +<p>"I won no such things at roulette," he gravely shook +his head, adding slowly: "So I must agree, eh? <i>Tres-bien!</i> +Yet I warn you that she will go back with me in +spite of all my boy Jack can say in a week, or a year. +It is inevitable—she can not possibly disobey! Come! +You win for the moment, so we will drink, standing +together for Azuria!"</p> + +<p>"Standing for your grandmother," Tommy laughed. +"No, you jolly old filbert, we stand for Jack and Sylvia, +and don't you forget it! We'll use your vaunted authority, +too, when the time comes to make that scoundrel +surrender. Now let's get our arsenal in shape!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur approved of this, entering into it with a +boyish spirit, and for a long time we went over rifles +and automatics, showing him their virtues, explaining +the accuracy of their range, occasionally throwing one +up to the shoulder and taking a quick aim over the +sights, as fellows will who find them good companions.</p> + +<p>"I'll lay you odds, Professor, that the barrels of some +of this hardware get hot before night," Tommy said.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I will not bet on such bloody business. You +think we fight today?"</p> + +<p>"Two to one on it," he answered; then giving my +shoulder a slap that felt like the kick of a mule, he cried:</p> + +<p>"So romance and adventure died with the war, did +they? Oh, <i>baby</i>, what a shame!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A SHOT FROM THE DARK</h2> + + +<p>During the first few hours of the afternoon we had +looked on deck several times, but felt better satisfied to +remain below, out of the drizzle. Now the captain's +big voice rumbled some kind of good news, and each of +us made a dash for the stairs.</p> + +<p>Even as we piled out into the cockpit the mate gave +a yell and sailors sprang to haul down the topmast-and +main-topmast-staysails. Off in the southwest, which +had been leaden from horizon to meridian showing no +distinction of water and sky, appeared a spot of light, +a glow, growing rapidly brighter. Before it the misty +rain was being wiped as if by magic from the air.</p> + +<p>Looking toward the northward I beheld the other +yacht standing out in bold relief upon a blacker, more +dismal background. She was beautiful at that moment—her +sides and sails unnaturally whitened against the +gloom, suggesting a cameo set on a piece of slate. Our +blocks began to creak, sails bulged into huge scoops, +masts tilted majestically, and the <i>Whim</i>, freed from her +enforced idleness, bounded in response.</p> + +<p>"Wind!" Tommy shouted, his arms held skyward. +"Aphrodite, sweet and mighty, send a gale before the +nighty!"</p> + +<p>"But," Monsieur looked at him reprovingly, "Aphrodite +is not goddess of the wind!"</p> + +<p>"Who said she was?" he innocently asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You conjure her for the gale—bah!"</p> + +<p>"That's because she rhymes with nighty, gezabo! +When my Muse sings, to hell with mythology! Come +join the clouds—you're sordid!"</p> + +<p>"These have been sordid clouds," the little fellow +laughed. "I would rather join you in other, but a more +genial, wet."</p> + +<p>"Gates, how long before we catch her?" I called.</p> + +<p>"I carn't measure her speed yet, sir, but should say +we won't be far behind in an hour and a harf."</p> + +<p>"Then," Tommy announced, "we'll go below and +drink to the safety of our sweet Princess—for, unless +I'm greatly mistaken, this day will see the finish of one +good yacht! Give over the wheel and join us, Captain!"</p> + +<p>It was a hilarious four that touched glasses in the +cabin, and after Gates went above we set to work in +good earnest on our arms and cartridge belts. Having +seen that each piece worked perfectly we followed him +up, and the sight which greeted our eyes made us laugh +for joy.</p> + +<p>How we accomplished it only Gates could have told, +but now in the late afternoon light the <i>Orchid</i> seemed +to be less than half her former distance. Looking over +the rail at the flying water I felt a great pride in my +father's craft, for she fairly skimmed along. Monsieur +began at once to hug the captain, and this time the old +skipper did not mind—at least, he permitted it.</p> + +<p>There was, of course, some concern along with our +happiness; first of importance being the declining day +that held scarcely more than an hour of light. Had it +been otherwise, had the blessing of good sailing weather +come to us earlier, we might have held an immediate +council of war; but this for the present could be left. +It was a profound disappointment, though, and showed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +in our strained silence. Gates stood at my elbow.</p> + +<p>"How'll we find her in the morning—if we don't +catch up pretty soon?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of that, sir. Now, as she sees we can +sail circles around her with a good breeze, she won't +hold the same course, and can give us a mighty slip +during the night. We're almost in——" he hesitated, +and again ventured: "We're almost in close enough to +send a shot across her bows, sir, if you wish to bring +her about!"</p> + +<p>Tommy, overhearing, let out a yell of joy. The old +skipper's suggestion electrified us all, particularly myself, +for it promised that he would see this affair through +at any and all costs—and I had been apprehensive +regarding the attitude of Gates, lest his love for me, or +for the <i>Whim</i>, cause him to balk short of the danger +line. So, hastily imploring Monsieur to hug him again, +I dashed below for one of the rifles. This arm was a +neat high-power sporting model, but I thought it might +persuade our kidnaper to look around.</p> + +<p>Coming up, however, I found that another plan had +been adopted. Gates and Tommy were busily unlacing +the canvas cover from our brass cannon. While it was +only used for signaling, it could make a stunning racket. +Bilkins was holding a box of blank shells, each containing +somewhere near twenty drams of black powder. As +I approached, Tommy was excitedly arguing with Gates +who, this time, seemed to demur.</p> + +<p>"It's not of the <i>Orchid</i> I'm thinking, sir," he turned +appealingly to me, "but ourselves! Miss Nancy—as Mr. +Thomas calls this young howitzer, here,—won't stand +much fooling. She warn't built for it, and if we go +pressing her too hard she'll bust a stay—which is the +same, sir, as sending harf of us to the sick-bay!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What I want to do," Tommy explained, "is load her +up with sinkers and truck like that, and touch her off +right! Just a blank won't tell those devils anything, +but if we pepper 'em with a hat full of old junk they'll +haul-to in a jiffy!"</p> + +<p>"Surest thing in the world," I cried. "Suppose she +does bust a stay, Gates! We can huddle in the cockpit +and fire her with a long lanyard—then let her bust!"</p> + +<p>"That's easy, sir," he still remonstrated, "but suppose +Miss Sylvia's looking out a porthole and stops one +of the sinkers!"</p> + +<p>The thought of it made me shiver. Tommy, however, +his enthusiasm undampened, acquiesced at once, saying:</p> + +<p>"Righto, Gates! Blank it is! Cartridge, Bilkins! I'm +ready—say when!"</p> + +<p>"Wait! Let's get a bit closer, sir," Gates urged.</p> + +<p>Several minutes passed. We were only four hundred +yards from the <i>Orchid</i> now and cutting down the space. +She stood off our starboard quarter and, although a +great deal more obscure in the gathering dusk, her cabin +lights came on changing the portholes to a line of golden +disks. Then another solitary light appeared, being carried +aft by a sailor who fastened it to the taffrail. It +was the stern lantern being swung out for the night, +and I could not help smiling at this delightful display +of audacity, deliberately to put up that tell-tale beacon, +right in our faces, as it were.</p> + +<p>"It's a good bluff," Gates chuckled, "but they don't +intend leaving it there for long, sir. I'd say we'd better +fire now, Mr. Thomas, and when they stop we'll have a +little chat with 'em."</p> + +<p>Tommy sprang up and pulled the string, and our eyes +were dazzled, our ears jarred, with a perfectly glorious +explosion that lighted up the sea for a hundred yards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Whiz-bang!" Tommy yelled. "I wish I had this +thing in Kentucky! It'd work wonders for the Democrats!"</p> + +<p>Nothing happened aboard the <i>Orchid</i>. She did not +vary her course an inch. The sailor at the helm had +given a frantic jump when Miss Nancy went off, but +resumed his place evidently aware that no missiles had +been fired.</p> + +<p>"Load her up again," I urged. "Let's keep on till +they get mad!"</p> + +<p>Bilkins passed out the shells and the piece was loaded +and fired, loaded and fired, till we seemed surely to have +waked old Nep himself. I do not know how many +rounds we shot but it must have continued for some +time, thoroughly engrossing us. Now suddenly the +stern light went out, and immediately afterwards the +portholes, losing their glow, became as nothing. The +tropical night, always swift in coming, had fallen more +stealthily than we realized, and the yacht melted into +darkness.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacré bleu!</i>" Monsieur raged—for the night was +overcast and as black as sin.</p> + +<p>But Gates was already stripping the searchlight of its +cover. When he had swung open the big lens Tommy +struck a match, which blew out. His second was blown +out by a hiss of air that preceded the flow of gas, and +the professor jumbled matters by trying his hand. But +these efforts scarcely took more time than the telling, +and when the powerful streak of light finally pierced +the darkness the very first thing it showed us was a +white sail.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have worried about night catching us, +sir, if I'd thought of this before," Gates laughed. "And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +there's plenty of extra acetylene tanks, too, so she carn't +get away now!"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to haul down some sail, though," I +replied, seeing that the <i>Orchid</i> lay nearly abeam of us.</p> + +<p>"No quicker said than done, sir."</p> + +<p>He went to direct this, while we held our light +squarely on the fleeing outlaw. Nobody was astir about +her deck; indeed, so undisturbed did she appear that +the sailor standing statue-like at her wheel might have +been the only living thing aboard.</p> + +<p>I breathed fast with thinking that maybe Sylvia +might come up, and my senses were so alert, my mind, +eyes, ears so intently reaching toward her, that now I +heard what was indeed a most unexpected sound: a +piano. Grasping Tommy's arm I whispered this to him, +and he nodded, saying in a low tone:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear it plainly. Reminds me of Monsieur's +master musician playing a rhapsody in the dark, d'you +remember? Listen! Gods, it's '<i>De puis le jour</i>,' from +Louise!" Yet in the next breath he added: "Cheerful +girl you have, Jack,—she's switched off from her love +song to Chopin's funeral march!"</p> + +<p>I dolefully smiled to myself, not at the funeral march +but at the realization that dreams are only dreams and +nothing more, that Gates's common sense had come +nearer hitting the mark than all of our professor's psychology; +for I had seen no piano in that cabin, and five +minutes ago I would have sworn its interior was as well +known to me as the <i>Whim</i>. But an instant later my +smile had given way to a cry of rage, as a little streak +of fire spat from one of the portholes and the big lens +of our searchlight, with a bang, shattered into a thousand +pieces.</p> + +<p>"The nerve of it," Tommy yelled, violently shaking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +his hand that had been resting on the brass frame. +"Damn his hide, he nearly shot off my finger!"</p> + +<p>"Are you hit?" I asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Hell, no; but my hand feels like a pincushion! Say, +he knows how to shoot, though! I'll give him that +much!"</p> + +<p>"Those people are prepared for all that comes, I tell +you," Monsieur vigorously nodded his head. "They +must even have violet spectacles for looking into search-lights, +else that fellow's eyes could not have stood the +glare."</p> + +<p>Again the <i>Orchid</i> was invisible. For a moment I +thought that out of the dark sky my gods were derisively +mocking me; but it was a human sound, a long, +triumphant laugh, doubtless from the coarse-throated +creature who had made the lucky shot.</p> + +<p>Gates, fearing we might answer it in kind, came forward +to counsel silence, at the same time sending a sailor +for the megaphone and ordering another to extinguish +our own lights. With his knife he then hastily cut the +megaphone in half, keeping the large end whose openings +now tapered from about eight inch to eighteen inch +diameters. As we stood, not understanding what he +meant to do, I heard across the water a rattling of +blocks and knew the <i>Orchid</i>, free of pursuit, was changing +her course. Gates cocked his head and listened, then +whispered to the mate who went back and changed the +<i>Whim's</i> course.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Jack," he said, in a guarded tone, "we're +behind her, and dark, too; so keep all hands as quiet as +mice, sir! Take the wheel and steer as I signal from +under my coat with this electric torch, like this: one +long, means put your helm up a point, two long means +two points; but a short flash means down a point, two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +short down two points. D'you understand, sir? We've +got to keep close to her, or daylight'll find her gone! +I'm going out on the bowsprit and, with this piece of +megaphone to help, think I can follow by sound. +They're apt to make some noise, believing themselves +safe. And their blocks are bound to rattle when they +change their course—which they'll be doing before long +as we're both headed for the coast of Florida, twenty-five +or thirty miles off. Now go back quiet, sir, and +watch for my lights."</p> + +<p>God bless old Gates, I said to myself.</p> + +<p>Till well into the night that indefatigable sea dog sat +astride the bowsprit with the crude sound magnifier over +his ear, while I, alert and watchful, gripped the wheel +as though I were driving a speed boat. In the beginning +he had sent a few signals, and we jockied this way and +that, but after perhaps an hour we settled down to another +straight course—though I could not tell how near +we were, or if we were sailing right, or if they suspected +us.</p> + +<p>Tommy had come aft to keep me company, and now +asked in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"What do you think about that piano?"</p> + +<p>"I think she played like an angel."</p> + +<p>"Son, you don't get the point. What do you think +about changing suddenly from that exquisite Charpentier +love song to a funeral march—just before the rifle +went off?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean she was signaling?" I asked in surprise, +for the idea knocked me a little bit silly.</p> + +<p>"I mean just that; of course, she was signaling, and +taking a big chance, too. You may put your own construction +on the first piece she played, but the instant +she saw what they were up to she sent us the flash. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +only trouble about it was that we weren't anywhere near +as quick."</p> + +<p>"But look here," I said, alarmed by another thought, +"suppose she meant it would be <i>her</i> funeral march if +we keep up the pursuit?"</p> + +<p>Tommy considered this.</p> + +<p>"I reckon not," he finally replied. "They might +threaten us with her death if we don't turn back, but +there'd be no reason to kill her otherwise. No, she saw +them preparing to shoot—which you can't deny that +they did, jolly good and well."</p> + +<p>"She's a queen," I murmured.</p> + +<p>"Queen! That girl must be a royal straight flush in +hearts, and if it weren't for Nell I'd adore her to the +tips of my teeth!"</p> + +<p>At midnight I sent the mate to relieve Gates and gave +the wheel to a likely sailor, and after making sure they +understood the signals we went below for a bite to eat. +Although the day of suspense had been wearing, my +brain was too active to permit much thought of sleep; +but finally Gates nodded, awoke with a jerk, and started +off to bed. He had had no easy time of it on the bowsprit, +good old Gates!</p> + +<p>Tommy and I talked in low tones while the professor +sat to one side, humped over and buried in thought. He +was a strange looking spectacle when buried in thought. +His countenance then became all wrinkles, with a kind +of turned-up nubbin in the middle that I knew to be a +nose, only because I'd previously seen it—otherwise it +might have been almost anything that one does not +expect to find in the center of a man's face. Tommy +regarded him a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," he whispered, "come join this confab. +We're up against the real thing in the morning, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +may as well begin to lay pipe. The old catamount who +shot out our searchlight won't have any more regard +for our personal lights, let's keep that in mind. What's +more, he has a real excuse now, because we fired those +blanks at him which he'll find it convenient to say +weren't blanks. So the business is coming off to a certainty. +What's your idea?"</p> + +<p>"My idea?"</p> + +<p>"I meant to be that flattering, yes. What do you +think we'll be up against when ordering the <i>Orchid</i> to +surrender?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know; but something we are not expecting, +you may be sure," he dolefully answered.</p> + +<p>"That sort of gloom won't get us anywhere," Tommy +retorted. "Try another thought!"</p> + +<p>"It gets us very far! If we expect to experience what +we are not expecting, then we are expecting it! How +can we be surprised when we are prepared for the thing +we are not prepared for? It is obvious. That is my +idea."</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to keep it in a less fragile place. +Try still another, gezabo!"</p> + +<p>But he was inclined to pout now, and would neither +talk nor listen to our entreaties.</p> + +<p>"Well," he exclaimed at last, with a superior smile +as he struck the table smartly, "I will tell you this: I +have nothing more to say!"</p> + +<p>It was a lot of preparation for a mighty small result, +I thought, and Tommy smiled at the childish gentleman, +murmuring sweetly:</p> + +<p>"If you really mean that, and stick to it, pray accept +my congratulations upon having reached the height of +conversational charm. Now, Jack, let's plan!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p><p>But Monsieur, while unwilling to talk, was also unwilling +to be ignored. I think he wanted to be coaxed. +People get that way, sometimes. So he petulantly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"You think I am what you call an old crank!"</p> + +<p>"No I don't, honest!" Tommy gave me a wink. +"Even if I did, it's a compliment in America to be +called a crank, because cranks make things move. Now +help us out, like a good sport. By this time tomorrow +you'll be shot to pieces, for all we know."</p> + +<p>He said it solemnly, but his humorous mouth showed +how much he wanted to laugh. I believe Tommy would +have walked to the gallows joking with his executioner. +That infectious smile, sometimes the flash of his teeth, +but always a snap in his honest gray eyes, were invariably +quickened by the imminence of danger. I knew +Tommy; therefore I also knew that beneath his jocose +raillery were nerves stretched to concert pitch that +meant music for whoever stood in his way tomorrow.</p> + +<p>The professor sat up straighter and blinked at him.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say I get shot to pieces?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? The fellow'd be a fool to sit by and let +us go aboard—and we've got to go aboard!"</p> + +<p>"It is nonsense! You want my advice? Then leave +him alone!"</p> + +<p>I think that Tommy's eyes narrowed slightly. I know +that my teeth clenched at this evidence of quitting; yet +what could we expect from a chap who did nothing but +teach in a University?</p> + +<p>"You won't be in any danger," I said, arising. +"We'll manage all right. Come on, Tommy!"</p> + +<p>"You will not manage—that is just it," he angrily +retorted. "You two boys will strut about like roosters +showing what good fighters you are, and get blown up +through the insides! Have I not seen it often? Bah!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +He ran his hands through his hair. "Why is it, when +brains are as easily cultivated as biceps, that young +bloods think only of a strong arm! You stay in the +cabin and leave the man to me; then I will take him +before your eyes, and nobody get hurt!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think we quite understand!"</p> + +<p>"Of course! But there are no ladies on the <i>Orchid</i> +whom I desire to charm, therefore I will be rational. +Your <i>Capitaine</i> Gates will lower a boat, we row to the +scoundrel's yacht, I present my authority, he surrenders, +and we bring him back. There is no bloodshed, and my +two young friends who are disposed to ridicule me will +not get hurt!"</p> + +<p>Tommy flushed, and I felt uncommonly like a pup.</p> + +<p>"But suppose he won't come?—suppose he begins to +fight?"—we asked these questions simultaneously. They +were quite unnecessary, for the man would not come +and, moreover, he would fight; but Monsieur's earnestness +and visionary assumption had completely disarmed +us.</p> + +<p>"In that case, your Gates and I will shoot him," he +answered, as a matter of course. "Such grizzly alternatives +must sometimes be the means of peace and harmony."</p> + +<p>Some might at times have called him an idiot, and on +occasions I have found myself wondering if he possessed +a scintilla of common sense, but no one after this +could call him a coward. He would have gone single-handed +to the <i>Orchid</i> with the same beautiful faith that +a wee child would crawl into the kennel of a vicious +dog. It was not in Monsieur to consider that anyone +would dare disobey his Azurian authority.</p> + +<p>"Gezabo," Tommy said tenderly, "I'm going to lock +you up tomorrow, for if anyone so much as rumples<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +your noble topknot I'll cut him to ribbons—so'll Jack. +Now kick us, and go to bed. We've been a pair of braying +asses, and you're a sure-nuff Prince!"</p> + +<p>And, although I thought that Tommy had done most +of the braying, I was willing to let it go at that. A +lack of discriminating accuracy on his part might have +been pardoned when we were faced by issues of so much +greater portent. The dawn was but six hours off, and +with it would come—what?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A SILENT ENEMY</h2> + + +<p>Bilkins rushed into my room at daylight announcing +perfect weather and the <i>Orchid</i> sailing some twelve +miles astern of us. While dressing I wondered how she +could have fallen so far behind, but assumed that our +men on watch must finally have lost her. As this seemed +to be a reasonable explanation, since the later the night +the more probability of her company having settled +down and become quiet, I dismissed these speculations +of no consequence for a feeling of thankfulness that she +had not escaped us.</p> + +<p>Gates was on his way to call me when I came out, and +one look at his broad smile required no further augury +of good news.</p> + +<p>"We're arfter her hard, sir," he said, "and have been +drawing up farst this hour gone. We'll be in hailing +distance in another two hours, or less."</p> + +<p>"There's a good wind?"</p> + +<p>"Fair, sir. The mate, who's aloft, says that for some +reason she's hauled down everything but mains'l and +jib, and carn't be making any speed to speak of. Still, +she's going along. We've quite some canvas set. He +says there was noise enough to follow till about five bells +of the morning watch; then she grew so still he wondered +if she'd sunk. You'd better have breakfast, sir, +for we'll be on her, as I say, in two hours or less."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p><p>This was Tommy's idea when I met him with Monsieur +in the cabin, but Tommy was always ready for +breakfast. They had become reconciled—or, perhaps, +I ought to say the professor seemed to have forgiven +both of us handsomely. Gates sat down with us for +there was much to talk about. In fact, the professor, +in his uncontrollable and passionate appetite for grapefruit, +had scarcely extruded a spray of its juice in our +direction—the usual evidence with us that breakfast had +seriously begun—when the question of how we should +board the <i>Orchid</i> was raised. The old skipper listened +to my plan, then to Tommy's, and after these he turned +to our little scientist, who waved a hand with no small +degree of impatience, saying:</p> + +<p>"One is visionary, the other is crazy. One wants to +blow her out of the water—with what? The other wants +to do something no one can understand—and why? But +they both agree upon killing everyone on board except +a privileged lady. It is school-boy tomfoolery!"</p> + +<p>"Tomfoolery your grandmother," Tommy flared up. +"What do you suggest that's any better—the utopian +scheme you sprung on us last night?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know we have to board her?" Monsieur +thrust half a biscuit in his mouth and took a long drink +of coffee. "I have been thinking since; I have been on +deck, and observed. There is wind, and we are catching +up. Off there," he pointed toward something the +cabin walls prevented us from seeing, "is land; low, +gray-blue land. Now it can be done with cattle, but can +it be done with yachts?"</p> + +<p>"Can what be done?" we asked.</p> + +<p>"We shall sail out, head her back, and drive her into +the land until she sticks!"</p> + +<p>Never having heard of such a silly idea I looked at +Gates, who was chuckling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, it might be done, sir," he laughed, "if she stood +close enough to the islands. We might jockey her that +way, foul her a bit, and make her go aground—or fight. +But, Lor' bless you, she's sailing straight west across +the Gulf, with nothing but a thousand miles of good +water between her and the mouth of the Rio Grande!"</p> + +<p>"Get in front—butt her around," Monsieur cried. +"If she does not like it, then let her, as you suggest, +fight!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you've said something at last," Tommy +grinned. "How about it, Gates? And, by the way, +what are those islands you spoke of? We're looking +for a certain</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'——one of many, many islands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set like emerald jewels in an ever changing sea.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Though with his sincerity there was also the bantering +tone of the unbeliever here.</p> + +<p>"It's the Ponce de Leon Bay, sir, with the Ten Thousand +Islands—and I'd say there're all of ten thousand, +or quite harf, anyway."</p> + +<p>With his fork he quickly drew on the tablecloth a +sketch of southwestern Florida, outlining the waters +northeast of Cape Sable and with little jabs indicating +the island area which extends up and down the coast, +as well as into Whitewater Bay. Gates was used to +doing this kind of thing and he did it well, with the +result that we got a very clear idea of what he meant. +No one knew the exact number of islands, he said, because +they had never been charted. Government surveys +had been considered useless, in all probability; +and, of private interests, there were none. No boat, +except perhaps at rare intervals a very small craft of +adventurous spirit, ever tried to enter—but, as to that,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +twenty small boats might spend a month's playing in +that maze and never meet. The mainland, for many +miles in all directions, was without habitation, and these +conditions had isolated this entire section as completely +as though it were in the heart of a South American +jungle.</p> + +<p>Difficult as it was to believe that on the "Playground +Peninsula" of eastern United States an unsurveyed +primeval wilderness of perhaps three thousand square +miles had remained absolutely detached from inquisitive +civilization, I was soon to learn that Gates had not in +any way exaggerated. It was there; it is there today in +the same unbroken solitude, for any to see who will.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't she duck in there and hide last night?" +I asked, coming out of the charmed spell his description +had cast over me.</p> + +<p>"She daren't, sir. Nothing but a dinghy, or the like +of that, has ever gone in very far. Leastwise, I don't +think so. The islands are just a lot of oyster-shell bars +covered with sand and overgrown with red mangrove +trees. I've been told the channel between 'em sometimes +isn't more'n a foot deep; but in other places there +may be good water. What I mean to say is that they're +not charted, and I doubt if any man living could find +his way through 'em the same way twice. They lay in a +bunch stretching about forty miles north and south, and +maybe fifteen or twenty through. Some are good sized—we'll +say a mile long—but others run down to the size +of the <i>Whim</i>. Oh, he wouldn't dare to run in there, +sir! Now we might try to tease him close to 'em and +crowd him some way, as the professor says—or let him +do the other thing!"</p> + +<p>"That sounds like some plan," Tommy sprang to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +feet. "We'll tease him, all right, if we shoot fast +enough!"</p> + +<p>"But they must be let to begin that shooting first," +Monsieur insisted.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know why?" Tommy turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Why? What right have we to come and start such +a business?"</p> + +<p>"What right have we to crowd her out of the ocean?" +Tommy answered with another question. "What right +have they to blow us up?—or steal a girl?—or counterfeit +our money?—or darn near shoot my finger off and +then laugh at me? To hell with rights! We've got +more than that scoundrel has, if we haven't any!"</p> + +<p>Gates got up with an oath.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "and shoot out my searchlight! No, +Professor, I'd say the shooting's already begun. But +they won't stand for too much fooling, not if I know +anything!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," Monsieur sighed, "give me the gun."</p> + +<p>"Give him Miss Nancy," Tommy laughed. "Now, +fellows, suppose a couple of us entrench on top of the +cabin, to get the advantage of altitude—the superiority +of position, as it were—and command their decks!"</p> + +<p>"You'll need a fair protection, sir, as they'll be shooting +from the portholes," Gates said. "And we carn't +fire back at the portholes because of the lady!"</p> + +<p>"Righto! But the man at their wheel's our meat, +and anyone else who comes to take his place. Minus a +steersman they're helpless; and then, Gates, if we can +run alongside and batten down (is that what you call +it?) their hatches, they're ours."</p> + +<p>"Suppose they send the Princess out, herself, to +steer?" Monsieur asked.</p> + +<p>The suggestion gave me a turn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Still, they may not think of that," he continued, +"and our two shooters may command their decks quite +easily. It is good. If a man comes out to steer you will +shoot him till he runs downstairs again, then we go +aboard and sail home. Yes, it is a good plan."</p> + +<p>"Shoot him till he runs downstairs!" Tommy gasped. +"What d'you think we're going to do—just spank him +with lead?"</p> + +<p>"I'll say that professor is in a clarss by himself, sir," +Gates turned to me, chuckling.</p> + +<p>The next half hour was a busy one. Our sailors, singing +with happiness, brought up from the cuddy rolls of +extra sails that were lowered overboard for a good wetting, +then mauled into a neat rifle pit on the cabin roof—as +snug as I'd want anywhere, and quite able to stop +high-power bullets. Gates then showed another bit of +generalship that called anew for Monsieur's nods of +approval. Since our own helmsman would be as much +exposed as the man on the <i>Orchid</i>—whom we intended +to "shoot until he ran downstairs"—the mate brought +up some line, bent it several times around the wheel +drum, passed it through newly fastened blocks, and let +it run into the cockpit. By this arrangement he could +lie on the floor, as safe as you please, and steer according +to orders sung up by the old skipper who, stationed +below with a shaving mirror—suggesting a trench periscope—would +take his bearings without showing any +portion of his face. It was a nice piece of work.</p> + +<p>"One carn't be too cautious, sir," he explained. +"Harf our chance of coming out ahead is being ready +beforehand, and harf our satisfaction is to keep from +having any burials at sea—which are gruesome things, +any way you take 'em, sir."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p><p>Bilkins had acted as armorer and laid out rifles, bandoliers +bulging with filled clips, and a few automatic revolvers; +then in a low tone he said to me:</p> + +<p>"I'll never go back, sir, if anything happens to you +today."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will," I replied, touched by his show of +devotion. "You'll have to tell them why it happened. +But don't be a raincrow. We'll come through."</p> + +<p>Gates now sent the men to stations for we were within +a half a mile of the <i>Orchid</i>. Then Tommy stepped into +our rifle pit and laid down. I followed. Quietly each +of us beat a crease in the soaked canvas through which +we could fire without showing too much head.</p> + +<p>The mate, crouched below, tried his new steering +device as Gates sang up an order, and swore a jovial +oath at the ease with which the <i>Whim</i> responded. +Within his reach was an automatic, and he looked the +very picture of contentment.</p> + +<p>Along the side of my rifle barrel now resting in the +crease I took a good look at the <i>Orchid</i> sailing with +apparent unconcern but a short way out from us, but I +could picture the activity and hatred seething below +her deck. I wondered what Sylvia might be thinking +about all this; if she associated our pursuit by the +slightest imaginative thread with a fellow who impolitely +stared at her in a Havana café, yet to whom she +had been willing to cry: "I am in danger!" Presumptuous +fallacy! Then other thoughts began to race +through my brain. Now that we were face to face with +action, how were we going to come out? Had I a right +to imperil those who were sailing with me? Was it +not my duty, even at this eleventh hour, to order the +<i>Whim</i> back?</p> + +<p>I turned to Tommy, saying:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You didn't ship for this kind of thing, old man. If +anything happens to you I'll feel like the devil."</p> + +<p>"So'll I," he grinned. "Don't bother about how +you'll feel if anything happens to <i>me</i>; keep those regrets +for the moment a hot pill investigates your own honorable +insides, Mr. Jackass! I wouldn't miss this party +for a million dollar bill. Settle down, now. Gates is +pointing closer." Then, peeping along his rifle, he +crooned one of our regimental paraphrases: "Stick +your head up, Fritzy-Fritz, while I plug you in the +gizzard," adding: "I don't see anyone at their wheel!"</p> + +<p>I took another squint and, just as he had said, their +deck was deserted—not a man in sight.</p> + +<p>"What d'you make of it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Get down," he warned. "Don't forget that anyone +who could center our searchlight, as some crafty +boy did last night, won't have much trouble peeling a +scalp at three hundred yards! They've probably made +a steering rig like ours, that's all. The first thing we +know bally hell will spit out of those portholes, if my +guess counts! Beats a trench raid, doesn't it, old man?"</p> + +<p>"All hollow," I agreed. "We've got 'em this trip!"</p> + +<p>"We have unless they carry a ten-pounder—in which +case we'll take a bath. Freeze close, buddie!"</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer we drew, but no bally hell came +from her. She showed absolutely no sign of anyone, not +even a pile of canvas or a box that might hide a sharp-shooter. +That, then, was the old counterfeiter's ruse: +to tempt us into taking the initiative when, more than +likely, he was ready with the probable ten-pounder to +sink us. Still, it felt rather snug to be lying there elbow +to elbow with Tommy.</p> + +<p>Gates had steered so close by this time that any skipper +on the other yacht, not endowed with stupendous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +nerve, would certainly have gone about; for we had +maneuvered to get the right of way, and a collision +would have been entirely the <i>Orchid's</i> fault. But no +one ran out, nor did her course change, and at the very +last minute Gates called an order that brought us off a +few points.</p> + +<p>We were now sailing parallel, not more than ten +fathoms apart, and could have thrown a biscuit on her +deck. I glanced out the corner of my eye at Tommy. +His cheek rested snugly against the stock of his rifle and +his finger stroked the trigger, I thought affectionately.</p> + +<p>Had either of us been more conversant with nautical +matters we would have noticed something that Gates +now came crawling up to tell us. He did this without +being much exposed, by creeping along until abreast +of us and then projecting himself, headfirst or any other +way, into our midst. It was an active accomplishment +for one of Gates's years.</p> + +<p>"D'you see what they've done?" he excitedly asked. +"That wheel, there, is lashed over; they've paid out the +mains'l enough to starboard, and set the jib properly to +port. That's why the fores'l isn't up!"</p> + +<p>"What of it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, she'll sail that way all day in a wind like +this, and nobody have to touch her! They knew we'd +be popping at their helmsman, and they fixed it so we +carn't! Now it's our turn to start something!"</p> + +<p>"Then start it," Tommy said. "Run alongside and +we'll climb over!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thomas," he demurred, "that's rank piracy, +unless we're the law. I wouldn't say no, understand, +if there warn't some other way. But if we try it they'll +have every right to shoot us down—which they can easy +do, being hid and ready!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You forget, Gates, they haven't a right on earth. +They don't want to face the law with the best justification +ever known—they'd be mortally afraid to!"</p> + +<p>"Then they wouldn't be any less particular about +shooting us," the old skipper replied.</p> + +<p>There was no denying that Tommy had impaled himself +upon his own point; not that he cared a hang +whether they began shooting or not, but the anxiety of +Gates caused him to temporize, and he said:</p> + +<p>"Bluff it! Sing across that we're the U. S. A. ordering +'em to stop. Say it strong enough to make us believe +it, too, Gates—so we'll feel self-righteous when the scrap +comes!"</p> + +<p>Gates grinned and, cupping his hands, shouted:</p> + +<p>"<i>Orchid</i>, ahoy! This yacht's chartered by the U. S. +Secret Service, and you're ordered to come about! Delay +one minute and we blow you out of the water!"</p> + +<p>"Accomplished old liar," Tommy chuckled. "See +anything?"</p> + +<p>Gates, so earnest was he in this rôle of Uncle Sam, +had his watch out, marking off the seconds. When the +sixtieth had ticked he called again, in a more ferocious +tone:</p> + +<p>"Time's up, but I'll give you harf a minute longer! +This is the larst word!"</p> + +<p>"Now," said Tommy, having waited the thirty seconds +which brought no response, "let's see you make +good! Will you fire a torpedo, or one of the fifteen-inch +guns?"</p> + +<p>But Gates was seeing no humor in the situation; +neither was I; neither was Tommy, if the truth were +known. Our position was in a sense desperate. We had +bluffed and the bluff had been called. Five minutes ago +we might have turned back, but such a course now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +would make us laughing-stocks even to ourselves. And +there was Sylvia. What sort of a quitter would she +think me!</p> + +<p>I saw that someone had to board that yacht, even +though such a course, almost to a certainty, meant a +test of the professor's surgical skill—a skill we knew he +possessed along with his other attainments. But I could +not—I simply would not—risk any of our fellows on an +undertaking so hazardous. Conscious, however, of +Tommy's utter pig-headedness I saw the futility of +merely asking him to stay behind; so my mind became +instantly made up and, turning to Gates, I sharply +asked:</p> + +<p>"Who commands here?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm the captain, sir," he answered, surprised +at my tone.</p> + +<p>"But whose orders are absolute?"</p> + +<p>"Yours, Mr. Jack, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then take this man below and keep him there while +you run your rail alongside the <i>Orchid</i>. Nobody follows +me until I call, or shoot. Be lively, Captain!"</p> + +<p>He looked his horror, but stiffly saluted, saying +"Come" to Tommy who had turned white with anger +and murderously glared at me.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean this dirty trick?" he asked, and I did +not meet his eyes when admitting it.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes he and Gates were safely in the +cabin—Gates having dived nimbly out of our canvas +fort; while Tommy, oozing rage, had walked erect, shaking +his fist at the <i>Orchid</i> and calling me pretty much +every kind of a lizard that crawls the earth.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the mad that this aroused was good for me. +I had charged into an enemy's face once or twice under +a certain amount of unpleasant fire and most uncom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>fortable +sensations. A fellow's <i>savoir faire</i> is far from +being faultless on such occasions, but if he's mad—damn +mad—he gets along rather well, and Tommy's +insulting words turned the trick for me.</p> + +<p>We had luffed a bit to let the <i>Orchid</i> draw out ahead, +and now all I seemed to see was her slowly nearing rail; +twenty feet away, fifteen, ten. My rifle had been laid +aside, and I felt to see that my automatic was snugly +nested in its holster. Five feet, four, three—we were +about to touch! With a bound I cleared my shelter just +as the rails were within spanning distance, and vaulted +over.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A STRANGE FIND</h2> + + +<p>My feet had no more than touched the new deck when +I became electrified with a glorious feeling of possession, +of mastery. Immediately I seemed to know just what +to do, where to go; and my first move was another headlong +rush at the companionway door, bursting it in with +a kick and springing quickly aside—ready, listening; +being for the time shielded from a fusillade of expected +shots. And, because these were not forthcoming, I felt +momentarily confused.</p> + +<p>Yet in times of white hot action it is impulse that succeeds. +This door ahead of me was the only way below, +except perhaps a hatch, offering greater danger, somewhere +forward; it was the only way, therefore, through +which Sylvia might be brought up to safety. She was +now below, and I would reach her if it were my last +journey! Three bounds down the stairs took me into +the cabin, my pistol forward, my nerves on hair-trigger, +ready for anything that moved.</p> + +<p>Silence!—that sickish silence which permeates places +of death! No human sound could be detected—no sound +of any kind, except an uncanny creaking beneath the +floor where the old masts rested in their steps, and a +gentle swish of water outside the hull.</p> + +<p>There were two doors from the cabin, each opening +into a separate, though parallel, passageway that doubtless +led forward to about the same general arrangements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +we had on the <i>Whim</i>—one past three staterooms, through +a galley and into the sailors' quarters; the other, also +past a stateroom or two, but opening to the ice-box +room and galley. Both of these doors now swung +slightly ajar, at a suspicious angle that almost without +doubt told me where the men were crouched, and this +rendered my position so inexcusably exposed that swift +and vigorous action was the only choice. With finger +tightening on the trigger I dashed at the nearer of these, +giving it a kick that sent it banging against the wall. +The passageway was empty, and thus encouraged I +rushed the other door. Here, again, no foe had lain in +ambush.</p> + +<p>I was crouched now, sheltered by a strip of paneled +wall between the two doorways. The staterooms on one +side must come next, and after them the galley, with +the forecastle beyond, and even beyond this, perhaps, +some kind of a cuddy.</p> + +<p>Where the men were hiding God only knew, but hiding +they were with cocked weapons, firmly gripped +knives at some point of vantage that had been carefully +chosen—as they expected nothing less than half our +crew. I could almost feel their nearness; so alert were +my senses that I fancied I could smell their sweaty +clothes.</p> + +<p>Again action spelled success and, marking the first +stateroom, I bounded into it covering the interior with +a quick sweep of my automatic. Nothing! From this I +sprang to the second room, showing myself in the passageway +only long enough to cover the space. This, +also, was empty.</p> + +<p>A third was on this side before the galley should be +reached. By my tactics of quick rushes I had doubtless +made too fleeting a target to draw their fire, so I dashed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +at this third door. It was closed but yielded to my +shoulder. As I entered, and became instantaneously +aware that it contained no foe, my nerves were fired +by the sound of rushing feet behind me.</p> + +<p>Trapped! At such a time a man will ask an awful +price for his life—when he is trapped by merciless villains +to whom quarter is an unknown tongue! Springing +behind the door, keeping only my pistol hand and +eye beyond its thin partition, I waited with leveled +weapon, ready to drop the first man who came in sight. +He did not keep me long in suspense. It was Gates, +while behind him pressed several anxious faces.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, sir, you're not killed," he shouted.</p> + +<p>I was glad to see him, there's no denying it!</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thomas said he heard you call, so we came +a-biling, sir!"</p> + +<p>My mind was working rather fast; indeed, it seemed +to be thinking at the rate of a thousand miles a minute—clear +thinking, too—so even before Gates spoke the +second time I had seen through Tommy's ruse. Bless +his old scalp, I was a dog not to have taken him in the +first place, now that things were nearer equal. But I +said hastily:</p> + +<p>"Look sharp, Gates, I haven't been farther than here! +They're in the galley!—I'm rushing it!"</p> + +<p>So I splintered the door and charged through, with +the others tripping over my heels. Then my revolver +swung across and covered a crouching form.</p> + +<p>"Hands up," I commanded.</p> + +<p>Although darker here, we could see a huge, partially +clothed figure on the floor, reclining very much as The +Wounded Gladiator. Leaning above him, with an arm +passed beneath his shoulders, was another man.</p> + +<p>"Hands up, you fool," I called again, ready to fire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +at the first suspicious move. The man lowered his burden +and turned. It was Tommy.</p> + +<p>"You'll forgive me, Jack," he grinned. "We thought +I heard you call—and that was to be the signal, you +know!"</p> + +<p>We thought I heard you call!</p> + +<p>"I know about that, you prince of liars. Who's this? +But hold him!—we're going on through!"</p> + +<p>"You needn't," he said. "I took a speedy trip down +the other passageway while Gates went to you. There +isn't a soul on board, except this poor devil who's got a +crack on the bean."</p> + +<p>"It isn't possible," I cried. For, indeed, it was not +possible, and we hurried forward, leaving him as he was.</p> + +<p>But a two-minute search revealed the truth of Tommy's +words. There was not a sign of anyone. The +yacht was as absolutely deserted as if it had been sailed +by spirits—except, of course, the wretch in Tommy's +charge.</p> + +<p>"You're sure we've looked everywhere, Gates?" I +asked, stunned at the disappearance of Sylvia and mystified +by the whole affair.</p> + +<p>"Everywhere, sir. To tell the truth, Mr. Jack, a +minute ago it was as complete a mystery as I ever saw. +But I understand it now. They've taken to the small +boats and escaped, sir. They've just sailed in close to +shore and done that during the night, sir; and all morning +we've been chasing a boat with nobody on it. I +should have noticed the small boats gone, if I hadn't +been so sure the people were here."</p> + +<p>I leaned against the wall too utterly disappointed to +move, vaguely wondering if this were another dream +from which I should awake and find the <i>Orchid</i> sailing +out ahead of us. But it was no dream. In dreams one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +can not always know that one is dreaming, but there is +never a doubt of knowing when one is awake.</p> + +<p>"They couldn't be under the floor?" I asked, absurdly +clinging to a straw of hope that Sylvia might be there.</p> + +<p>"Lor' bless you, no, sir! I tell you, Mr. Jack, they +just sailed as close as they dared to those islands, and +skipped—the hull pack of 'em; first having headed the +<i>Orchid</i> out as we found her. That's why everything +was so quiet the larst part of the night—there warn't +anyone here to <i>make</i> a noise!"</p> + +<p>Passing back to the galley we saw half our crew, in a +circle, looking down at the wounded man.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Tommy?" I asked. "Not the old scoundrel +himself, by any good luck?"</p> + +<p>"Stranger yet," he said, waving the others back and +standing up, "It's your black giant of the Key West +docks!"</p> + +<p>"How the devil did he get here?" I cried, pushing +between the men and also looking down at him. "How +did he get here?" I asked again, but Tommy had gone.</p> + +<p>Someone had put a cushion under his head. His eyes +were open, gazing up with their former gentle expression; +more sad now, I fancied, since the great human +machine he had controlled was wounded.</p> + +<p>"How did he get here?" I repeated my general question, +this time straight at him.</p> + +<p>His lips moved with a curious, rather horrible, inarticulate +sound, and his glance swept our crew as +though in search of a face. Then he seemed to give it +up, and passed a hand slowly over his forehead. I was +about to order him carried on deck when Tommy called +through the galley portlight:</p> + +<p>"Fetch your wounded, Jack! The professor's here +with his outfit!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>As our men stooped to obey the big fellow surprised +us by quietly arising; and, when cushions had been arranged +in a shaded place above, he laid on them as obediently +as a docile mastiff. Monsieur, very much in his +element, became busy at once.</p> + +<p>The <i>Whim</i> and the <i>Orchid</i> were still at grips—or +rather were it more correct to say the <i>Orchid</i> was in the +<i>Whim's</i> grip. Lines had been passed through the chocks +of each, sails had been hauled down, and both yachts +rode inertly side by side.</p> + +<p>The part of our crew that had stayed behind to attend +these matters now came over the rail like monkeys, +grinning broadly and crowding up to shake hands with +me—a wholly uncalled for proceeding which charmed +me, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"Lie on your face," I heard Monsieur saying to the +big black. He had become excessively busy and his +fingers were feeling everywhere over the man's cranium, +yet as tenderly as a woman's. "What struck you?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"I've told you he can't talk," Tommy, who was also +kneeling by him, explained.</p> + +<p>"And I did not ask you," the professor snapped. +"What if he can not! May I not see him make the +effort?"</p> + +<p>"But what's the use of having the poor beggar make +the effort when you know he can't put it over? Why +not get down to cases and cure him, instead of monkeying?"</p> + +<p>"Down to cases! Cure him!" Monsieur sputtered. +"How great a surgeon are you to direct me in this +impertinent manner?"</p> + +<p>Really, he was quite a great deal put out.</p> + +<p>"You fellows cut it," I interposed. "While you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +squabbling the chap might click it, and then what?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not squabbling," Tommy looked up earnestly. +"I'm only saying it's a rotten shame to put a <i>blessé</i> +through a lot of unnecessary paces that hurt him, and +I stick to it! But go ahead, professor!"</p> + +<p>"I shall go ahead, have no fear of it! You think me +cruel—but see: if I am aware something is wrong with +a machine, how better to find out what than by trying +to make it run?"</p> + +<p>He turned again to his examination, while Tommy lit +a cigarette and sat nearby, looking on. At last Monsieur +gave a sigh, indicating that his diagnosis was +ready. I waited until he, too, had lit a cigarette, then +asked:</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor, how serious?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not serious, as there is no fracture. He +has suffered a concussion over the third frontal convolution, +resulting in an aphasia—aphemia we are sure +of, and doubtless also agraphia——"</p> + +<p>"Hold on! This isn't the University of Bucharest," +Tommy cried. "If you insist on telling us, instead of +putting this man to bed where he ought to be, tell it +nursery-fashion!"</p> + +<p>"Already I have said it for children," he witheringly +replied.</p> + +<p>"Then God help 'em!" This in a whisper from +Gates, but with no thought of levity.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead and cure the man," I implored. "We +couldn't understand you, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"But, yes, you will understand—I desire it! This +blow has produced the aphemia. If he were not illiterate +we could, by asking him to write, say if agraphia +also is present. But he can not write, therefore we do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +not know whether he can or not; so, therefore, we only +know that he can not speak."</p> + +<p>"You know he can't write, too—you just said so!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly, my boy Tommy, you have the correct idea. +Yet we do not know it by the test."</p> + +<p>"I begin to see what he's driving at, Jack. He knows +he can't write because it's a known fact, but he doesn't +know it by the scientifically known test known to him—and +that's agraphia. If it isn't, it's near enough. Now, +he knows he can talk because we all know he can, but +no one knows it at present because he can't—and that's +aphemia. Do I get you, Professor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, as you say, you get me. The motor area has +suffered a concussion; perhaps a slight hemorrhage, +perhaps not. It may pass in a few days, or longer. +We will keep him quiet, with ice bags to the head and +blood pressure low, and see what we shall see. A hundred +years ago they would have bled him and made +him well. But we shall see!"</p> + +<p>"If he'd got well a hundred years ago by being bled, +why not now?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"He'd be too old now," Tommy whispered; but the +professor, not hearing this, looked at me as though I +had committed an unpardonable breach of etiquette, and +again witheringly replied:</p> + +<p>"We have more advanced methods."</p> + +<p>Having thus been put in my place, he ordered his +patient taken aboard the <i>Whim</i> and ran ahead to superintend +the construction of a bed. Scientists are a curious +lot, Tommy says, but I doubt if there is another like +the professor. I hope not, for the sake of the sciences. +But let that pass. In half an hour the big black was +resting easily in the midst of paraphernalia especially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +designed, and Bilkins had been assigned the place as +nurse.</p> + +<p>I fancied, when this latter suggestion came up, that +our old servant might not readily take to it. With +twenty years of his life spent as major domo and general +valet in my father's household, a sudden transformation +into trained nurse for a dusky African must, +peradventure, have been a shock.</p> + +<p>But in this I was mistaken. The last forty hours of +common peril, of a central interest, had lifted Bilkins +from that pettiness usually burdensome in servants of +his type. He was, as a matter of fact, cheerfully alert +to take the job, accepting it with the same enthusiasm +that Gates, and later the mate, had straddled the bowsprit. +So I realized that Bilkins had doffed the uniform +of servitude to put on one that fit a man. True, indeed, +there is no such potent melting-pot as common peril! +It had been the same in France—banker, lawyer, merchant, +beggar-man, thief, perhaps—all one. Common +peril, common necessity!—O thou molders of men!</p> + +<p>When everything had been arranged, and a sailor put +at our ice machine to supply packs for the wounded +man's head, Tommy, the professor and I climbed back +aboard the <i>Orchid</i>, this time to give her a thorough +search. We held to the hope that there might be a +note, or little clue, from the girl whose extremity had +once led her to send the other message. Monsieur +thought this most probable, and our hopes ran high.</p> + +<p>Beginning with a writing desk in the cabin, we examined +the book shelves and every nook and corner, then +passed to the staterooms. These gave the same impression +of having been swept clean—cupboards, presses, all +were empty. Only in one drawer, delicately scented, +was there a single item—a hairpin. Here, then, must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +be Sylvia's room, but otherwise it was devoid of any +article. Equally unproductive did we find the galley, +the crew's quarters, and a small cuddy forward.</p> + +<p>Monsieur sat down and pursed his lips.</p> + +<p>"They have anticipated our intention," he said, +thoughtfully. "Doubtless the things were emptied into +sheets, then either weighted and sunk, or taken in the +boats. But she must have exerted her ingenuity. There +absolutely must be some word left for us. Wait!"</p> + +<p>Hurrying to the <i>Whim</i> he returned with his lens, +while from the mate he had borrowed a caliper, a two-foot +rule and a sail needle.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall search scientifically," he cried. "Remember, +that as no personal belonging remains, even +the books being gone, we must infer they made a great +effort to destroy everything that would leave a clue. +They suspected the girl, too, and that made them doubly +careful. What would she do then? Exactly as we +would do—hide her message so the others could not discover +it! Now, my boy Jack, you take the sail needle +and probe cushions, pillows and mattresses! My boy +Tommy, take my lens and look for places where the +glue has been disturbed on furniture joints; I will +measure the desk, piano, panels—everything—for a secret +hiding place!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be darned," Tommy grinned. "You're +some cop, professor!"</p> + +<p>When each of us had finished and reported failure, +Monsieur did not seem at all discouraged.</p> + +<p>"Now we go to the second phase," he said. "Keep in +mind, whenever you search for anything, that it may +be under your nose. That is the place to look, not off at +the clouds—and nothing is too insignificant to escape +investigation. For see: I can write on a very thin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +piece of paper, roll it into a string, thread it into a +bodkin, and weave it into a rug, curtain, quilt, and so +forth; or press it lengthwise into a crack in the floor. A +favorite way is to tie it to a real piece of string, and +throw them carelessly into a wastebasket, thus making +them appear to have been cut from a bundle. But +there are a thousand ways! Now we proceed with this. +Later we probe down gas jets, water spouts and outlets, +empty lamp reservoirs, unscrew the backs of mirrors, +search key holes, unravel carpets——"</p> + +<p>"Heavens," I cried, seeing that in his zeal for doing +this professionally he was making himself absurd; and +Tommy burst into a hearty laugh, saying:</p> + +<p>"Gezabo, there isn't a girl in a million who'd think +of those places, and if she did she wouldn't credit us +with enough sense to find 'em. Call off your bloodhounds! +There's no message for us, that's a cinch! +Let's get busy at once on something practical!"</p> + +<p>"That's what I say," I chipped in. "It's only eleven +o'clock, and we have eight good hours of daylight. Let's +go back and call Gates for a conference, without losing +a minute!"</p> + +<p>"You may be right," he sighed, "but—well, let us go, +as you say. With eight hours of light we can accomplish +everything. Today may bring success!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE HURRICANE</h2> + + +<p>Tommy's spirits were sky high. While treating our +situation seriously he found in every phase of it some +new sense of humor, whereas the professor looked on +with grim purpose. Gates occupied rather a neutral +ground, I think, perhaps alternately leaning one way +and the other. But I was gripped by a single idea, a +deep and growing love for this fugitive girl to whom I +had never spoken, who I did not know, but had sworn +to rescue.</p> + +<p>As we climbed back to the <i>Whim</i> and summoned +Gates it was understood that haste meant everything. +Yet we could not very well move before knowing whither +the outlaw crew had gone. That they made for Florida +was, of course, self-evident, but where upon that vast +stretch of coast? Would they entrench and wait? +Were they even now watching with binoculars from a +pine tree top to discover our next move, or had they +set out at once for the security of the Everglades, the +prairies, or the forests? Any of those trackless vastnesses +to the eastward might hide a battalion of men +for months; therefore, in case they had run, what hope +of finding them?</p> + +<p>These and other facts I put before my friends while +they listened in glum silence—indeed, with hardly a +move except the pipes carried mechanically to their lips +or down. Tommy's brier was empty, but his teeth were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +tight upon the stem and I saw the muscles of his jaws +working, as though grinding up my conclusions.</p> + +<p>"So that's how it stands," I said, at last. "Personally +I lean to the Ten Thousand Islands. Gates tells us +the location is unexplored; it offers ten thousand hiding +places and, in the circumstances, they couldn't ask for +anything better."</p> + +<p>Monsieur stretched back in his chair and blew out a +volume of smoke, adding:</p> + +<p>"It is the Islands, of course. And I think there is +little doubt what they did after landing. They did not +start inland. They feel secure where they are, and there +they will remain to watch us. It may also be their +lair, their home, for they must have a home ashore +somewhere! <i>Mon Capitaine</i>, you know with certainty +there is not a channel deep enough for our yacht?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of one," Gates answered. "Of +course, there might be; only I never heard of it."</p> + +<p>"If there were, why did they abandon the <i>Orchid</i>?" +Tommy asked.</p> + +<p>"It will bear looking into," the professor mused. +"Now, that paper with the dots and rambling line! +Could it represent a chart to their stronghold?"</p> + +<p>"From what I saw in it, as a sea-faring man," Gates +answered, "the bearings on that paper didn't tell +enough. No one could sail in new water without a +plainer chart than that. No, sir, if it means anything +at all, I'd say it meant something else."</p> + +<p>"We're wasting a lot of golden time here," I said. +"What if there is a channel, and what if the paper does +mark the entrance to it! That doesn't get us anywhere. +How could we tell which were the right two islands to go +between, when there're thousands of 'em on the water +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>and less than fifty on the paper, and not even a landmark +of any kind indicated! As Gates says, it isn't +plain enough."</p> + +<p>Monsieur seemed to be unconvinced, and Tommy began +to laugh at him, saying:</p> + +<p>"Gates would be an idiot to sail into a lot of treacherous +oyster bars guided by that poor excuse of a thing! +Sylvia drew it for a subterfuge, anyhow, not a chart. +I've got the right dope, so listen: Those crooks are +ashore watching us right now—it's a cinch they are, +because any of us, placed in their position, would be +doing the same. Now if we sail in and push things, +they'll run off and we couldn't find 'em again—probably +never. So let's divide our crew and sail both +yachts straight out across the Gulf—like we're going +home. Then they'll think we've given up the chase +and be off their guard. But when we get over the +horizon we'll make a circle back, and after dark anchor +in some cove north of this island area—if Gates knows +a good one. From that point, being well hid and unsuspected, +we'll conduct operations by land as we think +best. How about it?"</p> + +<p>It was the most sensible thing I could see, and said +so. The others quite enthusiastically agreed, and in a +few minutes the two yachts were sailing prettily westward. +Lower and lower sank the Ten Thousand Islands, +and sometime after we finished luncheon a sailor aloft +reported them gone. Then with a will we changed our +course and began the big circle back.</p> + +<p>Gates had been making observations. His chart showed +a cove about ten miles north of the island area, but +too shallow for the <i>Whim</i>. Yet ten miles farther north +of that was another inlet with fairly good water. Some +thought this would be the logical place to anchor, while +others insisted it was too far from operations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We might establish an outpost in the little cove," +I said, at last, "making a camp there and keeping the +launch with us, while the <i>Whim</i> stays in the larger cove +as a base to fall back on in case of necessity."</p> + +<p>"The launch won't do," Tommy corrected. "In a +quiet place like that its put-put could be heard for +miles. Paddles, oars or sails for these still waters, +Jack!"</p> + +<p>He was right. Moreover, one of our small boats did +have a center-board, thwart and portable mast, so that +obstacle was easily crossed.</p> + +<p>"Now," he continued, "I approve of Jack's plan, +and suggest that tonight we slip into Big Cove—hereinafter +to be so called—and anchor the <i>Orchid</i>. Then +with a whole crew we'll sail down outside of Little Cove, +land provisions, ammunition, and stuff like that for the +scouting party. After this the <i>Whim</i> goes back and +waits alongside the <i>Orchid</i>. The thing now is to decide +on signals. Who knows the Morse?"</p> + +<p>Gates answered promptly that he did; but I did not, +so Tommy wrote the alphabet on a card, saying:</p> + +<p>"You've this afternoon to memorize it, and tonight +I'll drill you. It'll do between ourselves, Jack, if we +get separated. But how shall we reach you, Gates? Have +you any black powder for smoke balls?"</p> + +<p>"Lor' bless you, sir, we've only what's in a few shells +belonging to Miss Nancy. It would take a fair sized +keg to signal that far, sir!"</p> + +<p>I will not recount the hours I walked back and forth +along the deck, with a flag in one hand and Tommy's +card in the other, making what to the uninitiated would +have seemed a perfectly ridiculous spectacle. But I had +got quite well along, and was standing near the foremast +wig-wagging a message to an imaginary pair of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +violet eyes—for man can be silly and serious at one and +the same time—when a little puff of hot air struck my +face. It was the second puff of this kind I had noticed. +Gates now came up and joined me.</p> + +<p>"There's a howl of something coming, sir," he said. +"I've had suspicions of it all day, but now the barometer's +touched bottom."</p> + +<p>"The sky's clear," I suggested.</p> + +<p>He laughed, though without humor.</p> + +<p>"A sky isn't always clear because there're no clouds +in it, Mr. Jack."</p> + +<p>"But what do you expect, Gates? We don't have +storms at this season!"</p> + +<p>"You're right, sir. But once in a long while there'll +be a howler, and that's what the barometer is trying to +tell us now. As we have only harf a crew on each yacht +I think we'd better make a bee-line in. 'Twill take us +twenty miles north of where we were, and those fellows +carn't see us."</p> + +<p>I never disputed conditions of weather with Gates, so +the course was changed and we started on our run to +land, which he thought might be reached by dark. In +this he was right, for as the sun, like a strangely weird +greenish ball, touched the horizon our prow, leading the +<i>Orchid</i> by half a mile, entered the protecting waters of +Big Cove.</p> + +<p>Just at this moment Bilkins dashed up from the cabin, +looking scared and yelling:</p> + +<p>"He won't stay quiet, sirs; I can't make him!"</p> + +<p>We would have thought a delirium had seized the +big black had not he then appeared from the same +doorway, regarding us with an air of rationality. I +have never seen a smile more broad, or more expressive +of relief. It simply radiated happiness, and Tommy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +staring at him, began to hum a song that had cheered +us many a time in the trenches.</p> + +<p>"By Jingo, Tommy," I cried, "we'll name him +that!"</p> + +<p>And thus he was christened Smiles—which, however, +through some fatuous process of fabrication so soon +grew to Smilax, that as Smilax he shall henceforth be +known.</p> + +<p>The frown of displeasure that had gathered on Monsieur's +brow fled as the fellow spoke. For he did speak, +telling in his own style that the concussion had been a +mere bagatelle, that his faculties had returned quite +unimpaired after their brief absence, and that he was +hungry but ready to serve us. What he did actually say +to express this—to which the professor would have devoted +five whole minutes of scientific phrasing—was:</p> + +<p>"Me well."</p> + +<p>Monsieur sprang forward and imperiously commanded +him to sit facing the western glow. He then +proceeded to squint closely into the patient fellow's +eyes, he felt of his head, his pulse, and looked at his +tongue. At last he stood back, pondering with an air +of deep solemnity.</p> + +<p>"It is true," he sighed. "The man is well."</p> + +<p>"You look like we ought to put the flag at half-mast," +I said. "What's the objection to a little +snicker?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," he murmured, ignoring this +flippancy, "how he got well so soon."</p> + +<p>"Of all the funereal old bugs!" Tommy began to +laugh at him. "If you ever doctored me, gezabo, and I +happened to recover, darned if I wouldn't turn around +and die out of pity for you! Come here, Smilax, I +want to ask some questions!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>The result of Tommy's probing showed that late the +previous afternoon, while this negro was fishing sponges, +the <i>Orchid</i> deliberately ran him down. She would not +have stopped, but luckily he grasped the bowsprit stays +and climbed aboard of her. Here he was met and roundly +cursed by angry men who were, for a while, at least, +in favor of throwing him back. He had seen the <i>Whim</i> +following. No, he had not seen a lady. Yes, he had +heard strange music that, with our shooting at them, +decided him to swim off to us during the night.</p> + +<p>To Tommy's further questioning we learned that he +knew nothing of the Ten Thousand Islands except +through hearsay. As to his wound the recital was +brief: he had been put to work wrapping up many +things in old sails; two men came into the galley and +stood by while he finished the last bundle, then one of +them who wore a cap like—he pointed to Gates—stepped +behind him, something crashed upon his head, and that +was all.</p> + +<p>Tommy drew in his breath with a sharp hiss, saying:</p> + +<p>"That's a cold blooded bunch!"</p> + +<p>"They're on those islands, sir," Gates cried. "I just +feel it!"</p> + +<p>The mate and his half of the crew had come aboard +after making the <i>Orchid</i> snug for whatever weather the +increasing sultriness portended, while Tommy took +Smilax forward to coach him in the manipulation of an +automatic revolver—for this modern arm puzzled the +big negro who was, however, nicely skilled in the use +of older models.</p> + +<p>That something brewed in the way of a storm did +not require a barometer or the eye of a seaman to determine, +so I insisted upon speeding up preparations +for the landing force. This met the approval of all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +since the skipper thought it likely that we could be put +ashore and the <i>Whim</i> get well on her way back to Big +Cove before the disturbance came.</p> + +<p>While we ate a hasty supper, therefore, Bilkins saw +that the things we should want were stored in the small +boat: food, ammunition, canvas for a lean-to, matches, +utensils of sundry kinds—in fact, the necessaries. He +had attended to my camping outfits before, and possessed +a genius for knowing what to include. Only when +this was under way, and the mate had thrice assured +Gates of his ability to navigate the <i>Whim</i> on her ticklish +course down the coast, did the old captain feel satisfied +to join us at table.</p> + +<p>He brought with him a large chart that he pinned +to the wall and, nodding to it as he tucked a napkin +under his chin, said:</p> + +<p>"You should take that, sir. It shows scarce more'n +the shore line, but the shore's where you'll be, and not +far inland. Here's Little Cove," he touched the spot +with his fork. "In harf an hour we'll lay outside it, +not being able to get in, and there we'll anchor to put +you off. Who'll you be taking with you, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Tommy and I thought we'd make a sort of reconnoissance +first, and Bilkins says he wants to go as cook," +I answered. "In a day or two, weather permitting, +we'll sail the small boat up to Big Cove for a council of +war."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he said, shaking his head, "just go slow, +that's all I arsk. Don't start anything. There's no use +two young fellows kicking up a racket without their +friends, that's what I say. So just poke around, but +keep out of sight; learn all you want, but don't start +anything. If you carn't learn it all, be satisfied with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +harf; then the rest of us will take that and make a whole +of it in no time. Am I right, Professor?"</p> + +<p>"You are right, <i>mon Capitaine</i>, if they will mind you. +But will they? A chance comes for to—what my boy +Tommy calls plug—that old sinner, and so they will +jump to a fight. Fight! Bah! How many fools give +a life for one who cannot give a reason!"</p> + +<p>"There's reason enough here," Tommy laughed. +"But we'll promise to be careful, if that satisfies you."</p> + +<p>When at last we dropped anchor half a mile outside +the entrance of Little Cove our deck became active. I +went off first with the supplies to choose a spot where +they should be stored, although in such a black night +this might have been left haphazard to the men. But +one never believes, on occasions so momentous as pitching +camp, that others know a jot about it but oneself—to +this there are practically no exceptions.</p> + +<p>While being rowed shoreward I noticed that the wind +had quite died down, leaving a suffocation in the air +that is difficult to explain; but I've felt something like +it on a sultry summer day when the sky is black with +slowly advancing clouds, when the birds have become +too awed to chirp and every leaf in the trees hangs motionless. +It is in these suspenses of unpleasant expectation, +when at any moment the heavens will open +with a hissing smash of fire and nature be turned to +fury, that one breathes heavily. There is no other +feeling like it, except the drag of torturing minutes +before being called to make a speech, or to be whistled +over the top into No Man's Land.</p> + +<p>Our prow grated on the sand and in silence we began +to unload. Back from the sloping beach grew a fringe +of small machineel trees and palms; the beach and they,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +as well as I could judge, forming a kind of amphitheater +to the water.</p> + +<p>My men wanted to raise the canvas into a make-shift +tent before returning for the second load, but I thought +better of this and had them leave it as it was, wrapped +about our guns and stowed with the other things beneath +the palms. Until daylight showed how well our +position might be screened from the islands, it were a +short sighted business to stretch a tell-tale piece of +white duck that could be seen for miles.</p> + +<p>Already there were eerie whisperings of some disturbance +in the sky. From the black forest far behind +us could be detected faint restless noises, as if a myriad +agitated spirits were scurrying hither and thither whipping +their wings against the branches. Something more +than an ordinary man's size blow was coming out of the +southeast, so I tumbled the crew into their boat, charging +them to pull right heartily and bring back Tommy, at +least, before too late.</p> + +<p>They must have got close to the <i>Whim</i> when a force, +as sudden as it was at the moment unexpected, almost +lifted me off my feet. Indeed, had I not possessed +the presence of mind to fall flat upon the beach I should +have gone kittering. In half a second the heavens were +cluttered not only with screaming and tumbling winds +but branches of large trees driven along as straws. I +dug my toes and fingers into the sand, flattening out +for dear life. Close upon the head of this hurricane +came the deluge of rain, cloudburst after cloudburst. +Then lightning was unchained, veritable shocks of fire, +and no thunder out of hell could have been more appalling.</p> + +<p>For perhaps a minute I had not been given a chance +to think of the small boat, or the <i>Whim</i>, but struggling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +to raise my head I stared through the inky space eagerly +awaiting the next flash. It came almost at once, bringing +into image the Cove as if a million green calcium +lights were focused there. This was but for an instant, +yet such is the peculiar effect of lightning that in the +following blackness each detail of the scene remained +photographed upon my retinæ. I saw the turbulent +waters apparently sweeping, as a mill race, out to sea; +I saw a lone palm, that had formerly stood in dignified +solitude upon a nearby point of land, now bent in the +wildest agony, its leafy top resembling an umbrella +turned inside out. I saw the <i>Whim</i>, greenish white in +a greenish foam, heeled over till her masts were all but +on the waves and her mainsail, half torn from its +boom, snapping in the wind. In this fashion she was +being driven at breakneck speed across the Gulf. I +thought—I tried to think—that I had seen a small boat +being dragged behind. Surely my men had reached +her!</p> + +<p>But another flash, and still another, brought no +greater assurance of this. Each showed the yacht +farther away, more blurred by rain, until the distance +became too great for me to make her out at all.</p> + +<p>And then another sky-splitting flame photographed a +sight that made my blood congeal. I got but an instantaneous +glimpse of it from the corner of my eye +before the world became wrapped again in darkness—but +something had been there, some huge, horrible +monster was rising out of the water and waddling +toward me. I had seen two long dripping arms, or +feelers, extending in my direction. Crouched, with my +nerves on fire, I waited. The rifles and revolvers were +wrapped in the canvas and could not be reached in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +time; there was nothing to do but wait till this thing +touched me.</p> + +<p>It seemed an age before the heavens split again, and +then I gave a yell wilder than the lashing rain, a yell +of joy; for, staggering up the beach was Smilax, true to +his name with a grin so broad that the greenish glare +flickered on his teeth.</p> + +<p>His sense of direction was either extremely acute or +he possessed the eyes of a cat, for in the following darkness +I felt a hand grasp my shoulder and push me toward +the trees. Obediently I yielded. Then above the storm +I heard him tearing leaves from the smaller palms until, +by overlapping them against some bushes so they +would be held by the wind, he constructed a lean-to—in +the circumstances a most creditable achievement—beneath +which I crawled.</p> + +<p>The rain drumming upon this shelter made conversation +an effort, but in half an hour the storm had all but +blown itself to pieces and then I let fly a string of +questions—the first being of our small boat.</p> + +<p>He told me, in his taciturn way, that her crew had +made safe just in time. As they scrambled aboard the +hurricane struck. The mate, knowing with laudatory +foresight that the masts were in danger of destruction, +had rushed forward and chopped the anchor cable. +Even that had not saved the mainsail from being torn +away.</p> + +<p>As to the fate of our yacht neither he nor I felt much +concern. I knew her to be a staunch craft, handled by +able seamen, and felt that she would come out on top +even if upon the coast of Mexico. Then, with a simplicity +that deeply touched me, he added that as she +was about to be blown off for an absence of, perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +some days, and he realized that I would be in need of +help, he dived overboard.</p> + +<p>"But," I cried, remembering the anger of that seething +water, "you took your life in your hands!"</p> + +<p>"Me swim all over," came his quiet reply; but +whether he meant all over the world, or all over as +might apply to his personal self, was left in doubt.</p> + +<p>Anyway, I do not believe there is another man living +who could have breasted that hurricane-lashed sea for +such a distance. I could judge something of what it cost +him by the way he had gasped for breath—and since +then I have seen him finish a fifteen-mile run, breathing +little faster than normally. This gives an idea of his +task that night, and the risk he took—and the indifference +with which he took it; yet about his stupendous +strength I can not write, but only marvel.</p> + +<p>Wet clothes are not conducive to sleep, but I was thoroughly +tired, healthily drowsy. There were more questions +to be asked, plans to be discussed, but my gods +descended; and, lo, when I looked again the sun was +shining in all its glory.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ON TO DEATH RIVER!</h2> + + +<p>Some day I shall write an ode, not to sleep but to the +pleasure of awaking when the sleep has been deep and +dreamless, when the day is ushered in by smiling skies, +a laughing earth, and a forest of joyous songsters. More +especially beautiful is the face of nature after a storm-swept +night, for then, indeed, the blinking dawn itself +reflects the gratitude of mundane things for their deliverance. +In the forest one hears a water-drip—aftermath +of rains; a gentle, almost noiseless fall of crystal drop +on crystal drop tapping the loamy soil, and imagination +sings in whatsoever key the soul is tuned.</p> + +<p>But with what reaches of farther imaginings do we +greet the day, and how variously! Our eyes do not +require a visual picture of the lone wild turkey on his +cypress roost to know that he is ruffling his feathers, +craning his neck inquisitively downward in all directions, +before chancing to descend to earth and breakfast; +nor need we see the panther skulking from his lair to +know that he has stopped to lick his paw and pass it +over his face—the feline morning ablution. Each +creature has a particular mode of resurrection after its +hours of mimic death; and so I, on a bed of whatsoever +it may be, yawn hideously and stretch my arms and +grumble: O, Lord, how I hate to get up! Indeed, how +variously do we greet the day!</p> + +<p>Smilax had opened our duffle and hung out several<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +things to air. But the provisions, ammunition, matches +and—glory be!—my tobacco, had been packed in tins +and were dry. I could not say as much for the clothes +I wore, and quickly stripped them off to hang before the +fire he was building.</p> + +<p>As these and the coffee pot were steaming I walked +to the beach and followed it to a westernmost point, +being curious to see if from there we could get a glimpse +of the islands, and also if our camp were securely hidden +from anyone passing the entrance of the Cove. Most of +all, of course, did I want to search the horizon, and for +several minutes stood beneath the solitary palm that +had resumed its majesty. So white was the sand, sloping +from a violet-tinted fringe of sea-grape stalks to the +lapping waves, so green and sparkling, yet so drowsy, +was the Gulf, that I could not realize, were my present +nudeness less constantly a reminder, that since the setting +sun these peaceful things had been lashed with a +devil's fury. No sail showed anywhere; only the palm +and I seemed to be alone in this balmy wilderness. But +my faith in Gates whispered that the <i>Whim</i> was safe. +Looking back, I realized also that our camp lay well +concealed; to the south the islands were cut off by an +opposite strip of land; eastward and northward +stretched primeval forests, swamps and prairies for half +a hundred miles. I seemed to be the only human animal +upon the earth.</p> + +<p>A hungry osprey circling in the sky dropped as a +plummet, struck the water and, after a momentary +struggle, arose with his fish, ingeniously holding it head-foremost +to facilitate flight. From another point now +came a scream, well known to me, and I turned to see +an eagle approaching with tremendous speed. Here +before my eyes was to be committed "an overt act of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +piracy" that has for untold centuries caused a strained +relationship between these birds. By feints at darting, +but with no real intention to harm, he drove the osprey +upward—for in aerial combats amongst the feathered +tribes advantage lies in the higher altitude, and the +hawk excitedly strove for this while the eagle coolly +permitted it. In such a manner the fight was carried +skyward until the combatants looked small. Then it +entered its second, and last, phase.</p> + +<p>Quite master of the situation the eagle now rose to +the upper plane and began his attack from above, whereupon +to save itself the hawk released its fish and took to +flight—which was, of course, exactly what the eagle +wished. Here was his opportunity for the spectacular. +Diving straight downward—first, however, increasing +his speed with two swift strokes of his powerful wings +which then became set in a half curve—he overtook the +falling breakfast in mid air, seized it, swung gracefully +outward and disappeared over the forest.</p> + +<p>Shame, thought I, that our National Bird, secure from +discovery at Washington, should be practising this thoroughly +un-American might-makes-right business! Yet +through my being came a sympathetic whisper. I had +never felt it while in contact with other people, but here +I was stripped as a savage—alone with the woods and +the ocean. If the Florida peninsula had been formed +when my ancestors went naked, one of them might have +loitered near this very spot, and I smiled as I wondered +if he, too, had been planning to carry off some female +from her watchful tribe!</p> + +<p>It was good to be in the wilderness, good to be savage, +good to be unclothed beneath God's high heaven and +know that by my muscle and my cunning I was king. +No ordinary king who went about with a jeweled crown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +upon his head could ever feel this exuberance of being, +and in pure delight I plunged into the water.</p> + +<p>Out, out and out I swam, joyously diving for handsfull +of shells that I held aloft as a pagan offering to the +gods. I put in bursts of speed, then rested on my back +upon the cradling waves, watching the streaks of feathery +clouds that stretched across the sky—streamers, flying +far behind the tempest. And then, with tingling +blood, I would flip my body and swim down, down for +more shells. I was King of the great out-of-doors; a +reincarnated primordial monster, holding high carnival +with the elements!</p> + +<p>Smilax, having come in search of me and seeing my +head far from shore, followed at once. It was then, +as he approached, that I received my first disillusionment +of being king by the right of muscle, because he +sped through the water as an oiled torpedo, putting to +shame my skill that had been somewhat thought of in +the Athletic Club tank at home. Almost immediately +followed my second jolt, as he glanced over his shoulder, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Lookout, maybe whole lot shark!"</p> + +<p>King or no king, I went shoreward like a scared cat. +Anyone could have had my crown then for the mere +trouble of picking it up. Curiously, there flashed into +my mind a game I used to play as a youngster: What-Would-You-Rather-Be-Eaten-Up-By! +We boys would +pompously answer lions, puffing ourselves out bravely +and pretending we didn't care, but I remembered one +little girl who aroused our contemptuous laughter by +answering "goldfish." And now, after all these years, +for the first time I found myself marveling at her +sagacity. Indeed, she was off and on in my thoughts +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>until I had clothed myself in dry garments and partaken +of a grown man's breakfast; after which I +dropped into a state of retrospective contentment, divided +between the annoyances that beset kings, Azurian +princesses, and the culinary skill of Smilax.</p> + +<p>That ebony giant of strength was not aware of my +mission here, nor, indeed, of anything that had passed +aboard the <i>Whim</i>, so when he had cleaned the dishes I +lit my pipe and called to him. It seemed but fair that +he should know the dangers of our expedition before +joining it. His perception was quicker than his speech, +and more than once he anticipated my narrative with +some word suitable to its climax.</p> + +<p>"We get lady," he said, at last.</p> + +<p>"After a while," I corrected. "Just now we're to +see where she is, how she's guarded, and how many +guards there are. But we're not to start anything till +the others get back. You don't happen to know this +country, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not right here; but two day walk there," he pointed +a little east of north, "yes, good. Mother live with +Seminole one time, over there."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were from Jamaica," I said; for, indeed, +we had got that impression.</p> + +<p>"No, me nigger raised by Seminoles. Been to Jamaica +on ship, heap time."</p> + +<p>"Then you speak Seminole?"</p> + +<p>"Some," he answered, modestly.</p> + +<p>I should have recognized in his way of talking, which +was neither Jamaica nor American negro, the Seminole +influence. Now this further light upon his past accounted +for the many ways he had shown himself a +woodsman; things that had astonished and pleased me, +since I had not looked for them in a seafaring man who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>later became a fisher of sponges. It brought me a feeling +of greater assurance for the task ahead of us, because +Smilax, with an Indian training added to his stupendous +strength, would be scout, warrior, pack-horse, +all in one; really, an invaluable asset.</p> + +<p>The chart that should have come in the second boat—with +Tommy, alas, and Bilkins—was missing, but I remembered +pretty well the lay of the land and knew that +the island area began only a short distance south of our +Cove. This I discussed with Smilax, who added light by +his general knowledge—hearsay, for the most part. Yet +when I suggested leaving our things cached where they +were while we made a reconnoissance, he strenuously +objected.</p> + +<p>"Lady maybe fifteen, twenty, mile 'way," he said. +"We take camp 'long."</p> + +<p>"That's very well if you take it," I laughed, "but +I've no idea of lugging that stuff half over Florida. +Why not carry the things we need?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe need all," he answered, then smiled: "Camp +light."</p> + +<p>At this he arose with a subtle power that reminded +me of a huge black leopard and began making our things +into a pack. Never had I seen, anywhere from Newfoundland +to the Rockies, a bundle of duffle more skillfully +arranged, and I said with no small degree of +admiration:</p> + +<p>"I'd take off my hat to you, Smilax, if the storm +hadn't blown it away!"</p> + +<p>He grinned, feeling the praise if not understanding +its medium; then asked:</p> + +<p>"We go now?"</p> + +<p>"Let's wait half an hour to see if the <i>Whim</i> comes in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>sight," I told him. "There's a lot to talk over, anyway, +before we start. For one thing, if we get separated +how shall we find each other?"</p> + +<p>"If you lose me, you hunt good place to wait, and +wait. Me find you."</p> + +<p>For some time we discussed other details. Finally I +asked:</p> + +<p>"How far down in those islands do you think they +are?"</p> + +<p>He was sitting with his knees drawn up, his arms +crossed upon them, and now let his forehead, too, rest +there in meditation.</p> + +<p>"One place," he slowly answered, "no white hunter +ever get. Injuns know it, but 'fraid to go 'cause evil +spirit live there—near mouth of river Seminole call +Il-lit; in white man tongue, mean Death. Me think +maybe find 'em there."</p> + +<p>"Death river's a good place for that old scoundrel to +hang out," I agreed. "How far?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe fifteen mile, maybe ten, maybe twenty; no +can say. We see."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Smilax, how do you say 'damn old +scoundrel' in Seminole?"</p> + +<p>He raised his head and appreciatively grinned, answering:</p> + +<p>"Hal-wak esta-had-kee, mean 'bad white man.'"</p> + +<p>"That's neither bad nor short enough. What else?"</p> + +<p>"Host-cope-e-taw, mean thief."</p> + +<p>"Good but too long. I want something I can remember; +to christen him, understand? What's your +shortest word?"</p> + +<p>"Shee."</p> + +<p>"That's more like it. What's 'shee' mean?"</p> + +<p>"Feathers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, hell, Smilax," I burst out laughing, "there'd +be no sense in calling him feathers!"</p> + +<p>"Efaw," he said again, "mean dog; kotee, toad; chesshe, +rat. Maybe him dog-toad-rat!"</p> + +<p>"That only begins to be him," I declared, with the +same glorious contempt for pronouns. "In the prospective +waters of Death river I christen him Efaw Kotee, +the dog-toad!"—But in my heart I offered an apology +to the canine family, many of whose sons and +daughters have been among my most loyal friends.</p> + +<p>"We go; maybe find him," the black giant grinned +again, bending backward to get his shoulders beneath +the ropes and then straightening up as though two, and +not two hundred, pounds of weight came with him.</p> + +<p>I walked quickly out to the point and took one more +look, a searching, lingering look across the green water. +Nowhere was the <i>Whim</i>, nowhere even a speck of sail +or any other craft. Except for a pelican of sober mien, +rising and falling with the waves, the Gulf seemed +barren of any life. But something told me that the +yacht was safe.</p> + +<p>A scrub jay, in a near-by thicket of mangroves, +mocked my solitude with a raucous note; yet it gave +me heart, for I saw in it the call of the land and knew +that thoughts of the <i>Whim</i> must be put aside. So I +went back to Smilax, and together we strode through +the fringe of palms into a shadowy jungle; our faces +set toward a mysterious place, unknown to us, where +Death river meets the sea.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SMILAX BRINGS NEWS</h2> + + +<p>Intuitively I dropped behind and walked at the +heels of Smilax who, as if he were treading a well-defined +trail instead of unknown jungle land, moved +with a free stride that challenged my endurance. Clinging +vines pulled at my clothes as things alive, causing +both noise and annoyance. Silence was a virtue on +our present expedition.</p> + +<p>After an hour of this we came to a cypress swamp, +and for several miles waded through water ankle-deep +although on a bottom of firm sand. Hardly any undergrowth +was here, but in all directions stood gray, dismal +cypress trees, coarsely buttressed at the water's edge +and tapering to slender tips. Draped in long streamers +of Spanish moss which were delicately swayed by an +almost imperceptible current of air, this was a ghoulish +place—suggesting a rookery for shrouded spirits +which perched along the bonelike branches awaiting +their resurrection. Here, too, upon some convenient +root of these gray ancients—perhaps the longest lived +of our southern trees—lay coiled the dozing moccasin. +And from this grim place we merged once more into +the jungle where my clothes again became the prey of +clawing things.</p> + +<p>But Smilax, never faltering, moved with the ease of +a shadow. At last, by watching him I, too, came to +learn his secret and was charmed to find that it made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +my pace both quiet and swift. Indeed, I took great +care to practice this silent trail walking—a knack that +can be acquired only by the closest observation; for a +hundred books could not teach a hundredth part as +much as a ten-mile hike at the heels of a trained woodsman +when he is trying to go noiselessly. Finally he +turned and looked at me, saying:</p> + +<p>"You do good now."</p> + +<p>Noon brought us to a higher country whose beauty +could not be surpassed. Dark and cool it was, even +dismal without bringing depression. The mid-day suns +of a hundred years must have been tempered to the +aisles of this wild cathedral by venerable specimens of +mahogany and black olive trees; and, where the +branches of these did not touch, rose the slenderer red +ironwood. The mahoganies, alone, stood as a proof +that we were entering a region which had escaped the +eyes of white man for—how long? It was even seventy +years ago that bands of wood pirates, known as +"the mahogany cutters," invaded southern Florida +from the Bahamas and ruthlessly pillaged this desirable +wood for foreign markets; so here, at least, was a spot +that had remained undiscovered, where perhaps a white +foot had never trod.</p> + +<p>Charmed as I was, a greater enchantment awaited, +when the next few steps brought me to a pool; a pool of +crystal transparency, though dark for reflecting the +black bowl of earth in which it lay. Without a ripple +it nestled close against the roots of a golden-fig tree—an +unfruitful parasitic giant of squat stature and tremendous +girth; while, pendant from one gnarled out-reaching +branch, and almost touching the mirror-like +surface into which it looked, hung a solitary streamer +of Spanish moss.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>One might have fancied that this pure water slept in +the tranquillity of being forever blessed by a gaunt old +friar, the gray sleeve of whose cowl hung from an arm +perpetually outstretched in silent benediction. Around +the bank, and leaning their purple flowers above the +more purple depths, grew a fringe of wild iris; while +sprinkled at random farther out were a few blooms of +"bonnet"—the yellow water-lily of southern ponds. +And then, in a darker nook, erect and motionless upon +one leg, a pink flamingo stood. I caught my breath in +amazement at the beauty of this place!</p> + +<p>To me it possessed a soul; and the soul, arms, that +were amorously held out, inviting, pleading. This was +the spot, and not by the green waves, to strip my mind +of culture, to tear a club from nature's forest and do +battle for existence! Here, in the very birthplace of +silence where I could smell the loam of untouched wilderness, +would be the haunt of my re-created, or pre-created, +self. Throughout the days I would hunt—and +slay; in the nights I would sleep among the branches. +But there would come dawns and sunsets when in some +corner of this wild temple I would raise a pagan altar, +light a tiny wish-wood flame, and conjure the forest's +soul of many arms to reach across the earth, bringing +me a living, breathing Psyche with iris-colored eyes to +gaze into the limpid pool!</p> + +<p>In the contemplation of such an Eden I had forgotten +Smilax, who now shattered my illusion by swinging +down the pack and saying, as he turned to me:</p> + +<p>"We eat."</p> + +<p>O, mundane worm, that he could think of food while +my spirit was communing with our common ancestor! +However, without much reluctance, I arrived at his +point of view when, filling my pipe, I stretched out to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +watch his savory preparations. And now to my surprise, +but increasing admiration for his woodcraft, he +raised a hand as I was about to strike the match.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he said. "Wind wrong; maybe some one +smell; me go see."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I protested, wanting to spare him +additional work after the amount he had already accomplished. +"I don't care about smoking."</p> + +<p>"Cook fire smell," he said, rather pityingly that I +should have overlooked this obvious fact. "Me go see; +get good wood." Then, grinning broadly, he added: +"Maybe Efaw Kotee somewhere."</p> + +<p>I knew that if he went for wood he must mean buttonwood, +because there was no end of other kinds about; +but buttonwood is the only fuel in Florida—dry mangrove +being a close second—that, burning slowly like +charcoal, is both very hot and smokeless, and he was +evidently taking no chances. I knew, too, that he would +have to go far toward the coast for it, since only on +tidewater shores may it be found; and with a pleasant +feeling of excitement I wondered if he would also bring +back news of—her; some sign, a thin line of smoke +above the trees! It was not the excitement of battle, +or a skirmish; no, it was the approaching reality of a +dream that had gripped me with soft fingers since the +moment I entered this forest. Since my eyes had rested +on that pool, my heart had called afresh for her. The +arms of the place were about me.</p> + +<p>Softly I arose and went back to it. The pink flamingo +was there, but as I approached, nearer this time, +he gave signs of uneasiness and at last clumsily took +wing for some other sanctuary where his solitude might +be untroubled by strange beings.</p> + +<p>Standing on the flowery bank, I looked deep into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +water. No fish, nor life of any kind, disturbed its sweet +serenity. So like her soul, I thought, was the soul of +this! Yet could her soul be undisturbed? Was it not, +indeed, turbulent with apprehensions? Did it—I asked +the question eagerly—did it sometimes hope that I +would come? And something in the water answered +yes. So I picked a blossom of the iris—that had taken +its color from her eyes—and put it carefully away. +By the spirit of her glance, by the unspoken message +of this place, I swore—oh, why put down here all I +swore? Men have stood beside solemn pools before, +and women, too. Those who commune in the woods +think more sublimely than they speak, so I can not +speak now, in written words, my immeasurable longing.</p> + +<p>Soon Smilax, grinning broadly, emerged from the +shadows.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "You smoke; me cook."</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything? How far did you go?" I +asked, and he answered in the curious way he had of +dealing with one question at a time.</p> + +<p>"No see signs of Efaw Kotee. Long way."</p> + +<p>While the combined aroma of bacon and coffee was +for the moment throwing its cloak of materialism about +the romance of my forest, I asked again:</p> + +<p>"Why are we heading so far inland, when they must +be somewhere along the coast?"</p> + +<p>"Best go this way. All right; you smoke."</p> + +<p>I was smoking, but that seemed to be his way of telling +me to put my mind at rest. Yet I persisted with +another question:</p> + +<p>"How do you know we haven't passed them already?"</p> + +<p>"Me know," he grinned. "All right; you smoke."</p> + +<p>He was a funny cuss, but I let it go at that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Biscuits, bacon and coffee might properly be called +the Woodsmen's Ambrosia, but it is not a feast over +which man is inclined to loiter, and Smilax was soon +re-wrapping the pack.</p> + +<p>Up to this time I had walked practically empty +handed, yet now I conscientiously rebelled, insisting +that a share of the load must rest upon my shoulders. +But here he showed himself as obdurate as a mule until, +arbitrarily, I strapped on our second automatic, took +out our second rifle, and filled my pockets with extra +cartridges. He raised no objection to this; he even +approved it. We were getting down into the Death +river country and ready fire-arms made agreeable companions. +Furthermore, at his direction I tied the rather +goodly supply of buttonwood into a bundle and swung +it to my back.</p> + +<p>Toward evening we saw on our left evidences of open +country and bore in that direction, for when one has +walked many hours in the shadows of interlocking +branches it is as natural to be drawn toward a spot of +sunlight as it would be to approach an open window +after having been confined in a dismal room. So we +bore in that direction and came to the edge of a vast +prairie stretching before us as a sea of lifeless grass.</p> + +<p>Except for a gray line on its horizon, marking, I +afterward learned, the boundary of the Great Cypress +Swamp, there was but a single break on this expansive +waste. That was a rich growth of trees about two +miles out, to the southeast of us; an oasis, it would have +been called in the Sahara, but in the Florida prairies +known as an "island." Whether this term of "island" +finds origin in the similarity of these verdant places to +real islands, seeming as they do to float upon an inland +sea of grass, or whether because, being of higher ground,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +they actually become islands during rainy seasons when +much of the prairie land is inundated, the native +"cracker" is unable to explain. At any rate, fanned +by the prairie breeze, they afford agreeable shelter +where, in perfect seclusion, one may look out upon the +surrounding country for great distances.</p> + +<p>"We camp there," Smilax nodded.</p> + +<p>"A good place," I affirmed.</p> + +<p>"You stay hide," he said again. "Me find out if +nobody 'round to see us go."</p> + +<p>"Why can't I look with you?" I asked, wanting to +study more of his methods, but he squelched me by +answering:</p> + +<p>"You look whole lot; no see anything."</p> + +<p>I would have given him a good piece of my mind had +he not suddenly disappeared; returning soon with his +usual smile and saying:</p> + +<p>"Come."</p> + +<p>Single file, as before, we pushed into the breast-high +grass, and the walking was easy. Once we crossed a +patch of oozy turf from which arose a score of jack-snipe; +again we skirted a drying pond whose boggy +edges were the hunting ground of marsh hens. Yet +other trails could be read here: deer, wildcat, raccoon, +and innumerable wee things. And here, too, around +the "bonnet" leaves, the silent moccasin lay coiled, so it +was well to step with caution in a place like this.</p> + +<p>A wound by the cotton-mouth moccasin, if treated +properly, may not result in death. Like other viperine +bites, however, it so affects the surrounding flesh that +blood poisoning may follow days after the first crisis has +been passed. Yet, even with this two-fold menace lurking +in its fangs, it is not the most feared of Florida +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>snakes. Preëminent in that capacity stands the diamond-back +rattler, largest of the world's venomous species +and second to none in point of deadliness. Smilax +insisted—on I do not know what authority—that more +dangerous than either of these is the beautiful little +coral snake, <i>elaps fulvius</i>, whose victim becomes ravingly +insane and invariably dies. That he possessed +some uncanny knowledge of the creature must be admitted +because of its close relationship to the Cobra-de-Capello, +of Asiatic fame, whose poison, we know, +flies directly to the nerve centers and almost entirely +ignores the tissue. Four days later I had good reason +to remember this.</p> + +<p>"Are there many snakes hereabouts?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Winter, not much; summer, heap."</p> + +<p>However, at that very moment he held his hand back +to stop me, then beckoned me forward.</p> + +<p>"Look!" He was pointing tensely ahead of us, moving +his arm leftward and indicating a circle of perhaps +thirty feet in diameter.</p> + +<p>Whatever it was, I could see the tops of the grass +shake as their stems were slightly jostled by this unknown +creature's progress, which continued with incredible +speed and was circling back toward us. Then, +with a slightly swishing sound as its body glided through +the dry grass, that friend of Florida woodsmen—the +king snake—passed before our feet like a brownish-green +streak.</p> + +<p>"Rattler! You watch!" Smilax whispered. His +eyes were wide with interest, for it is not permitted +many men to see a duel between these mortal enemies.</p> + +<p>Somewhere directly ahead of us a diamond-back rattlesnake +must have awaited the attack he sensed, though +we could not yet see him. Time after time the king +snake swept by in front of us, decreasing the circles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +and, I thought, increasing his speed. After each revolution +we stepped in a little nearer, being careful not +to interfere with his course nor distract his attention +from the serious business at hand.</p> + +<p>Soon the viper became visible. His flat head, elevated +a few inches above his heavy coil, turned anxiously +with the sounds in the grass. He knew what +was coming, I think, but did not rattle until the king +had reduced the circles about him to a diameter of six +or seven feet. Then he became electrified. The rattles +sounded viciously, and his head began an ominous swaying +motion, out and in, as he searched for a vital spot +at which to strike.</p> + +<p>The king, although keeping just outside the danger +line, was also watching for an opportunity. He may +have realized his immunity to poisons, yet did not care +unnecessarily to suffer the laceration of fangs. Rather +did he choose to rely upon the further protective gifts +that nature had given him: length and strength, speed +and agility, and a skin that blended elusively with +the ground colors; therefore, revolving in these smaller +circles, he seemed to make almost a continuous line, +without beginning or end, and the rattler was at a loss +to act. Now, profiting by a moment when the venomous +eyes were turned away, he darted in and caught the +viper close up behind its head. Wrapping himself about +the squirming body he ruthlessly straightened out. We +heard the vertebrae being torn until his victim lay +crushed and stretched into a helpless mass.</p> + +<p>For several minutes the sleek avenger remained perfectly +quiet. Then, uncoiling warily but not releasing +the hold with his teeth, he worked his body aside. Last +of all he dropped the head and drew suspiciously back +as if alert for a sign of life. Of course, there was none,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +and soon he glided into the grass, not seeming to have +noticed us at all.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" I said, taking a deep breath. "I wish we +had king snakes around us all the time!"</p> + +<p>"Heap good friend," Smilax grinned, stooping to cut +off the rattles that were large and perfect.</p> + +<p>"I thought you said there weren't any snakes out in +winter!"</p> + +<p>"Not much; maybe no see any for long time."</p> + +<p>He told me now as we proceeded across the prairie +that the Seminole Reservation lay about fifty miles +north of us, and I wondered what our chances would +be of getting a squad of "braves," should the <i>Whim</i> +not show up and we found ourselves on the eve of a +fight against rather big odds. It was worth keeping in +mind.</p> + +<p>The "island," when we reached it, was by far the +largest I had ever seen, and proved to be an ideal place +to camp. High pines and stately palms grew here in +great profusion, while there also might be found a +sprinkling of hardwoods; and yet in some parts there +was enough sunlight to permit the growth of really +luxurious grass, as trim as if it had been cut by the +hand of man. Smilax, pointing to a number of tracks +I had not observed, said the deer kept it short by grazing. +One's first impression here was of a well-kept park, +intersected by green avenues that stretched beneath the +best specimens of trees which a landscape architect had +carefully planned to leave standing. But there were +wilder portions; perhaps three acres of heavy jungle. +About midway, festooned with vines, was the pool I +had hoped to find, of quite good size and cool. It, like +the other that had entranced me, nourished a few stalks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +of iris, but there was no "bonnet" or other place on its +closely cropped bank for the wily moccasin.</p> + +<p>"My private bath," I declared, feeling at this sundown +hour the call strong within me.</p> + +<p>Smilax had remained behind. His reconnoissance as +we entered the prairie must be completed by another +as we emerged from it; and I had left him standing +behind the trees looking back across our trail, searching +for any distant movement. At last he came up, saying:</p> + +<p>"All right; you smoke."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to smoke," I laughed. "I want to +get in that pool, if we can find another supply of drinking +water."</p> + +<p>"No need um," he grinned. "Big spring come up +there," he pointed toward the farther end. "Me know +island now; been here one time."</p> + +<p>I afterwards saw that he referred to one of those +unique springs, occasionally to be found in Florida—a +transparent water of bluish tinge, bubbling up through +the bottom of its deep, self-made reservoir; keeping the +sand in a subdued state of agitation, and bringing pleasure +to the eye of man.</p> + +<p>By the spirit of Pan, my pool felt good after the long +day's hike!</p> + +<p>The wind had changed with the waning afternoon and +now blew gently from the southwest, promising a period +of fair weather. It gave us, also, the advantage of +greater freedom in noises; for, when living in the wild, +one comes to realize how potent a carrier, or muffler, +of noises is the wind. A fire at night, or smoke by +day, may be tempered with human ingenuity, but nature +bandies the sound waves with her breath.</p> + +<p>I dined in the elegance of simplicity, and Smilax extinguished +our small fire of buttonwood. Leaning my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +back against a stalwart pine, I watched the shadows +stealing through our avenue of trees. Somewhere above +my head a whistling owl, one of those lovable little +feathered cavaliers that showers his mate with unstinted +adulation, fluttered and courted. Later the mournful +call of a whooping crane floated across the prairie.</p> + +<p>I heard these things in a lazy, contented way, but my +thoughts were on another island—a real island surrounded +by water, where waves lapped the beach and +two eyes, that had given color to the iris, watched for +deliverance. Then with a jerk I sat up. Smilax had +turned his head to listen, and in his attitude dwelt a note +of agitation.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" I whispered; for surely I had heard +a sound that did not belong to these creatures living in +the forest about us.</p> + +<p>He raised his hand to caution silence. Then came +the sound again, slowly: one—two—three—four—</p> + +<p>"Axe," he said, his eyes shining as beads and his +finger pointing into the southwest from where the breeze +was coming. "You wait; me go see."</p> + +<p>"I'll go, too," I announced.</p> + +<p>"No; maybe make too much noise. Smilax go."</p> + +<p>"Who d'you suppose it is that close to us?" I excitedly +asked. "Not them, surely?"</p> + +<p>He looked at me with grave eyes and answered:</p> + +<p>"No can say; maybe hunters find way in here. You +smoke; me go see."</p> + +<p>Yet his sudden gravity left little doubt in my mind +of what, at least, he suspected; for he well knew that +hunters did not find their way into this unsurveyed +wilderness! Then, too, there was something in the stillness +of the night that seemed to portend great things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +The leaves transmitted their restlessness to my yawning +nerves, as iron dust springs to a magnet.</p> + +<p>Intending to wave good luck as he melted into the +darkness, without being observed I walked silently behind +him to the prairie's edge; but there he stopped, +opened his arms, raised his face to the sky, standing +motionless. And a great peace came over me, for I saw +that, in the simple way of the old-time Seminoles who +invariably turned to their Great Spirit on the eve of +hopes or fears or dangers, Smilax was praying.</p> + +<p>Religion is the poetry of the savages' existence. Alas, +that we are civilized! He does not spend his nights +poring over The Laws and The Prophets, and his days +peppering a neighbor across the head with a new-born +creed. No, he puts an abiding faith in some Great +Spirit, be it the sun, the moon, the stars; or fashioned +of stone, or clay, or wood. But his soul looks into the +Infinite as his physical sight, less far reaching, feasts +upon the Symbol. And what does he lose? He loses +the privilege of bickering with evangelists; he loses the +acid frequently to be found in church organization—the +feeling of pity or contempt of one denomination for +another, each of which stands upon the Holy Rock +searching for motes and waving a princely disregard to +beams. And, because he remains benighted and in +darkness, he also loses doubt; wherefore, as a trusting +child, he touches the hand of God.</p> + +<p>I had long since finished my second pipe when Smilax +returned. He came out of the darkness as he had gone +into it, with the stealth of a panther, and was close to +me before I knew it. But a striking change had taken +place in him. His breathing was fast, though not from +exertion, and pointing back he hurriedly whispered:</p> + +<p>"Efaw Kotee there! Lady, too! Me see!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<h2>EFAW KOTEE'S DEN</h2> + + +<p>Sylvia there! I bounded up as though some one had +sent a galvanic current through my body, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! How far, Smilax? Come quick, let's +go!"</p> + +<p>He answered each of my exclamations in sequence, a +peculiarity he had:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lord good. Two mile, maybe some more. +Plenty time, we go back soon."</p> + +<p>"But we couldn't have heard that axe two miles," I +said incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Still night, when wind on prairie right; yes, sometime."</p> + +<p>"How are they camped? How many are there? +Come, man, don't keep me waiting!"</p> + +<p>He drew himself up to full height and, with one arm +pointing toward the southwest, spoke deliberately as if +realizing his importance, seeming to choose his words—seeming, +rather, to grope for them.</p> + +<p>"Over there forest is little strip thick, maybe half +mile; then come water—Gulf. Me know um is Gulf; +taste and find um salt. Close by shore big island, close +by um little island. More island all 'round. Too dark +to see much, but Efaw Kotee live on big island. Many +cabin. On little island Lady live. One cabin. She +come to door and me get good look, for light in cabin. +Old woman live with her; Injun squaw; me know by +way she walk. Before day we go hide in good place on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +shore. Watch all day and see. Must watch all day, or +they see us if we leave 'fore dark. Now you smoke; +then we go 'sleep l'il while."</p> + +<p>Sleep! How could I sleep while she was within three +miles of me, surrounded by ten or a dozen devils the +combined virtues of whom would not fill a gnat's eye! +Of course, she had lived in this situation for years, but I +had not heard of it until very recently, and that makes a +world of difference.</p> + +<p>But after we got back to camp and I had stretched +out on my blanket to let the telescope of my fancies +pierce the realm of hopes, sleep did come. I would not +have believed it, but it did; for soon I realized that +some one was shaking my arm, while a voice said over +and over:</p> + +<p>"Time we go; time we go!"</p> + +<p>It was yet night when I opened my eyes, but Smilax +had lit a small buttonwood fire and breakfast was waiting. +While I stumbled to the pool to drive the cobwebs +from my brain he took the canteens and filled them at +the spring; for, in the all-day strain ahead of us—and +few things are more trying than to lie concealed and +watch from the gray of dawn till the black of night—we +should need a liberal supply of water.</p> + +<p>"Shall we take rifles?" I asked, when everything was +ready and each of us had our snack of food.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Too hard to crawl like snake. +They no see us to-day. We take l'il crack-crack."</p> + +<p>"Little crack-crack" meant an automatic revolver, +greatly admired by Smilax and, since Tommy's coaching, +handled by him with no mean skill. So I swung +one of these to the small of my back, into position when +we should begin crawling, and handed him the other; +whereupon, without further ado, we traversed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +"island" and melted into the prairie. Forty minutes +later Smilax moving slowly and cautiously ahead, entered +the narrow strip of forest. Another ten minutes, +and we got to our hands and knees. In this way we +proceeded perhaps a hundred yards when, putting his +lips close to my ear, he whispered:</p> + +<p>"We hide here; come still like snake."</p> + +<p>I put out my hand and felt the ragged edge of saw-palmetto, +then slipped in behind him, moving scarcely +more than a yard a minute. Heaven help us, I thought, +if we had to lie on that torturous stuff for fifteen hours! +But Smilax was equal to every occasion. When we +reached the far side of the patch, leaving only a fringe +of leaves to shield us from those we came to watch, he +worked a while with his hands, then whispered: "Now +lay down." Lo, the uncomfortable roots had been +pressed in other directions and the soft sand received +my body. He remained, however, long enough on his +knees to make sure that none of the fronds had been +twisted out of line, else uncompromising daylight might +show our enemy that all here was not right.</p> + +<p>The night remained very still and impenetrably black, +though I think that Smilax could see a little with his +extraordinary catlike sight. Then came a first sleepy +bird note. The day, at last, was on the wing!</p> + +<p>When from obscurity the saw-tooth stems took shape +before my eyes and the distance receded farther, I saw +that we were near the edge of a steep bank. Perhaps +twelve feet below us lay the water, as a mirror on which +some one has breathed. A mist hung over it—and in +that gossamer shroud a little island floated whereon my +Sylvia dwelt—where now she slept.</p> + +<p>A minute later the forest awoke with bird life; dawn +came rapidly. Islands took shape, trees stepped out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +from their obscurity and small details drew into focus. +First I sought her home and could hardly take my eyes +from it. Low and rambling, it stood two hundred feet +away, nestled in a most inviting shade of splendid trees. +Flowers and climbing vines were everywhere, touched +with the rich coloring of poinsettia and bougainvillea—although +this very approach of day began to close the +fragrant moon-flowers and spelled death to the night-blooming +cereus. The walls of her bungalow seemed to +be tinted red, varying to purple, which gave a strange +yet most pleasing effect in the setting of blossoms. Not +till later did I learn that this was the rare Cat's Claw +wood, nowhere to be found but in southern Florida.</p> + +<p>On the larger island, not over a hundred feet from +us, were perhaps ten buildings of about the same size +and plan, and presumably sleeping quarters. But in +their midst stood a structure of some pretensions that +we afterwards knew to be a dining hall. Quite off in +the background were two small bungalows whose air +denoted quality, but the roof of one had been fitted with +a skylight which gave me the impression that here Efaw +Kotee worked his trade at counterfeiting. Still beyond +this was a tower rising above the low trees, perhaps +intended for a lighthouse, although there had been no +light burning when we came. But these were at best +surmises that arranged themselves in my mind while +noting everything in sight and awaiting a further sign +of life.</p> + +<p>Soon a hinge squeaked. A man stepped from one of +the smaller huts, looked at the sky, yawned and +stretched. A second appeared from another hut, walked +away and came back with an armful of wood that he +took into the dining hall. As they passed there was +scarcely a nod of greeting. A surly pair, I thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +After this smoke issued from the chimney, and other +men, one by one from other huts, came dribbling out +into the day, until altogether we had counted seven. +The six now before us, after make-shift splashes in the +basins beside their doors, went as the chap with the +wood had gone; and shortly we heard sounds of knives +and forks rattling on china.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that a thin line of smoke arose +from the chimney of Sylvia's bungalow. Longingly I +watched it; tingling to my finger tips I blessed it. A +side door opened, but it was an Indian woman who +emerged with two pails and walked back of the house—doubtless +to a tank of rain water, because she returned +with them full and went in, taking care to close the +door softly. The deference of her manner, the affection +with which she apparently guarded her mistress' sleep, +strongly appealed to me, and I knew that the Indian +woman would be my friend.</p> + +<p>The next move came again from the dining hall when +a swarthy fellow emerged wiping his mouth upon his +sleeve. His hair was long and black, reaching below +his shoulders. With a rifle nested in the hollow of his +arm he disappeared toward the tower, and Smilax whispered:</p> + +<p>"Him Injun."</p> + +<p>Now to our surprise some one appeared to be looking +down from the tower, and a few minutes later the Indian +was seen above the mangroves climbing up to him. +There must have been strips spiked crosswise to one of +the uprights, making a kind of ladder.</p> + +<p>"So that's a watch tower," I said cautiously. "And +he makes eight."</p> + +<p>Smilax nodded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>The fellows talked a while, then the one who had been +relieved came down, going for his breakfast.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"No see him before," Smilax looked grave. "Maybe +one up in tree 'round here."</p> + +<p>"Gee, you think so?" It was not a comforting suggestion.</p> + +<p>"No, maybe not," he answered, after a moment of +thought. "They no look for us by land; all by water. +We all right. Look! Efaw Kotee have breakfast!"</p> + +<p>Two men left the dining hall, each bearing a tray of +food, and we watched until they entered the rather exclusive +house next to the work shop. This without doubt +was the old scoundrel's headquarters, but why did he +have two trays? Could by any chance Sylvia be kept +beneath the same roof with him? Had Smilax been +mistaken? The weight of my automatic felt good just +then.</p> + +<p>When they came out, empty handed, one turned toward +the watch tower but the other went for still a +third tray. This, which he carried with an air of deference, +was covered by a white cloth. He came to the +boats across from us and got into a punt, balancing his +tray across the bow while he paddled, standing, toward +the little island. Now I became more than ever tense, +and perhaps I moved, for Smilax pressed my arm in +caution.</p> + +<p>As the punt touched at the landing platform below +Sylvia's house the fellow did not get out, but gave the +call of an ibis—a weird, beautifully mystic call that is +rarely heard and almost impossible to imitate. Smilax +appreciated this, for he grunted: "Good."</p> + +<p>The door opened and the Indian woman looked out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hey, there, Echochee," he said. "I got a present +from the boss."</p> + +<p>She slammed the door, and I do not know when in my +life I was ever so charmed by this simple act.</p> + +<p>"Then you go to hell," he drawled. "But I tell yer +this: the boss said if no one come down to git it, for me +to leave it in yer parler."</p> + +<p>While Echochee had slammed the door she was evidently +listening; for now she came out again, a picture +of fury, crying:</p> + +<p>"Don't you put foot here!"</p> + +<p>"Then come an' git it," he carelessly replied.</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Lay um down, then go back. Me get um."</p> + +<p>"Naw, old hatchet-face. Jest come on down an' git it +yer own se'f, or I'll bring it up."</p> + +<p>"My Lady no let any one come here," she warned. +"You go back quick!"</p> + +<p>"That's all right 'bout yer Lady, but the boss says +fer me to hand this right in myse'f, an' what the boss +says—goes! Yer git that, don't yer? So come on +down an' git this, an' that'll make two things yer git," +he laughed boisterously, adding: "It's a weddin' present, +an' if yer don't git a move on maybe the boss'll +come his own se'f!"</p> + +<p>I could see from the woman's face that she was in a +towering rage, but she went—lithely as a girl, for all her +years—to the landing.</p> + +<p>"That's what I call sense, old hatchet-face," he +sneered, stepping gingerly over the seat—for a punt is +a tippy thing—and holding the tray out to her.</p> + +<p>With a snarl she jerked it from his hands, raised it +quickly and brought it down on his head. Of course, +the cloth and everything beneath it went scattering to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +the winds, while he tumbled backward into the water. +Not content, she picked up several of the various fruits +the tray had held and began to pepper him with such +good aim that he hastily and profanely splashed back +to the other shore. Then the tray, its cover, and the +spilled fruits not already used in the form of ammunition, +were contemptuously tossed in his direction. After +this she tied the punt as though nothing had happened, +went back into the house and closed the door. Smilax +was shaking with silent delight.</p> + +<p>"Bully," I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Good," he said. "Look—water not much deep. +We 'member that." Though at the time I did not see +how this held any advantage for us, being distinctly of +less protection for Sylvia.</p> + +<p>The man dragged himself up the oozy bank, cursing +roundly, and started post-haste for Efaw Kotee's bungalow. +We could hear the water sloshing in his shoes, +and knew that he was quite as uncomfortable in mind +as in body. He did not go upon the porch, but stood +below, hat in hand, calling. Then I saw the old chief—the +same man who had paid his supper check with a new +fifty-dollar bill. Smilax squeezed my arm, saying:</p> + +<p>"Him boss on yacht."</p> + +<p>I felt well satisfied at this identification, which was +the first definite assurance that the owner of the <i>Orchid</i> +and my neighbor in the café were one and the same. +He came out scowling, listened unmoved to the fellow's +recital and turned back without a word, while the aggrieved +one walked sulkily to his quarters.</p> + +<p>But soon Efaw Kotee reappeared, this time with another +man, and Smilax became excited.</p> + +<p>"Look," he whispered. "Him name Jess. Him bust +Smilax head!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the fellow who had drawn back when Tommy +and Monsieur went to the gambling rooms, but now +without his uniform he seemed coarser and more cruel.</p> + +<p>"That makes ten, all told," I whispered.</p> + +<p>"Whole lot," was the black's only comment.</p> + +<p>They came slowly, talking in low tones. At the water's +edge across from us they halted and Jess, pointing +to the punt, said something whereupon the older man's +face turned dark with anger.</p> + +<p>"Echochee!" he called.</p> + +<p>No answer; the door of Sylvia's dwelling remained +closed.</p> + +<p>"Echochee," he called again, and his voice grated +hatefully on my nerves, "bring that punt over here!"</p> + +<p>Then the door did open, I thought reluctantly, and +the Indian woman came out.</p> + +<p>"What you want?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Say: 'What you want, <i>Master</i>!'" he yelled at her.</p> + +<p>"Why I say that?" she asked, a dull fire of hatred +kindling in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Because it's so," he thundered, stamping the ground +in fury while his palsied head shook more noticeably.</p> + +<p>"You lie," she replied. "You no master of my Lady +or me, any more. We go to Great Spirit any time +now."</p> + +<p>A chill ran over me. What, in God's name, did she +mean? Was Sylvia dying? Again Smilax touched my +arm to caution prudence.</p> + +<p>Efaw Kotee was, I think, trying to control himself, +yet his long arms and veiny hands were swinging, pendulum-like, +to and fro across his body. It was an uncanny +indication of anger, suggesting rather a beast +than a human being. The captain was standing silent, +with his arms folded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Echochee," said the chief, "bring us that punt. +We must see your Lady."</p> + +<p>"My Lady see no one."</p> + +<p>"I want that punt," he bellowed at her.</p> + +<p>"You got plenty punt; me go in house," she replied +stoically.</p> + +<p>There were, indeed, three or four punts tied to the +shore near by.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, there," he commanded, "or it'll go bad for +you! I want that punt, there, understand?"</p> + +<p>"Then get that punt there," she said indifferently.</p> + +<p>"You damned old hag," he screamed, now quite beside +himself, "one of your rotten tribe's in that lookout +tower, d'you understand? If you don't bring that punt +across I'll have him crucified before your eyes! Hear +me, hag?"</p> + +<p>"All right," she said quietly. "Him no 'count; do +him good."</p> + +<p>She turned back to pass through the door, but was +stopped by some one coming out. Sylvia! Never more +beautiful than now! Echochee put up both arms to +stop her and I noticed—for in tense moments one's +eyes retain some of the most insignificant details—how +incongruously her brown old bony fingers sank into +the dainty folds of her lady's morning gown. But Sylvia +would not be stopped. She placed a hand on the +woman's shoulder and spoke a few hurried words, then +raised her head and looked imperiously at the men, +saying:</p> + +<p>"You shan't hurt any one because Echochee obeys +me. Is the punt all you want?"</p> + +<p>Jess moved uneasily, but there was no trace of embarrassment +in the bearing of Efaw Kotee.</p> + +<p>"No, it's not! We want to cross to you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No one comes on this island," she said.</p> + +<p>"I've had enough of your nonsense," the old fellow +cried. "I believe yet you steered that bunch of pups +after us, in spite of hell I believe it; but, whether you +did or didn't, I've had enough of bowing and scraping +like a nigger, and begging to be allowed to go over there! +Enough, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Then don't try any more," she indifferently replied, +turning to go in; but he checked her with another threat—and +by the way she flinched I knew that he meant it.</p> + +<p>"If you go in that door till I'm through," he bellowed, +"that crucifying comes off in ten minutes—right +on this spot where you can hear the beggar squeal!"</p> + +<p>She stopped and looked at him, and I realized that +we had come in the nick of time for some great crisis +which was enveloping her.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here," he continued, in a calmer voice, +"you've kept this up since yesterday morning, and it's +unreasonable. Why don't you let us come over and +have a talk? I've been a good father to you! You've +had everything you want—and just bought six trunks +full of clothes in Havana last week! Why do you keep +us—keep me—away?"</p> + +<p>While absorbedly listening, I was struck by the oddity +of a girl in this wilderness buying six trunks full +of clothes; but it then occurred to me that Efaw Kotee +would encourage extravagant buying of all things, when +the <i>Orchid</i> visited a city, in order that he might get +bona fide change for his spurious bills. At least there +was good reason for her gown to be modern, smart, and +becoming, as Havana's best Americanized shops are +quite continental.</p> + +<p>"I keep you away," she answered icily, "because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +you're planning to marry me to an unprincipled scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"A what?" Jess yelled.</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" the old one snapped at him.</p> + +<p>"An unprincipled scoundrel," she answered evenly, +"who's as loathsome as an ape. And I shan't be married +to that kind of thing, or any one else. You've had +my warning. If you, or he, or any of your beastly men +come to this island, you'll get only my dead body. And +Echochee, dear soul, is going with me. What's more, if +you start any tortures, we'll die before witnessing +them."</p> + +<p>"Then, by God," he screamed, "you and your +damned hag'll begin to starve from this day! With no +more provisions sent over we'll see who obeys me! +And in three more days if you don't come to your senses +I'll crucify an offering to your dead body—head down +on the spot I stand!" He had been raving, but now +his tone quickly changed to one of whining entreaty, +as he added: "I hope you understand how it pains +your dear old father to threaten you, my child!"</p> + +<p>It was so maudlin an exhibition that I wondered if +he were sane.</p> + +<p>"Dear old father," she repeated, giving a short laugh +of contempt.</p> + +<p>I did not know how much of this was real and how +much acting on her part, although it did seem genuine +enough when she could not be looking for relief. Yet, +as she stood there calmly mistress of herself while Efaw +Kotee writhed beneath her scorn, I was reminded of an +angler who had hooked an ungainly fish—she with intellect +at one end, he at the other representing brute +strength, fear, cunning; both connected by a barely +visible thread that in this case was not a line, but Fate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +For another moment she let him writhe, then turned and +went in.</p> + +<p>Jess laughed.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, you clown," the old chief turned on him.</p> + +<p>"Clown yourself," the captain snarled. "I'll have +you know I won't take any of your lip!"</p> + +<p>"Then I back out of our bargain, that's all!"</p> + +<p>"If you say that again I'll twist off your palsied head +with these two hands," Jess held them under Efaw +Kotee's nose and wriggled his fingers, until the old man +shrank back, cowering. "The men'll follow me when +I tell 'em you play double, an' you know it! You +swine, I'm sick of this place! I'm going to take my +share of the stuff, an' the girl, an' clear out! It's been +fifteen years since we raised these cabins—more'n that! +An' what have we got? Plenty of the slickest money +ever printed—an' the other stuff, too—an' you afraid +to take a chance. Three times I've stopped a mutiny +for you, an' you'd be dead an' buried if I hadn't. Then +came this last when things went wrong. You say the +girl peached, but 'tween you an' me I say you tried to +turn State's evidence—don't deny anything," he held +up his hand when the other would have interrupted. +"That's passed now. But I've agreed to forget it, to +keep the mutinies stopped for keeps—by marrying the +girl. You agreed, too. Now you talk of backing out. +Is killing too good for you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to, Jess; I don't, honest," Efaw Kotee +said, with a whine. "But you see yourself how she is! +If we rush the place, day or night, she'll kill herself. +Tell me what to do, and I'll do it!"</p> + +<p>"You've done about all you can for a while," Jess +grumbled, adding: "If she don't run away."</p> + +<p>"Where'd she run to?" the other sneered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, some kind friend might show her!"</p> + +<p>"You're crazy," the chief contemptuously exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Crazy or not, you just see that she doesn't. Then, +if starving three days doesn't bring her, maybe crucifying +<i>you</i> head down might do the trick."</p> + +<p>"Wha—what d'you mean?" The old fellow sprang +around and stared at him, seeming to have grown hollow +and gray.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," Jess grinned. "Just a little idea I +had—worth keeping in mind, though. It might be +healthy for you to see she can't run off, that's all."</p> + +<p>Efaw Kotee looked at the captain suspiciously, and +said:</p> + +<p>"I'll guarantee she doesn't run off—and your other +little ideas aren't pleasant. Let's go back and have a +drink."</p> + +<p>When they had entered the bungalow a silence fell +over the settlement. I did not see a man anywhere. +But I drew a long breath of relief because Sylvia was +for a little while safe, even while I raged at the realization +of her danger. My body was cramped, and cautiously +I stretched my legs. Smilax had not moved.</p> + +<p>"It looks like we got here just in time," I whispered. +"But what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>He relaxed then, and slowly answered:</p> + +<p>"Me think 'while. Echochee good old woman; always +kind to l'il black boy."</p> + +<p>"You know her?" I could hardly have hoped for +that stroke of luck.</p> + +<p>"Me know all Seminole; not many left. 'Echochee' +mean what white man say 'li'l deer.' She old woman +when me l'il black boy in Reservation. Me think 'while; +you, too."</p> + +<p>Schemes of every wild kind, daring and impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +plans of rescue, raced through my brain; seeming reasonable +enough at the time, but Smilax quickly found +the flaws in each until I had exhausted my supply. +Finally he spoke, and I knew that he spoke with judgment.</p> + +<p>"To-night," he said, "we watch and see if they put +out guard. Maybe they do, after what Jess said 'bout +Lady run off. When dark come, me swim to l'il island +and give owl call—two times, then stop soft in middle. +Long 'go in Injun village that mean: 'panther, come +quick, gun,' Echochee will hear and 'member. Good. +Then we talk and fix all up. First we see if Efaw Kotee +put out guard."</p> + +<p>This was so different, so tame, to the brilliant, suicidal +dashes into the thick of rescue and glory—and +doubtless destruction—as my plans ran, that I almost +felt ashamed. Smilax could neither read nor write; his +vocabulary might have been held in the hollow of one's +hand, but in many respects he was the sanest creature I +ever met.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose Echochee will trust us to get them +away?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"If Lady say come, she come," he answered.</p> + +<p>This set me thinking, and I decided to write a note +that Smilax could deliver. Sylvia might then feel assured +that she was not being abducted by a negro whom +Echochee had known only in childhood. But, on second +thought, I wondered if she would risk escape with an +unknown white man; if she would not rather face the +supreme issue, once and for all, than perhaps be forced +into it later by an over-zealous stranger! In her distracted +state of mind I feared she would find the rescue +too precarious—too easily offering the same danger that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>beset her now, and lacking her present weapon of defense. +Yet if she refused to come—what then? I could +always rush the camp, if but to die with her. Having +gone over these possibilities, I whispered to Smilax:</p> + +<p>"She'll come easier if she doesn't know I'm here. +Echochee will remember you, and reassure her. You +might tell Echochee that you were hunting this way +and saw her beat the chap over the head with the tray. +Understand? After that you saw the rest and realized +how much trouble she was in. How about it?"</p> + +<p>"Good," he grunted. "That good. To-night me +tell Echochee get ready, and to-morrow night we run +'way—maybe to Reservation. But we come by camp +and find you; then all work 'round to yacht. Good."</p> + +<p>"Well," I demurred, "that isn't the way I meant, +for I intend to stay here and help. Some of those devils +might get busy!"</p> + +<p>"That good, too. Now we eat; then you go sleep."</p> + +<p>While tackling our rations we discussed the plan again +and again. I did not want to leave Sylvia another +night within the grasp of those fiends, but Smilax insisted; +explaining that she was practically safe for +three days, at any rate. Of course, each twenty-four +hours would make her and Echochee weaker from starvation +and, as they would need strength, we dared not +wait too long. Immediate help from the <i>Whim</i> was all +but a forlorn hope. The rescue had come suddenly up +to us, and it must be met without a thought of failure.</p> + +<p>But as the tiresome afternoon wore on without further +incidents to keep us aroused, my fancies drifted +from rescues to the rescued; and after a while I whispered:</p> + +<p>"I'll take that nap now,"—scarcely hearing him reply:</p> + +<p>"Good."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE CAVE MAN SETS FORTH</h2> + + +<p>Close to my ear I heard a warning: "Sh!"—at the +same time feeling a hand squeeze my arm. It was dusk. +While I slept the shadows had lengthened and blended +into those soft gray tones of twilight that give mystery +to forests of the South. Cautiously I raised my head +and, following the tense stare of Smilax, saw the cause +of his agitation.</p> + +<p>Three men were standing on the larger island, at the +spot where Efaw Kotee and Jess had stood, and one held +a piece of coiled rope tied to a grappling hook. They +were whispering and chuckling. Then he with the iron +hook began to swing it back and forth, finally letting +it fly across the water into the punt, whereupon they +chuckled again. Now they began to haul in the line at +a lively rate, doubtless fearing that Echochee, aroused +by the noise, would rush out and frustrate them. But +the house remained quiet, even dark; and, since the +boat's painter was of slim material, there could be only +one result when they gave a hard pull—the punt was +theirs.</p> + +<p>This procedure disturbed Smilax, no less myself. +There was deviltry afoot, yet hardly a plan for capturing +the girl as other punts were available. But the +next moment we breathed easier, for the men broke into +a boisterous laugh, and one called:</p> + +<p>"Ole hatchet-face, yo're done out-punted this time!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Another, bending over and slapping his thigh in +mirthful ecstasy, guffawed:</p> + +<p>"Bill says she's done out-<i>punted</i>," whereupon they +again laughed, and a third called:</p> + +<p>"This here busts yo' chance of makin' a git-away to-night, +yer ole she-devil! The chief's on to yer, he is!"</p> + +<p>"They expect an escape," I whispered.</p> + +<p>Smilax nodded. His face was grave.</p> + +<p>Then came a most exasperating moment, when I +hugged the ground so close that my body felt no +thicker than a playing card. The men, each picking +up a rifle, stepped into the punt and paddled to our +side. Two of them climbed the bank, one going about +a hundred yards to our left, and the other, passing +within ten feet of us, went the opposite way. We could +not follow him with our eyes but knew, by counting his +steps, that he stopped at about an equal distance. Then +the punt glided back and disappeared behind the little +island. Guards! Sentinels! We were trapped, as +well as those whom we had come to save!</p> + +<p>The firm fingers of Smilax had never left my arm, a +continuous caution for silence that I minded well. Ten +minutes passed, and the trees had all but lost their +shapes. In another ten minutes the night wholly enveloped +us, and then the black man moved so that his lips +were at my ear, while he barely whispered:</p> + +<p>"Me go; noise in camp will help. You wait still like +dead; me come back soon."</p> + +<p>I did not attempt to answer, for there was nothing to +say. Flanked by the two sentinels, I was pretty sure +to wait, and wait like dead, too. He began to move +then, yet he did not seem to move. But as I watched—more +with my senses than my eyes—I knew that he had +worked his head and shoulders out of our shelter, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +was edging himself along at the rate of perhaps a foot +a minute. Soon I realized that he had entirely gone; +that, free of the saw-palmetto—a most difficult stuff in +which to move silently—he was topping the bank. I +could imagine how he glided now, alligator fashion, +head downward to the water; and I could almost feel +the moment he slid noiselessly into it. I waited for the +owl call—"two times, then stop soft in middle."</p> + +<p>And now an electric torch flashed where the sentry +on my right was posted, and I froze, wondering if it +were directed at Smilax. But no challenge came. In a +very short interval it flashed again, and the fellow +called in military style:</p> + +<p>"Post one, seven o'clock, and all's well!"</p> + +<p>The voice at my left took it up:</p> + +<p>"Post two, seven o'clock, and all's well!"</p> + +<p>From somewhere beyond Sylvia's island the third +guard called post three, and silence followed. I was +glad to find that they called their posts. It told us +that there were only three, and gave a very fair idea +of their positions. Of course, we could not hope, with +this military precaution, to have one of them fall asleep +at a convenient moment. Especially would this not +happen with a newly placed guard—and these fellows +were on watch to-night for the first time, else we would +have seen them, or they us, when we came that morning. +Smilax, also, would have discovered them the +night before. Sylvia and Echochee, therefore, had just +come under suspicion of intending to escape—and we +were in the nick of time, although I felt staggered by +the job ahead of us.</p> + +<p>After another wait the fellow at post one again flashed +his torch—on his watch, no doubt, because from time to +time there were other flashes and, after the last of these,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +he called half-past seven. That was good for us, too—the +half hours! Eight o'clock came, then half after, +then nine. The lights in the camp had been extinguished. +A real owl hooted mournfully somewhere +back in the forest. I was waiting for post one to be +called again when a voice, not twelve inches from my +face, whispered:</p> + +<p>"All right; come; slow like me. When you think +you can no go more slow, then go two times as slow."</p> + +<p>Had it not been for that last piece of advice I might +have made a mess of things, but by moving at first +scarcely more than an inch a minute, by distributing my +feeling sense to every part of my body, detecting the +slightest pull at my clothing, the merest contact with +any little twig that might traitorously snap—in fact, by +almost wishing myself along—I came at last free of the +palmettoes and lay beside him. From there our progress +was easier, and shortly we got to our hands and +knees.</p> + +<p>After following in this manner for two hundred yards +Smilax stopped and sat down.</p> + +<p>"You do good," he said. "Wait; me go back."</p> + +<p>"What for?" I asked, in surprise. "Tell me what +Echochee said?"</p> + +<p>"After 'while," he answered. "Me go fix pine +needles where we crawl out; then take look at all's-well-men. +You wait."</p> + +<p>I should never have thought about obliterating our +trail in the pine needles, yet now saw that it was a +very necessary thing to do, for men can not crawl on +their stomachs without mussing the ground if it is at +all soft. In the morning those fellows would see our +tracks leading from the palmetto patch and, to a certainty, +be waiting for us when we returned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was back sooner than I expected, and we took a +good swinging pace to camp. Not till he had made a +mere handful of fire and warmed over some coffee (gods +of good things, how delicious it was!) and I had lighted +my pipe (O, goddess Nicotine, what a pipe!) would he +speak. Then suddenly he said:</p> + +<p>"We no lay out to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Why?" I asked, quickly alarmed that Sylvia had +refused to come.</p> + +<p>"No use. When men on guard call, we find 'em +easy. No much palmetto; we slip up good."</p> + +<p>I laughed; not at what he said, but because to laugh +was irresistible. My nerves were just a little drunk on +relaxation.</p> + +<p>"Come across with what Echochee said," I told him.</p> + +<p>He grinned and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Echochee know me. Me no call like owl, for 'fraid +all's-well-men no be fooled; so crawl close and scratch +on wall. She come to place inside, then me put mouth +to crack and say in Seminole: 'Echochee, me Tachachobee.' +She squat down by crack and whisper back: +'You lie. What your father name?' Me say: 'Black +boy got no father; Echochee friend, Wanona, squaw of +Kittimee, raise him.' Then she ask back quick: 'How +many pickaninny Kittimee and Wanona had?' Me say: +'Boy child.' She whisper quicker: 'What wigwam +stood in morning shadow to Kittimee?' Me say: 'Echochee +wigwam.' She say: 'Who next?' Me say: 'Pattawa, +him shoot long gun.' She wait 'while, and say: +'If you Tachachobee, what scar you got on left leg?' +Me say: 'No scar on left leg, scar on right leg; four +teeth of Pawpawloochee spotted dog what wildcat kill.' +She know then me tell no lie, and unlock door and come +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>out, and take my hand. 'You big man now, Tachachobee,' +she say. 'Me got big man job, Echochee,' me say, +and tell her how me take 'em 'way."</p> + +<p>I was charmed with the way Echochee had put Smilax +through the third degree, so to speak, because it proved +that Sylvia had a shrewd protector; one who would at +least not be outmatched except by force—and, judging +from the tray episode, even force would have to be considerable.</p> + +<p>"She go in," Smilax continued, "and tell Lady, then +Lady come out and say: 'Good. We be ready. How +we know when you come?' And me tell her this, Mister +Jack, so you listen for you have to do um. Me say: +'You hear men call what time?' She say she do. Me +say: 'You hear 'em call all's well?' She say she do, +and me say: 'When you hear one call all's-er-well, unlock +door for me come quick.'"</p> + +<p>"You want me to call all's-er-well, instead of all's-well? +Is that the idea?"</p> + +<p>"Good. We slip up on guard; you take man at One, +me man at Two; we kill 'em quick and make no noise. +Man at Three far off; him no count. Me wait then till +time for next call. If me hear all's-er-well, me know +you no dead, and go in water. Then you come quick +and quiet to place where Two is dead and make call for +him. Then Three will answer; we no care 'bout Three. +If me take long, and come time for 'nother call, you do +um same as first. Soon we be over."</p> + +<p>"You won't have a punt," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"No need um; water so," he drew his hand across his +waist. "Tote Lady, then Echochee."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't know I'm to be there?"</p> + +<p>"No; plenty time."</p> + +<p>That night I slept heavily, as a man who has regained +the bloom of health, and awoke with the rosy dawn. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +few fiery bars shot across the sky, which the trees, brush +and grass reflected. Red, everywhere red; and I +thought how much more red the night would be after +Smilax and I had silenced Posts One and Two. I +raised my head and looked for him. The fire was burning, +our breakfast was cooking. He had doubtless gone +to the spring for water, so I rolled out of my lean-to +and started to the pool; but stopped, listening.</p> + +<p>Somewhere ahead of me I heard his voice, deep and +musical, droning a weird kind of chant that seemed to +be utterly everlasting. It was not loud, but rather like +a deep organ note that carries a long distance. In a +while he came nearer, walking unconcernedly with his +face to the sky. Over and over and over the chant continued; +truly a sort of world without end.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the second verse?" I cheerily asked, +as he was about to pass.</p> + +<p>He stopped, swung around, and showed his teeth in a +smile that was as free from worry as the day.</p> + +<p>"Me sing askabee," he explained. "Enemy go down +when me sing askabee."</p> + +<p>"Then pray continue, by all means," I said hurriedly, +"Maybe after breakfast we can manage to knock out a +duet."</p> + +<p>"We build fort after breakfast," he replied, unmindful +of my banter. "Breakfast 'bout ready. Get wet +quick and come back soon." It's a wonder he hadn't +told me to smoke.</p> + +<p>On the southern and western edge of our "island"—thus +being nearest Efaw Kotee's settlement—were a lot +of fallen palms; trees that many years ago had been +killed by fire and now lay partially rotted. The best of +these Smilax had planned to make into a fort; not an +elaborate affair, but a shoulder-high hollow square,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +around which was to be built another hollow square, a +three foot space between their walls to be filled with +sand. It was a good idea, and would stop a Krag or +modern Springfield bullet with ease.</p> + +<p>We worked on this till noon; he trimming, lifting and +placing the logs—and elephants have never swung teak +more splendidly—while I, with our jointed camp spade, +filled in the sand. The use of an axe could not possibly +betray our position as Efaw Kotee had been betrayed, +because the breeze continued from him to us, and also +for the equally good reason that the bite of an axe in +soggy palmetto does not sound with anything like the +ring that is caused by hardwood. So our walls grew, +being fitted with nice precision that gave them more +than enough strength to sustain the filling of sand—which, +in turn, was kept from sifting through the interstices +by a double lining of palm leaves.</p> + +<p>After an early luncheon we went back to add a few +finishing touches, and then stood off admiring it.</p> + +<p>"Oughtn't we put in a stock of provisions?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No stay long 'nough in there to get much hungry," +Smilax shook his head. "One night and they pull um +down and got us. Good to keep 'em off in daytime; +after dark we run in grass."</p> + +<p>There was something in what he said.</p> + +<p>With the approach of evening a curious calm came +over me. Perhaps it was the nearness of action, perhaps +because I had accustomed myself to the thought +that before another dawn I must deliberately slip upon +a fellow man and destroy him. In France, with a battle +raging, men lost their identity, and if—or when—we +killed one, we rarely knew it. But in this peaceful +country it seemed a more murderous thing to do. Yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +perhaps the truest reason why my nerves had turned to +steel was the dominating thought of Sylvia.</p> + +<p>Twice I rehearsed before Smilax what I was to do. +I stood apart and called: "Post One, nine o'clock, and +all's-er-well!" to let him judge if my voice differed materially +from the one we heard last night. This was +most important, as the suspicion of the guard at post +Three must not be aroused. I then called the next post +in an altered voice, and felt well pleased when Smilax +said the tones were near enough to pass.</p> + +<p>It was an uncanny rehearsal, this imitating the voices +of those whom we should have made forever silent, but +if there existed anywhere on earth a justification for +the taking of human life it rested with Smilax and me. +We were not killers, but defenders; we did not go so +much to destroy as to save. Our way was the only way +to rescue a helpless girl and a faithful old woman from +destruction. Two men, or two hundred, made no difference +now; I would kill all, or any number, who stood in +the way of that beloved girl's safety.</p> + +<p>We looked over our firearms. I had given him Tommy's +"l'il crack-crack" which, with my own, were the +only weapons we intended to take—I mean the only +explosive weapons, for Smilax carried his long, keen-edged +hunting knife, a thing he was never without; and +I, likewise, strapped on my own. After this we went +about putting the camp in order; building a shelter +tent by the spring for Sylvia and an adjacent lean-to +for Echochee. Joyfully I robbed myself of bedding, +arranged comfortable shake-downs with moss and leaves +of the cabbage palm, and did everything conceivable to +make the place attractive.</p> + +<p>I had demurred at first about coming back here for a +day or two; wanting, instead, to travel as speedily as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +possible to Big Cove, where the <i>Whim</i>—and if not the +<i>Whim</i>, at least the <i>Orchid</i>—would be at our disposal. +But he showed me the futility of this. In the first +place, that was exactly what Efaw Kotee would be suspecting +when the escape became known. The dead +sentries, certain to be discovered when they failed to +call the next half hour, would reveal the story of outside +help, so the pursuit would be swift and directly up +the coast—swifter, indeed, than she might be able to +travel.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't they think we'd taken her off in +a small boat," I asked, "and escaped through the +islands?"</p> + +<p>"Then Efaw Kotee want to know why kill guard on +mainland."</p> + +<p>"That's so. But, Smilax, suppose we hide the +guards?"</p> + +<p>He thought a moment over this, but finally shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"No good. Then Efaw Kotee say guard run off with +Lady, so he come back 'cross prairie same as up and +down shore. That make our chance ve'y bad. No. +They find men dead, then hunt quick through forest up +beach; maybe down beach. After 'while, maybe they +find sign where me and you camp in L'il Cove; then they +know small boat been there and gone. Then they come +home mad, and when all quiet we make big circle to +<i>Whim</i>. Some day we come back; maybe kill 'em all. +Me want Jess; him crack Smilax head. That good plan; +you smoke."</p> + +<p>I lay on the ground and smiled. Kill 'em all! Gods, +but I was going back into the primitive by leaps and +bounds! I wondered if that girl would trust herself +to me, were she to know!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Me big fool," Smilax suddenly cried, smashing a +fist into the palm of his hand.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" I sat up, asking.</p> + +<p>"Me ought to be in L'il Cove and make fresh signs. +Me big fool!"</p> + +<p>It would have been a cute move, but now too late, and +I told him so.</p> + +<p>"No too late," he sprang up. "Three hour more +sun."</p> + +<p>"But, Smilax, it took us the best part of a day to +come here! You can't do it!"</p> + +<p>"Me go short way back, and fast." He pointed to +the western sky, at an angle of about twenty degrees +above the horizon, asking: "When night come you see +big star there?"</p> + +<p>I nodded. It was Jupiter or Venus, I didn't know +which; but it was large and beautiful, and I had seen it +many evenings.</p> + +<p>"When um touch top of trees you start. Me meet +you on far side of prairie."</p> + +<p>Feeling to see if his weapons were securely holstered +he was off without another word to make signs in the +sand at Little Cove that would look as though this very +afternoon a landing party had been there, and I wondered +if real Indians could possess the foresight of this +big negro. In amazement I watched him growing smaller +and smaller across the sea of grass; going north-by-northwest +now, and not the way we came. The prairie +in this direction must have extended five miles before +it met the forest, and as long as my eyes could follow +him he was jogging at a good free trot. By this more +direct route he had perhaps ten or twelve miles to go +each way; and his return would be at night, lighted by +a partial moon. I knew that he would make it, and be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +at our meeting place when I arrived, but how he could +possibly do so was in a realm beyond my comprehension.</p> + +<p>When the evening star sank and touched the forest +I quietly left our camp. The night air was delightfully +mellow, but my soul, my nerves, my determination were +as cold as the long blade of my knife. In our present +days of railroads, telegraphs and institutions of learning +I was merely a chap setting out to take a girl from +a den of rogues; but in this night-bathed Florida wilderness +civilization had been stripped to the bone. I was +a man going forth to steal a female—I had come from +my lair at dusk, set off with a snarl on my lips and a +firm grip upon my stone axe; so completely dominated +by this feeling that human pawns who might stand in +the way would be of no more consequence than ants.</p> + +<p>From the lighter prairie I cautiously approached the +black shadows of the forest, made impenetrably dark +by a network of branches and a mat of leaves which no +ray from the half grown moon could pierce. As I was +about to enter Smilax arose from the ground in front +of me.</p> + +<p>"Good," he whispered. "We rest li'l while; then +go fix 'em."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE RESCUE</h2> + + +<p>We lay in silence till at last, faintly, came the call +of post one. I listened, trying to catch the quality of +his voice, knowing I soon should have to imitate it. To +the call of the next man I also listened. The third did +not concern us more than to know he was on duty. No +others called, so the guard had not been strengthened. +These voices seemed to arouse Smilax, for he raised +himself up on one elbow, whispering:</p> + +<p>"What time they say?"</p> + +<p>"Ten o'clock," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Good. We fix 'em 'leven; come."</p> + +<p>So the game was on! I followed silently—and savagely; +for, as I have said, the human pawns who stood +between me and my maid held no more value than the +ants.</p> + +<p>For about ten minutes our progress went reasonably +well, then Smilax slowed to a pace of extreme caution +and finally sank to his hands and knees. In this manner +we crawled a few hundred yards farther.</p> + +<p>"Here your place," he put his lips close to my ear +and whispered. "First man not ve'y far; straight. You +find out when he call once more, or flash light. Watch +when Two man call so you know where go next. No +let 'em call 'leven. Good. Me go now." And he was +off like a snake to take up a position behind post two.</p> + +<p>I felt about me and, finding the ground clear of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +growth that might produce a noise, moved stealthily +forward, still on my hands and knees; but, after each +step, pausing and feeling ahead until my fingers seemed +to have grown as long and sensitive as antennæ. In +this way I must have gone another two hundred feet +when I saw a glimmer of white light. It was the electric +torch, and I knew the sentry must be looking at his +watch.</p> + +<p>Fleeting as it had been it showed me that between us +lay a patch of saw-palmetto, and this was awkward as +I could get no idea of its depth. But since he did not +call the post I knew that he would soon be taking another +look at the time, and kept warily on, my eyes alert to +ascertain the dimensions of that patch the instant his +torch should flare. For I must crawl around it; to go +through would be impossible. Smilax could have +achieved it, but Smilax was a wonder.</p> + +<p>The light showed again. I was within fifty feet of +the patch now and saw with a feeling of relief that it +ended almost at the spot where my man stood, or sat, +or whatever he was doing. Still, the time had not come +for him to call the half hour, when I should be able to +advance more rapidly during the few seconds that his +voice would make him insensible to other slight sounds. +Inch by inch, almost holding my breath, I crawled. The +pine needles let me slide along as though on a greased +floor. My left hand touched a saw-toothed stem, so I +veered slightly to the right, getting closer, all the while +closer.</p> + +<p>At the next flash I heard him clear his throat—that +had ever been his prelude to a call—and by the time his +sing-song "Post-one-half-past-ten-and-all's-well" ended +I had made good progress. Now, close up behind the +point of palmettoes which acted as a screen but was too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +sparse to offer interference, I realized that he could be +not more than ten feet away; and this was the best I +could hope to do, surely as close as I dared get.</p> + +<p>But ten feet was too great a space to be crossed at a +bound before he might utter one cry that would alarm +the camp. One cry, even half a cry, meant ruin to us. +It was not enough that this sentry die; he must die +without having uttered the merest sound. I determined, +therefore, to wait until his senses became focused, his +breathing centered, on the eleven o'clock call; for, so +occupied, his mind would be a fraction of a second +slower in responding to an outside thought which came +unawares to him than if he were standing on the alert +for sounds. This seemed to be good psychology. When +he cleared his throat to call eleven, therefore, I would +spring—and the gods be with me!</p> + +<p>I own that for a little while my heart did pound unmercifully, +but with even less mercy I willed it to be +calm. For the moment I almost regretted having come +so near, because it seemed preposterous to suppose that +he would not discover me. I could distinctly hear the +slightest move he made—but it must be remembered +that I was listening to him, whereas he did not suspect +my existence. Once he knocked the dead ashes from +his pipe against the heel of his boot; then I thought he +was getting ready for a smoke, and soon after this he +struck a match.</p> + +<p>As the flame, sheltered by his two hands held cup-wise, +flickered above the bowl I got a look at him. He impressed +me as being a well put up fellow of considerable +strength, who would not be conquered without trouble. +But never have I seen a face present a pantomime of +more brutal indifference. It was seamed with lines of +cruelty; the coarse lips were hideously puckered about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +the pipe stem; his eyes drooped in bestial satisfaction +as he sucked at it. While he was getting the light, thus +creating a noise in his own ears that would drown a +slighter noise from me, I took the opportunity to arrange +my position somewhat, and now felt satisfied. +With clean ground beneath me, with only a thin screen +of palmetto leaves between us, how better could I have +planned!</p> + +<p>Minutes sped, and my senses seemed to have accumulated +into a little ball between my eyes. I may have +trembled; I know that my nerves were stretched to the +very highest fighting pitch, they were in tune with my +determination. The next half hour would decide the +salvation or destruction of the girl I loved.</p> + +<p>The electric torch flashed on a silver watch in his +huge, dirty hand. I held my breath, ready—but he did +not call. Again I had to will my heart to stop its +sudden thumping; again I settled down to wait—though +with my legs crouched and my fingers resting on the +sand, as I had "set" many a time for a hundred yard +dash. All I needed now was the word "Go!"</p> + +<p>More minutes sped. At last he moved, and I guessed +that he was reaching into his pocket for the torch. It +flashed, shining on the silver watch as before. I heard +the cover snap to with a click of finality; he cleared +his throat—and I bounded into the air.</p> + +<p>He had no time to cry out before my fingers locked +upon his throat as jaws of iron. He staggered and +caught my wrists, but did not immediately begin the +frantic struggle I expected. His rifle fell to the soft +earth with hardly a sound and, like a dead weight, he +crumpled up; falling so quickly that I nearly came down +on top of him.</p> + +<p>At first, suspecting this might be a ruse to break my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +grip, I squeezed the tighter, holding his head up as far +as my knees and shaking it with the savageness that a +terrier would shake a rat. There was no room for compromises +here. Grimly believing him to be beyond the +point of giving an alarm, I was not prepared for an +attack when he came to life with an energy born of +desperation, wrapped his arms about my legs and with +tremendous strength jerked me forward, at the same +instant striking me in the back with his knee. Thus, +to keep from pitching over his head, I involuntarily lost +my hold—the last of all things I would have done!</p> + +<p>Yet the effect to so violent a choking seemed for the +moment to have paralyzed his power to call, and swiftly, +as a darting hawk, I made another grab for the throat +that must at all costs be silenced. He had covered it +with his own hands and I could not pry away his fingers. +Again and again I tried, and now, with growing +strength, he caught my wrists and held them. Maddened +by the specter of failure, I heard him drawing in +a labored breath that I knew would come out in a +hideous yell.</p> + +<p>Success lay upon the fraction of a second. In a +frenzy jerking one of my hands free, and throwing the +full weight of my body across his face to momentarily +smother the outcry, I twisted around, drew my knife, +and plunged it deep into his side. There was a convulsive +tremor, and silence. Yet, as the king snake had +done, I also drew back warily, listening. It had been +enough.</p> + +<p>Springing up, and trying to calm my breathing, I +called:</p> + +<p>"Post one, 'leven o'clock, and all's-er-well!"</p> + +<p>The last word had no more than been pronounced +when I was moving swiftly, silently on post number<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +two. True to his intention, Smilax had prepared the +way.</p> + +<p>"Post two, 'leven o'clock, and all's-er-well!" I called +in an altered voice.</p> + +<p>The sentry at post three, doubtless having a vein of +humor or finding any variation of his tedious duty agreeable, +dwelt in his turn long and almost lovingly over +the "er-well," making it sound "e-e-er-well."</p> + +<p>"How you like that?" he called, in a guarded tone, +and receiving no answer, laughed: "Then go ter hell +with yer perlite manners."</p> + +<p>A few minutes elapsed before I was conscious of a +movement in the water, slight, barely distinguishable. +But my eyes had grown more and more accustomed +to the darkness and I thought that I made out something +coming toward the shore. Creeping a little forward +and listening, I felt that it was Smilax carrying +Sylvia, and became certain of this when someone was +deposited there who began cautiously to climb the bank. +Smilax, evidently, had turned back for Echochee. But +along this section of the mainland the bank was steep, +and the climber came with difficulty—once slipping and +making what I thought to be an awful racket. Even +the humorous sentry on post three heard it and, providentially +unsuspicious, called:</p> + +<p>"Yer ain't bit yerse'f, have yer?"</p> + +<p>I made no answer to this, trusting him to be satisfied +with his own wit. Yet now, following a most +natural impulse, forgetting in our extreme peril that +Sylvia was unaware of my presence, I leaned above the +top and reached down to her; when, to my utter consternation, +she gave a piercing scream of terror. Quick +as a flash the sentry at post three yelled and fired his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +gun, and the sleeping camp became a bedlam of cursing +men.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake," I whispered—but Smilax had +turned back to us and was beside her.</p> + +<p>"Him friend," he said, hurriedly. "Only friend we +got! Go with him quick! Me get Echochee!"</p> + +<p>While saying this he was pushing her up to me, at the +same time holding out a bag, or kind of traveling case, +that she had dropped. I seized it with one hand, and +her arm with the other.</p> + +<p>"Quick; go to camp," Smilax was saying. "Me get +Echochee and give 'em chase up coast. Be back soon; +you wait there."</p> + +<p>He had taken to the water again and was making for +the Indian woman, who I thought had started out to +meet him. So I knew he would rescue her, as surely as +he was six and a half feet of muscle and endurance. +The camp had become thoroughly aroused by now, and +lights were everywhere. Hoping to reassure Sylvia, I +whispered as Smilax would have spoken:</p> + +<p>"Me friend; come quick!"</p> + +<p>Above the confusion we could hear the voice of Efaw +Kotee bellowing:</p> + +<p>"Get the punts, you fools! Which way is she?"</p> + +<p>"On the mainland," someone yelled.</p> + +<p>"Then catch her," he bellowed again, with a string +of blasphemous oaths.</p> + +<p>This decided her, and she whispered wildly:</p> + +<p>"Hurry! Take me where Tachachobee said!"</p> + +<p>We dashed through the forest, I leading, she close +behind. Nor had we any time to spare, for before we +had gone a hundred yards two quick shots rang out. It +was "li'l crack-crack" speaking, I felt sure of it.</p> + +<p>Shots answered rapidly in threes and fours. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +automatic spoke again, this time farther to the north, +drawing more shots from the angry pursuers; but I +knew that among trees so thick and in darkness so +impenetrable Smilax and Echochee ran little chance of +being hit. At the prairie, made vaguely lighter by a +hazy, half grown moon, we crouched in the grass and +waited.</p> + +<p>You have never, I suppose, been afraid to breathe, +flattened against a wall, or huddled in a shadowy place, +listening to the growls and grunts and sniffs of the +man-beast hunting you? No, of course not.</p> + +<p>Men were now tearing through the forest like a herd +of stampeded horses, shooting, yelling, cursing, while at +brief intervals the automatic told them which way to +go. Farther and farther the chase went, all the time +following the coast and leading away from us till, after +twenty minutes, the yells were hardly discernible and +the shots sounded like faint little pops of a nursery +gun. But they were as rapid as ever, telling us that +the pursuit had in no way diminished. Smilax, undoubtedly +master of the situation, would lead them on +and on; either close by Big Cove so those aboard the +<i>Whim</i>—had she made harbor—could take a hand, or +finally lose them somewhere in the treacherous Everglades. +Then he would came back for us. I felt no +great uncertainty for Smilax and Echochee.</p> + +<p>I now straightened up—taking care that she should +not see my face—and listened to satisfy myself that no +one had stayed behind to be roaming in the forest near +us, then whispered:</p> + +<p>"Come!"</p> + +<p>In silence, she following, we crossed the two mile +space, and I drew a deep breath of thankfulness when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +we at last stepped beneath the black trees of my +"island."</p> + +<p>I knew that she had taken me for a Seminole—at +least, the probability seemed to be strong in that direction. +The darkness again was too intense for her to see +my features, and, since I had been fairly successful +in speaking the choppy English of the Indian, I determined +to continue the deception until morning. For +she had become somewhat accustomed to the "trusted +friend" by now, whereas re-introductions at this hour +would be exceedingly awkward, if not quite disastrous +to her peace of mind. So, without a halt, I walked on +through the trees until we came to her tent. At the +door of this I put down her bag, then stepped back and +for a second at arm's length flashed my electric torch +on it, again being careful to keep my face in shadow.</p> + +<p>"You safe here," I said. "Tachachobee make this +camp for you. Me and him camp little way off. To-night +me watch to see when him and Echochee come. +No one find you; you sleep well. Tachachobee good +man; me and him friends. You no be 'fraid."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said wearily. Ah, how tired her +voice did seem!</p> + +<p>"There water; good to drink. You hungry?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you,—what is your name?"</p> + +<p>This was a poser, for I had not thought up a name. +But, of course, Jack came first into my mind, so I +answered:</p> + +<p>"Jackachobee."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Jackachobee," she said, "I'm not +hungry."</p> + +<p>"You want gun?" I asked again.</p> + +<p>"I have one," she answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good. Then you sleep; no one find you here. In +morning take time; when ready for breakfast walk back +this way a hundred steps and whistle like plover. Then +me come and show you way. Sleep good."</p> + +<p>Thus, feeling very well satisfied with my Indian impersonation—which, +nevertheless, had its faults—I left +her; turning and going to the fort, there choosing a +place where I could keep guard all night against possible +danger.</p> + +<p>Long and earnestly did I listen for some sound of the +chase, but the night had grown absolutely still except +for a soft breeze rustling the palm fronds above my +head and the prairie grass in front of me. Yet I felt +secure in the belief that Smilax had not been taken. +Without question, he and Echochee were still in flight, +heading toward some safe refuge; coaxing, by shot or +cry, the furious pack that tore hopefully after them. +I knew that my vigil here was unnecessary—that with +all senses focused on the chase no straggler would by +any chance be coming this far out into the prairie—but +I had told Sylvia it would be kept.</p> + +<p>As I sat there, joyous over the conquest we had made, +but more supremely happy because she was safe and +near me, thinking tumultuous things which were a +credit to mankind, hoping hopes that man has never +realized, I raised my face to the sky and thanked God.</p> + +<p>Creature of incongruities! I thanked God for putting +her safely into my keeping, when my fingers had not +yet been washed after their bath in a fellow creature's +blood! The cave man had gone abroad at dusk to find +a mate, and human pawns who stood in his way had +been of no more consequence than ants!</p> + +<p>Thus it has always been for the women we love. Thus +it should be.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<h2>DOLORIA</h2> + + +<p>With the first glimpse of dawn I arose and faced the +East; my arms out, my palms up, and across them my +rifle as a kind of offering to the day. I do not know +why I did this—this spontaneous though semi-pagan +act—except that on my "island," and in my power, +slept the girl I loved; she whom I had stolen from her +watchful tribe, whom I would have as mate. By all +the laws of the wilderness she was mine, and I wanted +to tell someone, to challenge the wild, that these arms +and hands and this rifle would protect her till the +end.</p> + +<p>A thin mist hung low upon the prairie, a faint tint +of salmon touched the sky, and to my lips sprang the +words of that inspiring "Salutation of the Dawn" which +found expression in the Orient many thousands of years +ago:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Look to this Day!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For it is life, the very life of life.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In its brief course lie all the verities</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And realities of your existence:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>The glory of action,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>The bliss of growth,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>The splendor of beauty:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For yesterday is but a dream,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And tomorrow is only a vision;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But today well-lived makes</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Every yesterday a dream of happiness,</i><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span><span class="i0"><i>And every tomorrow a vision of hope.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Look well, therefore, to this Day!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then, as the light increased and the mist began to +dissolve, I swept the prairie in all directions for a sign +of enemies. Everywhere was peace.</p> + +<p>Assured that Efaw Kotee would never find us here +I turned and went to my lean-to—to the place my +lean-to had been before we moved it beside the spring—gathered +up my knick-knacks and repaired to the +pool, emerging half an hour later a more presentable +man. After this I built a small fire of buttonwood and +set about preparing breakfast.</p> + +<p>But this proved to be a perplexing ordeal. Bilkins +had packed in a lot of stuff that he might have manipulated, +though to me it was worse than Greek. Of course, +I could cook up coffee and bacon—the kind of meal +Smilax and I were used to—but Sylvia must never be +subjected to that! And it would be insane of me to go +out on the prairie after snipe! There was nothing for +it but prepare a dainty concoction from what we had, so, +wishing heartily that Bilkins had come off in the small +boat with me, I dived into our stores on a tour of inspection.</p> + +<p>Tea!—who wanted tea for breakfast! A pot of butter!—appropriate +enough, though it might have been +fresher. A can of beans!—worse than tea. A can of +finnan haddie came after this, and several cans that +only Bilkins could have understood. But in the end I +carried a number of them to the fire and had a general +opening, arranged them in a row, and began to cook. +The chief trouble was that I did not know which should +be done thoroughly and which merely warmed up. Anyway, +I emptied something, inviting if unpronounceable, +into the skillet and as it began to sizzle it smelt really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +good. So I crouched lower, stirring vigorously to keep +it from scorching, and thought of the surprise it would +be to her—for, to be quite frank, it was a surprise to +me!</p> + +<p>Then a voice at my back, making me forget the +sizzling stuff, the fire, the breakfast, said with a note +of extreme anxiety:</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Jackachobee! Oughtn't Echochee +be here by this time? You don't think any thing's happened +to her, do you? I can't whistle like a plover and +had to come to breakfast unannounced. I hope it's +ready. You've seen nothing of those men?"</p> + +<p>I did not move under this rapid fire of questions and +statements. To the contrary, I lowered my head and +was afraid to move; afraid to face the rebuke, or the +fear, or whatever it would be, that might naturally follow +her discovery of my deception. But more potent +than this dread was the thrill of joy I felt in knowing +that she stood close behind me; that when I turned I +should see her there, face to face. Yet the very thought +of turning again started the chill of apprehension. +Without doubt she would wither me like a parched leaf +for having played so silly a part as Indian. I began +vigorously to stir the stuff in my skillet which now had +stuck to the bottom and was smelling like the very old +devil. Of course, my face would have been red, anyway—leaning +over the fire as I was!</p> + +<p>"Are you keeping anything from me?" she cried, I +thought on the verge of "nerves," so hesitating no +longer I arose and turned to her.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped, drawing back and putting one +hand to her breast—while the other, I noticed, fell +mechanically to the butt of a revolver swung to her +waist. Her eyes were wide with surprise, as her lips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +were parted in fear and utter wonderment. Truly, she +was the incarnation of girlhood standing at bay!</p> + +<p>I had known her beauty; I had been astounded by it +in the Havana café, in my dream, in the little kodak +film of Monsieur's, and last, when she stood in her doorway +less than forty-eight hours before. But here was +something that transcended all that I had previously +seen in her. Perhaps the young sun, golden in the +morning atmosphere, cast the spell as it sought out +spun-copper strands amongst her waves of hair; perhaps +the days of anxiety, terminating in a night of unfearful +sleep, had put the dew, the mystery, in her eyes; or it +may have been the color, smouldering beneath the attractive +tan on her cheeks and tinting her pure throat, +that held me charmed; or the indefinable spirit of wildness +that showed through a natural poise. I saw, too, +in a hazy kind of way, a most bewitching costume—at +least, admirably suited to her: a waist of olive-drab, +not unlike our service shirts but of delicate material, +open at the throat and fitting her snugly; quite +a short skirt to match, and laced tan boots.</p> + +<p>"Please don't shoot," I said, trying to smile.</p> + +<p>"Where is Jackachobee?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"I'm Jackachobee."</p> + +<p>"But you're not an Indian!"</p> + +<p>"No, but I really am the friend Tachachobee told +you of."</p> + +<p>I could see that she was growing more alarmed, and +now spoke frankly, saying:</p> + +<p>"I pretended to be a Seminole last night because explanations +would have taken time; and I thought, too, +that you'd feel safer with a good Indian because he's +easier to boss than a white man."</p> + +<p>Her eyes narrowed, subtly suggesting that she might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +take this as a challenge. At last, having looked me over—but +not once removing her hand from the revolver +butt—she said, with a little pucker between her eyebrows:</p> + +<p>"I've seen you somewhere. Were you ever in our—in +that place over there?"</p> + +<p>Now, of course, I could hardly expect her to see a +resemblance between a chap wearing breeches and puttees +in a Florida wilderness and the dinner-jacketed +yachtsman who dined near her table off yonder in +Havana. It would be asking a great deal—although +I did feel disappointed.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered, "I haven't been in that settlement; +but I watched it from a hiding place all of day +before yesterday. You see, I've come two hundred +miles to take you away from it."</p> + +<p>"You've come to—to take <i>me</i>?" she slowly asked, and +I thought the color began to smoulder again; while +from her eyes flashed a look that might have been a +struggle between gratitude, resentment and fear. Wanting +only the first to prevail I continued hastily:</p> + +<p>"Yes; I followed ever since you wrote that you were +in danger, and I've sworn not to return to my yacht +without you."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she gasped, stepping back and staring at me +through the swiftly changing lights of her awakening. +"Surely," she caught her breath again, "surely you're +not the—you <i>can't</i> be!"</p> + +<p>"I am," I smiled, holding out my hand. "The man +you gave the paper ball to."</p> + +<p>Impulsively she clasped it in both of her own, swaying +slightly toward me and looking her gratitude +through eyes brim-full of tears—but the angels be my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>witness that spoken words have never been so eloquent! +Then she began to laugh—a little wildly, a +little hysterically—so I said:</p> + +<p>"It's all right—you're safe here, absolutely! I +watched last night and there wasn't the slightest sign +of anyone. You see, Smilax—that's Tachachobee, but +we call him Smilax because he smiles—well, he and +Echochee purposely led those fellows up the coast, and +they'll keep on leading them any-old-where until it's +safe to join us here. It's been carefully planned out. +However, I'll tell you everything after—after——" I +looked ruefully at the shriveled black stuff now incinerated +on the bottom of my skillet, adding: "but there +isn't going to be any after; it's all burned up!"</p> + +<p>She had pluckily taken herself in hand by now and, +following my dejected stare, cried:</p> + +<p>"Is <i>that</i> our breakfast? Heavens, what a calamity! +But show me where the things are and I'll cook another!"</p> + +<p>"You'll soil your fingers," I hesitatingly protested.</p> + +<p>"Soil my fingers! Of course, I will; but there's no +scarcity of water, nor of my appetite, either—and we +can't possibly eat what you cook!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," I said, just a little touchily. +"I'm a pretty good sort of a cook, I am!" Often have I +noticed how the majority of men get touchy about their +cooking.</p> + +<p>"The evidence is convincing," she laughed. "Where +do you keep your stores? Hurry, please do, if you don't +want a fainting woman on your hands. I'm starved!"</p> + +<p>Now I saw that some of this was being put on; that +it was the slackening of tightly pulled nerves; so I +encouraged her as far as I dared without being suspected, +knowing that it is best to open all vents when +one's feelings have been dangerously pent up. As to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +ability to cook!—why, there were extenuating circumstances +governing this breakfast that should have excused +it. Some day I'd surprise her.</p> + +<p>I changed that idea quickly enough when she took +charge, however, for in ten minutes there were two or +three things sizzling and sending out an aroma that +might have brought Epicurus himself back to life. +What's more, she did not seem to be worrying over +them; she did not even seem particular about stirring +them, nor did she burn her fingers, nor get red in the +face and hot, nor suffer any of those agonies that I had +supposed were a necessary part of culinary science.</p> + +<p>"You're a wonder," I exclaimed. "Darned if I've +ever seen such a swell cook!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," she tossed her head and mimicked. +"I'm glad I please, sir."</p> + +<p>"Like your new place?" I asked, gravely.</p> + +<p>"I've seen worse, sir."</p> + +<p>"Like your new master, too?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Marster, is it!" She sent me a look with which +there was a most fetching little curve at the corners of +her lips that she seemed unable to control. "I'll 'ave +you understand that queens of the kitchen know no marster!"</p> + +<p>"But you won't be in the kitchen all the time."</p> + +<p>"That I will," she replied. "In the woods, all the +world's a kitchen!"</p> + +<p>"I rather wish it was," I sighed, looking toward the +savory skillet and coffee pot; whereupon she gave the +brightest of laughs, telling me to set the table as things +were about ready.</p> + +<p>But Smilax and I had never bothered about a table. +We did not even possess a cloth, or napkin, or anything +like that. So I cut some palm leaves, arranging them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +on the ground; then ransacked the duffle for a small kit +of aluminum plates and cups, with also knives and forks. +Neither had Smilax and I deigned to use this kit, principally +because our meals had been taken on the move. +At best palm leaves do not make a good table, as their +ridges cause the dishes to wobble; so in the end we +spread our steaming feast upon the grass.</p> + +<p>My word, but that was a breakfast! I don't remember +what we had, but it did taste good. When it was +over, right down to the last crumb—for she had complained +of starvation, too—I looked across at her, saying:</p> + +<p>"If I can move, at all, and you're willing to go +slowly, I'd like to show you over your new possessions!"</p> + +<p>"Right away? Mercy no," she stood up, brushing +her skirt. "I'm going to get a cigarette, and you're +going to wash the dishes!"</p> + +<p>"But Smilax washes the dishes," I protested.</p> + +<p>"And he may be thirty miles from here," she announced.</p> + +<p>"Will you come back and watch me?"</p> + +<p>"I will if you want me to," she laughed, "but you'll +look awfully silly."</p> + +<p>"Then you needn't," I agreed, less reluctantly, "and +I'll call in half an hour. By the way, I've deeded you +all the 'island' east of those two big pines. The other +side is mine."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I'll take possession at once." And she +left me for her spring and bailiwick and cigarette—although +I never saw her smoking one before, or after. In +a few minutes I heard her calling and, straightening up +with some feeling of alarm, answered:</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nothing; only don't forget to use very hot water!"</p> + +<p>Later we walked to the south-western edge of the +"island," so she could see how it stood in relation to +Efaw Kotee's settlement; and I showed her the fort, +purposely exaggerating its ability to withstand a siege +and minimizing its chances of having to do so. We sat +down there upon the turf, where the breeze and shade +were refreshing. It was a fortunate location, also, for +keeping an eye on the prairie.</p> + +<p>"Have you named this beautiful place of yours?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"No; we merely call it the 'island,' after the native +fashion. Will you name it for me—for us? It's half +yours, you know."</p> + +<p>"Let's call it——" she thought a moment, "oh, let's +call it The Oasis; for that's cool and comfortable and +suggests safety from all sorts of things!"</p> + +<p>"The Oasis it is, and we'll put it on the map some +day, see if we don't!"</p> + +<p>After a while I told her pretty much everything from +the beginning of our cruise: of Tommy, Monsieur, and +Gates, of Smilax, of seeing her in Havana. I scrupulously +avoided any mention of having been bowled over +by her beauty, or of the dream, and was inclined to +treat the paper ball episode with a laugh; but here she +interrupted me, saying:</p> + +<p>"But I was very serious, really, and scared almost to +death. You surely know I must have been to've done +it! The whole thing came so suddenly—like a frightful +storm!"</p> + +<p>"Then you hadn't always been at outs with him—or +forbidden him to cross to your little island?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Mercy, no—that is, not my father. The other men,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +of course, were on a footing of servants—to me, at +any rate. It was only after we got home two days ago, +after Echochee and I were alone again, that I kept +them away by—by threatening——"</p> + +<p>"Don't say what—it hurts me," I interrupted her +quickly. "I saw your wonderful courage from our hiding +place."</p> + +<p>"Everyone was quite friendly up to the time we +reached Havana," she continued, in a rather forced, +even voice. "We were there three days before your +yacht came—though I didn't know it was yours until +today—and that afternoon I'd been up in the Prado +with Echochee doing a lot of shopping. We always +bought every conceivable thing on those semi-yearly +trips. Well, when we got back on board my father +rather balked about taking me off again to dinner, but +I held him to it because he'd previously promised. I +think that he had grown so sensate to dangers that he +felt one then, but couldn't locate it."</p> + +<p>"Because we were anchored so close to you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't really know. But it was something. It +wasn't a pleasant dinner from the outset, because I resented +his devilish mood and was disgusted with him +for being afraid. That doesn't sound very nice," she +added, half apologetically, "but, you know, there had +always been something subtly antagonistic within me +that—oh, I can't express it, but I'd never felt very +close to him, ever since I can remember. It was largely +my fault, I suppose. But I'd had glimpses of his +frightfully cruel nature. Then Echochee, who came to +nurse me when I was little, always hated him, and I +adored her—so, of course, her influence counted. You +really think she's coming through all right?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p><p>"Downright sure of it," I declared, in solemn earnest. +After a few moments of silence, I asked gently: +"Do you mind telling me more?"</p> + +<p>She gave a slight start as though the question had +brought her from some deep thought, but smiled, saying:</p> + +<p>"Certainly, I don't. When your two friends left +you in the café my father became terribly excited. I +asked him what on earth was the trouble—but smiling, +for that was a subterfuge he always demanded of me +in public places—and he whispered that he thought the +shorter man was a police agent from his lost republic."</p> + +<p>"Lost republic?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You see, my father had been its President—in +South America, you know—until the revolution compelled +us to fly." This was said resignedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh," I murmured. "When was that?"</p> + +<p>"Years ago. I just remember being carried off one +night in a great hurry."</p> + +<p>"Tell me the rest about Havana?" I asked, trying to +appear calm.</p> + +<p>"It's all rather awful," she sighed. "I hadn't noticed +your friends more than to get a glimpse of them +as they left, but saw you alone at the table. Pretty +soon our captain, Jess,"—she may have given a slight +shudder, I wasn't sure—"came up and verified my +father's suspicions, and then I thought he surely would +lose his mind. I was already becoming frightened, especially +as the creature, Jess, impertinently leered at me, +and my father didn't knock him down for it. He had +never dared look at me before, except most deferentially, +and suddenly I felt that I was nearing something awful. +I can't explain it. It just came to me all of a sudden, +you know, with desperate certainty, and—and I wanted +to run away."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Were you trying to tell me that?"</p> + +<p>She flushed, but answered steadily:</p> + +<p>"Yes. I thought you looked like a man who'd help +a girl out of a mean place."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, that's the biggest compliment I've ever +had!"</p> + +<p>"I only had a chance to write a little," she ignored +my outburst, "but hoped you'd guess and tell your +friend, the police agent."</p> + +<p>"I didn't guess that," I admitted, somewhat crestfallen. +"But we knew you were in danger."</p> + +<p>"I should never have left that café if I'd known more +myself, then," she said, tensely. "I'd have stood up +and called to you—to every man there!"</p> + +<p>"And I'd have brought you out in spite of hell," I +cried. "Don't tell me there was anything much +worse!"</p> + +<p>Her cheeks were still aflame with anger, but she +smiled, saying in a lower tone:</p> + +<p>"Nothing worse than threats. When we got aboard +the yacht my father came to me and said, point-blank +before those men, that—that—oh, I can't!" She buried +her face in her hands—and it was all I could do to +keep from putting my arms about her and whispering +that everything was now all right. But she had started +out to tell me, and was determined to see it through. +"He said that he'd promised our captain, that creature +Jess, that I should—should——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," I murmured. "I know about it—he +said you'd have to marry the scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she exclaimed. "I'd never heard anything +so cold-blooded and damnable in all my life! The +creature stood leering at me over his shoulder, and I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>knew he'd been using threats because my father, himself, +was almost paralyzed with fear. And then I lost +my head—in blind rage, I suppose. I must have talked +like a common fish woman, but my one desire was to +see them cringe. So I told about leaving the message +for you, pretending to've written a great deal more—twisting +the knife all I knew how, and being thoroughly +catty. It must have been a disgusting exhibition," +she gave a sigh of despair, as if for that uncontrollable +outburst of temper.</p> + +<p>"I hope you rubbed it in good," I growled.</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't, because my father became so insane +with fear that he actually struck me, and rushed ashore +in the frantic hope that you might not have seen my +message. He would have killed you had he met you +then. It was in those few minutes that the little love I +ever had for him turned to loathing—and that's a frightful +thing to say about one's father, so I hope you won't +remember it."</p> + +<p>"We have a very mutual respect for each other in +loathing that gentleman," I announced. "But tell me +quickly—were you safe after that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, for I began to temporize. Echochee wanted +to kill them, of course—that being her only solution. +But I hoped we might manage to escape if they could +be put off a few days."</p> + +<p>"And you were in the small boat when they tied on +the bomb?"</p> + +<p>"Heavens, yes. But I'd no idea it was your yacht, +even then—although I thought I recognized your +friends taking pictures the morning we left Havana, +and was about to call to them when my father, always +suspicious, burst into my room."</p> + +<p>"It must have been hellish," I growled.</p> + +<p>"It was all of that. And especially as always before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +he'd tried to be kind—at least, he was extremely deferential. +That night at Key West he and the captain left +in a small boat, and when they came back I was ordered +into it. I think he must have been crazy, really, for +he said that he was going to show me what they did to +traitors—that was my new name then, you know—and +shoved a package of something in my face. The +captain cursed him for it—and I'd never before heard +him treated with the slightest disrespect, but when I +found out what the thing was I hoped it would blow +up and destroy us all. I only thank God that it didn't +go off and kill—my rescuer," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Then you did call that it wasn't fair?"</p> + +<p>"I had to protest! Oh, but he was a demon then," +she added, and I clenched my fists, remembering what +Gates had said. "But he used to be kind," she added, +sadly, "and I ought to remember him for that, don't +you suppose so? We have a wonderful library on the +islands, and when I was very young he began my education. +Do you know," she looked up, "I still remember +my first lesson in grammar? He taught me by the +days!"</p> + +<p>"Quite a remarkable thing, that, to remember so far +back," I smiled, whereupon she made a little grimace. +"How do you mean—by the days?"</p> + +<p>"I was taught a tomorrow, not alone because I could +recognize today but because I remembered yesterday, +and was shown how these were the past, present, and +future tenses of our lives; that the present participle is +Living, and the infinitive is——"</p> + +<p>"To love?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"To live," she said evenly, and I bit my tongue. +"He made me study awfully hard, but I rather liked +it as there wasn't much else to do except play with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +Echochee, and she became tiresome occasionally. Later +he started me at the piano, and the violin, and I loved +to work after that. For he's quite a remarkable musician, +really! I suppose our library must have a +thousand books, and I've read nearly all of them—besides +stacks of the modern ones we always brought from +our semi-annual cruises 'to the world'—as he used to +call those trips. Don't you simply adore Blasco?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean Ibañez," I said, rather pleased +at being able to air this familiarity with literary personages.</p> + +<p>"Ibañez, then," she casually agreed, "if you prefer +calling him by his mother's name."—And, not knowing +upon what hazy path this would lead me, I laughingly +admitted:</p> + +<p>"Well, I've only tackled one of his things, and +haven't even finished that yet." Adding, with perhaps +a slightly malicious desire to bring her superior knowledge +to bay: "You read him in the original, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Not freely enough to be quite relaxing. But on our +cruise last summer we got a very good translation in +French—really, much better than the English, I think."</p> + +<p>Again I laughed, as a light entered my muddled outlook +because of this astonishing information that accounted +for much I had not been able to reconcile with +her isolated life. From the moment she had mimicked +the cook I had been kept in a state of wonderment. I +had felt her superiority; I had marveled at the cultivation +that clung about her as a royal robe. Now it was +explained. Music, literature, languages!</p> + +<p>"That night you protested about the bomb," I asked, +"did you hear me call?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>Could it have been that some of the animation left +her face as she answered slowly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, was it you? I heard someone call to a person +named Sylvia."</p> + +<p>"But—isn't that your name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she laughed, "I haven't nearly so pretty a +name as that!"</p> + +<p>I was crazy to be the judge, but asked, instead:</p> + +<p>"Did your—father ever explain why he was afraid +of detectives?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more than that he was fearfully hunted +and persecuted. When I was almost a baby he had to +run away because of a political plot. He escaped with +me after," her voice lowered, "my mother had been +killed by the revolutionists, and we've been hiding here +ever since, awaiting the message that will bring him +back to be President again; although while the other +party is in power its agents would arrest him—and it's +been in power for years. Do you know," she looked +at me frankly, "I've never forgiven him for letting +them kill my mother! Throughout all of my childhood +I used to hold indignation meetings with myself and +consign him to every imaginable punishment—both for +that, and running away without avenging her."</p> + +<p>She was quiet then. This news of the South American +republic showed what an accomplished liar old +Efaw Kotee could be. Very plausible, indeed, and an +adequate excuse for keeping her in a potential prison.</p> + +<p>"I fear that I've been terribly outspoken," she said +at last, with a wistful expression that held both laughter +and apology.</p> + +<p>"You've been wonderful," I whispered, deliberately +turning away my head and gazing out across the prairie. +I could not have met her eyes just then.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ENLIGHTENING A PRINCESS</h2> + + +<p>As gently as I could, after I felt that my voice might +be trusted not to betray itself, I told her of Monsieur +Dragot's deductions, who we thought she really was—not +the daughter of that old scoundrel, at all. I let +her see the record of his crimes, her mother's discovery +of the plates, the kidnaping, and, unless something +most recent and unexpected had happened, the queen +regent of Azuria was waiting at this minute for the +little princess to return.</p> + +<p>She had been sitting very still, like a child with parted +lips enchantingly absorbed by a fairy tale. When I +finished she turned her wondering eyes to mine, and +gasped:</p> + +<p>"It can't be true!"</p> + +<p>"I think it is," I said. "I mean that it is so far as +Monsieur can judge from the threads of evidence he +holds, and what you've told me makes his theory more +convincing."</p> + +<p>"Oh—and I've called this man Father for so long! +You don't suppose he still might be, somehow?"</p> + +<p>"There's no somehow about it," I had to smile at this +question. "He either is, or isn't; in the same indefeasible +sense that white isn't black."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that he might be just partly, of +course," she said so quietly and seriously that I burst +out laughing. "But it's awfully hard to understand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +all at once! That must account for the subtle antagonism +I felt for him. It really accounts for so much!—for +the way he encouraged me to spend money, heaps and +heaps of it! Why, I've everything I can think of—from +Havana, New Orleans and Vera Cruz!"</p> + +<p>"He wanted you to spend his large bills so he could +get good money in change," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"That's obvious now, but suppose I'd been arrested +and sent to prison!"</p> + +<p>"I won't suppose anything of the kind," I declared, +so vigorously that she laughed.</p> + +<p>"I do feel like a thief, though," she added soberly. +"Why, everything I possess has been bought fraudulently."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't help it! Chuck 'em away, if it'll make +you feel better!"</p> + +<p>"I can't chuck 'em all away," and this time we both +laughed.</p> + +<p>"You can as soon as we reach New York, and—and——" +But as I did not know how to finish this, +I stopped; for what had been in my mind was: "When +you and I share all I own!"—and, of course, that +wouldn't have done to say aloud.</p> + +<p>For perhaps a minute she, also, was silent. Then she +turned, with the frankest, sweetest manner I have ever +seen, and said in a voice of mellifluent charm:</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you've been just awfully splendid?"</p> + +<p>I knew that my face got very red, but I tried to +answer casually enough:</p> + +<p>"The splendid things were done by Tommy, Gates, +Smilax, and the other fellows. You'll like Tommy, and +Monsieur knows—did I tell you he knows your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Don't," she whispered. "You make me feel like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +I'm being led into a new world, with new people, and +new customs, and new things!" Now her eyes widened +as if making a discovery, as she added: "My fa——, +that is, Mr. Graham, must actually have recognized +Monsieur Dragot!"</p> + +<p>"There's no other deduction," I agreed. "Our case +is proved almost beyond a doubt. Don't call that fellow +your father again, or even Mr. Graham. Smilax and +I have a name we'll share with you."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Efaw Kotee."</p> + +<p>Her laughter rippled through the wood, as she cried:</p> + +<p>"How perfectly lovely! I know what it means!"</p> + +<p>"Then you speak Seminole, Miss—Miss—but you say +it isn't Sylvia?"</p> + +<p>An expression of happy mischief in her face made +it adorable.</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't Sylvia. It's Doloria—you see, my life +has been sad!"</p> + +<p>"One wouldn't say so to look at you now. And I +think Doloria's a thousand times prettier than Sylvia! +Doloria! Just Doloria—like that?" For I wanted an +excuse to keep on saying it.</p> + +<p>"I—I suppose so," she hesitated. "Of course, it's +always had Graham after it, but—what did your Monsieur +Dragot say my last name was?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't say."</p> + +<p>"Then I haven't any."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you needn't bother about that. Any time +it gets lonesome you can hitch on Bronx—that is, I +mean, only in case, you know."</p> + +<p>I could have bitten out my tongue for this! I don't +know what fiends possessed me to be such an unmitigated +ass! It was as unfair as poison—an insult to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +only precepts I have ever genuinely felt proud of: the +code of playing fair. Before I could pretend to have +been making a silly joke she brushed away my contrition +by asking:</p> + +<p>"Why Bronx? What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>Glory be! I had forgotten that she could not know +my name! But now I had to deny myself, cast my birthright +to the winds, or else let her see that I was a +miserable cad who could not be trusted as protector to +a girl thrown upon his care.</p> + +<p>And, on the other hand, it was decidedly repulsive to +tell a lie—especially to her who seemed by her magnetic +gaze to challenge the truth right out of a fellow. But +conscience is, after all, only a name for our hidden +prosecutor, judge and jury, and our sentences are light +or heavy depending upon how many witnesses we can +persuade to perjure themselves. No man lives who has +not at some time used bribery in the mythical court +room of his heart. Among women, of course, it is the +accepted mode of legal procedure; and this gave me +hope to believe that she might be somewhat forgiving +when she found me out.</p> + +<p>"Why Bronx?" she was asking again.</p> + +<p>"Oh," I laughed, "it's a usual name in my part of +the country, that's all—like Smith, and Jones."</p> + +<p>I thought this would satisfy, but it gave her another +thought, instead.</p> + +<p>"Your name isn't Jackachobee, of course?"</p> + +<p>"As far as Jack, yes. Every one calls me Jack."</p> + +<p>A little while before this my cigarette case had fallen, +to the ground by us. She had picked it up, and was +even now turning it idly between her fingers.</p> + +<p>"I see it here," she said, looking more closely at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +monogram. "'J. B.' What does the B stand for, Mr.—Mr. +Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Brown," I answered desperately, and could feel +every ancestor of a long and honorable line of Bronxes +turning over in their graves. For I detest Brown. It's +a good name, an exceptionally fine and distinguished +name, the name not only of dear relatives but of very +good friends. Yet it just so happened that at this +particular moment I detested it—or was it the lie behind +it? So to repair my self-esteem I blurted somewhat +incoherently: "Bangs!"—having known a rather +decent chap named Bangs.</p> + +<p>"Is it spelled with a hyphen?" she glanced up rather +quizzically. "Brown-Bangs?"</p> + +<p>Her mind seemed to have flown lightly beyond me, +anticipating the extent of my confusion, for the smile +about her mouth, while enigmatic, suggested—enticingly +suggested—mischief.</p> + +<p>"Of course," I answered. "Brown-Bangs; Brown-Bangs!" +And I wondered how many witnesses I should +have to bribe now! I wished that in the first place I +had said: "It would be unfair to tell you what isn't so, +and dangerous to tell you what is!" But she would have +guessed the truth by that, to a certainty. Sinners always +find comfort in good resolutions, so I resolved to be +more circumspect in the future. A gentleman's duty +in my position was to be over circumspect; very much +over circumspect, indeed!</p> + +<p>Somewhat indifferently she laid the cigarette case +back upon the ground, happening to put it near a little +vine with lavender flowers, shaped like pon-pons; and in +doing this it also happened that one of its tiny briars +clung to her hand.</p> + +<p>"Watch," she cried, gaily leaning forward. "Watch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +the leaves! We call this the 'shame-face vine,' because +whenever it sticks any one every leaf on that particular +stem is overcome with remorse!"</p> + +<p>To my amazement the nine delicate leaves on the +offending stem began to hang their heads and curl up, +for all the world expressive of deep humility. It was +another of the million or so lessons to be found in +Nature for any one who sees with the right kind of +eyes. Of course, I could have hung my head for that +lie about the Browns, although curling up—at least, +after the manner of the shame-face vine—would have +required a contortionist.</p> + +<p>"A well named little weed," I laughed. "But what +wouldn't be penitent after hurting such a pretty hand!"</p> + +<p>"I was just wondering," she said, ignoring this +banality—for which in my heart I thanked her—"if +there are weeds that show embarrassment for people +who tell fibs?"</p> + +<p>Now there was no possible way for her to have +learned my name!</p> + +<p>"You don't think there was any fibbing when I said +you were a sure-'nough princess, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, let's not talk of that again," she entreated. +"I don't want to be a princess just yet, because +it's still very satisfying to have been taken away +from that awful place. I'm so humbly thankful to you," +she almost whispered, "that just Cinderella without the +slipper will suit me nicely."</p> + +<p>Beloved of the gods! If she wasn't at that moment +princess, queen and all the royal families made into +one!</p> + +<p>"But I must tell you this much," I insisted gently, +"and then we won't speak of it again until you wish. +Monsieur says your mother is only Regent until you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +come; that your destiny is marked out for you, that +by every law of God and man you've got to go back +and take up the Cross where you left it seventeen years +ago,—that you're booked to marry a Prince, I think. +And he's armed with an iron-bound authority to take +you. He says you've no possible escape—though, of +course, you won't want any. I have to tell you this," +I continued more hastily, for it was an extremely difficult +thing to say, "because I'm only an ordinary kind +of American chap, as bad as the worst and as good as +the best, but your court in Azuria would have forty +duck fits if it knew we were playing together in the +woods without a chaperone. Suppose you make me +your Chancellor, or something like that—chancellor of +your Oasian possessions! Then I can report for orders +and escort you about with all propriety, and we can +talk and laugh occasionally without having some big +soldier stick me in the back with his halberd."</p> + +<p>She had been listening attentively, gravely, to everything +I said until this last, when she burst into a scream +of laughter, rocking herself to and fro in a transport of +merriment.</p> + +<p>"You're the funniest thing I ever saw!—but so be +it, Mr. Jack Brown-Bangs, et cetera, et cetera! I make +you my Royal Chancellor, responsible for the welfare +of our Oasis!"</p> + +<p>"And for the protection of Your Serenity," I bowed, +really feeling as if I'd been knighted.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said gravely. "I couldn't ask for +a braver protector. But, Chancellor," she looked at me +with serious eyes, "why did you say I must take up my +Cross? It sounded like such a direful prophecy."</p> + +<p>My lips refused to speak. As a matter of fact, I +had been thinking more about my own Cross; how I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +should have to carry it after she went away until my +heart broke beneath its cruel weight.</p> + +<p>"That was a careless way of meaning something else," +I tried to answer lightly.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't say evasive things. It leads to speaking +with two tongues, which Echochee has taught me is +wrong."</p> + +<p>"Well, it couldn't be a direful prophecy, anyhow, +when your mother and your throne are waiting just +around the corner, as it were. The direful part of your +life has passed, and most appropriately your name has +changed from Doloria to Princess—though, of the two, +I prefer Doloria."</p> + +<p>"When it means sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"It only means sorrow to those you leave. You've +paid dearly enough to find nothing but happiness now +for the rest of your life. It's written in the sky."</p> + +<p>"You're a comforting Chancellor," she was still looking +at me calmly, "and I'm already beginning to forget." +And gently she laid her hand on the back of +my own which rested between us.</p> + +<p>My blood bounded with an unreasoning pleasure, yet +her movement had been neither temperamental nor +sentimental; it was instinctive—one of those honest impulses +that knows no sex. Did she realize, by some divine +insight, that this frankness, this absence of finical +conventions, this whole-hearted camaraderie, would +hold me more sternly to my path of duty than anything +else she might have done? Did the instinct of her sex +whisper that each man's heart, however light and worldly, +is the possessor of a trusty loadstone which draws +the best of him to a woman's aid when her honor is +placed unreservedly into his hands? This speaks, of +course, of men and not of human beasts; still, a woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +is not put to the peril of looking into the heart of a +human beast to discover that he is a beast—she can +read it, without glasses, in his face!</p> + +<p>"Shall we look over the rest of your estate?" I asked. +And I kept the hand until she had been helped up, then +released it naturally as we started on the tour of inspection.</p> + +<p>We finally came to my pool, and I asked her advice in +choosing a nearby spot where I should build a lean-to; +since our kitchen site, that until now had been the location +of my bailiwick, was by right of conquest hers, a +place where she should be able to approach without the +precaution of whistling like a plover—a thing she +couldn't do, anyway! So we marked a spot and started +on, taking some time to encircle the pool that, was rather +large and, upon this side, densely fringed with a riot of +tropical vines and jungle stuff. Yet, when we had gone +but a little way, she stopped, looked vaguely troubled, +and said:</p> + +<p>"You won't be as near to me here as you were at +the kitchen. I was so tired last night that I didn't +think very much about those men, because our servants +were leading them off. But don't you think it's possible +that some of them might wander back here on +their way home?"</p> + +<p>"There's hardly one chance in a thousand," I assured +her.</p> + +<p>"I know. But that one chance would be dreadful +if—if——" she stopped, and added wistfully: "I <i>would</i> +like to feel in the nights that you are nearer to me!"</p> + +<p>I turned to look at something else—at anything but +her! Yet if my eyes required a subterfuge my heart +did not, and it thrilled as if some wild musicians were +tugging at its strings making them sound impassioned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +harmonies. But, even as I stood swayed by the madness +of the moment, I felt that a great, an unseen, +presence had pinned a decoration upon my honor—not +because it had already proved itself, but in order that +it might do so.</p> + +<p>We therefore stopped and chose a new place on the +side nearer her spring, and that being settled—a most +important selection, we pretended it to be—she looked +up at me, crying happily:</p> + +<p>"After luncheon I'll come and help you build it!—and +then you'll cut a path straight from my tent to +yours so, should there be any danger, I can run to +you without stumbling!"</p> + +<p>For another moment, with eyes closed, I visualized my +new decoration.</p> + +<p>Luncheon, I thought, was even an improvement over +breakfast. Nor did I take so long to wash the dishes +afterwards.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SLEEPING BENEATH GOD'S TENT</h2> + + +<p>That afternoon we built the lean-to. I had had some +fair ideas about building a lean-to, but Doloria was in +possession of a practical knowledge gathered on camping +trips that she and Echochee had made—for these, +I judged, constituted one of her chief recreations since +childhood. She knew how to twist ropes of bark for +tying the poles, and how to interlay the palm fronds so +they would neither leak nor be lifted by the wind. She +took the keenest pleasure in it, too, and I can safely say +that never in my life have I enjoyed building anything +as much as that lean-to. When it was finished I stepped +back and, in a burst of admiration, cried:</p> + +<p>"It's a palace? I can't ever get along without you!"</p> + +<p>A wave of color came into her face, as instantaneous +as I believe it was unexpected, though she said in a matter +of fact tone:</p> + +<p>"There are other little things to be done, but we'll +finish them to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It's already the coziest place in the world," I insisted. +"Now I'm going to cut that path, and then +we'll have——" but I checked myself and looked at +her in some concern. She had worked over hard for +me—I had not realized it while we were busy; so now +I begged: "Won't you let me cook the dinner? I'm +afraid you're about dead!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, really I'm not. But I'm hungry and so are +you, and——" a little curve came into the corners of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +her mouth that was very tantalizing, "I think I'd better +cook it."</p> + +<p>"I was hoping you would," I admitted shamelessly, +"even if you are tired."</p> + +<p>"Purely a selfish decision on my part, I assure you," +she smiled. "I haven't forgotten the breakfast you +attempted."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'll cut you a nice straight path for a +nice big feed!"</p> + +<p>"And don't leave anything in it, will you, Chancellor! +It would be dreadful to come running to you +in the dark, and stumble and—and bump my nose!"</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" I cried. "It would be the end of the +world!"</p> + +<p>"Or the end of you," she laughed. "Now get to +work, and then you can build the kitchen fire. Don't +you think we might have dinner a little earlier to-night?"</p> + +<p>With this she left me; but how sweetly confidential +and domestic that had sounded: "Don't you think we +might have dinner a little earlier to-night?"</p> + +<p>I found her again, sitting on a fallen log and gazing +wistfully across the prairie toward the east, not back in +the direction of Efaw Kotee's den, and I felt that she +was thinking of Azuria—her Azuria. What visions +its existence must have opened to her, whose life had +been always passionate after dreams and utterly bored +with realities! Yet what were her dreams?</p> + +<p>She saw me and arose slowly, passing one hand across +her eyes as if brushing away the fancies; then I watched +an expression almost of tenderness as she came up to +me.</p> + +<p>"It isn't quite fair to interrupt," I said, "when you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +were having such a peaceful time of it; but the fire's +ready, and our supply of buttonwood shrinks."</p> + +<p>"Was I having such a peaceful time of it?" she +asked, wonderingly. "Perhaps it might have been if I +knew Echochee and your man are safe. Anyway, I'm +glad the fire's ready; I've been expecting you to call +me."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could give you the same assurance about +them that I feel myself. Try to think I'm right, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, really I will, good Chancellor," she smiled.</p> + +<p>On the way back we passed my pool, where she +kneeled ingenuously to bathe her hands and arms, as +chastely innocent as a mermaid.</p> + +<p>"Have you such a thing as a towel?" she laughed. +"Mine are in the tent!"</p> + +<p>I got it, and walked slowly on. And I realized again, +what I had once before noted, that overly refined proprieties—I +do not mean proprieties of the essential kind—cannot +endure between man and maid cast alone in a +wilderness. They become frail, insipid; and mar, rather +than perfect, the harmony of existence. Contraversely, +their absence adds a deeper luster, strikes the tuning-fork +that hums with the true note of life. Sorry the +man who does not feel a sympathetic vibration! A +woman is not exactly at her best when bathing her face +above a porcelain bowl, and to be the constant, daily +witness of such ablutions would, in my limited experience, +engender a slight unrest among the tuneful Nine. +Yet let her gracefully lean above a woodland pool, +roll back her sleeves and open the collar of her shooting +shirt, and she becomes a personification of glory to +him who waits near the fire he has built for their +evening meal. But she must have looked danger in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +face with him, slept near him beneath the stars; knowing, +should she be affrighted in the night, that her call +will bring his reassuring answer, but also knowing that +the voice is all that will ever come unbidden to her +side. And thus is the Cave-man in him gloriously +aroused to guard her from Nature's wild, while the +poetry of their intercourse guards her from himself. +What more beautiful existence than to live alone in a +forest with the girl you love!</p> + +<p>I thought that after dinner it might be well to sit +again beside the fort where we could watch the prairie. +There is a comforting sense of security that comes to one +at nightfall when one has looked in all directions and +found all things well. So for a while she left me to the +orgy of washing dishes, but when I had turned the last +plate top down upon our kitchen log to dry, I saw her +returning.</p> + +<p>She came humming a tune, a catchy tune—I recognized +it at once—that the mandolins had tinkled in the +Havana café, and from the mischievous curves about +the corners of her mouth I knew that her mood was +adorable. So I caught up the tune, whistling softly, +and crossed to her holding out my hands.</p> + +<p>"It's a corking fox-trot," I said, for the moment +stopping our orchestra. "Let's dance it!"</p> + +<p>But she drew back, laughing outright.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how!"</p> + +<p>"Don't dance?" I must have looked my amazement, +for she answered:</p> + +<p>"I've often danced, all alone, when I just couldn't +help it; but there hasn't been any one to teach me your +kind!"</p> + +<p>"I will," I cried delightedly. "We'll begin with +that fox-trot!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We'd look awfully silly," she replied. "Besides, +the name of your dance is atrocious."</p> + +<p>I felt rather thankful that I hadn't suggested the +shimmy.</p> + +<p>"That may get you out of it now," I announced, +"but when we reach the yacht I'm going to teach you +ten hours a day. Understand?—ten hours a day!"</p> + +<p>Again came the tantalizing expression, as she daintily +caught her skirt and made me a royal curtsey, saying:</p> + +<p>"It's beyond all measure charming of you, Chancellor. +But shall I be so difficult?"</p> + +<p>"Don't joke about a wonderful prospect," I answered. +"You're difficult because of your grace, not +the lack of it—if that's what you mean!" But from +her indifferent way of dismissing the subject I judged +it was not what she had meant, at all.</p> + +<p>The sun must have set while we were encircling +my pool. Then we passed on into a still denser growth, +following a crooked path that led to the fort—entering +a mysterious shadow-land that twilights have the trick +of producing when overhead foliage shuts out the afterglow +and the serene forest gloom is painted in tones of +gray. The soft earth we trod was dark, and the water +lay phantom-like in its black bowl. Except for the few +times I held aside a swinging wildwood vine for her to +pass, we might have been two drifting spirits—so quietly +did we move, and so unknowingly were we affected by +the hour, the place.</p> + +<p>At the edge of our forest, where that long ago prairie +fire had blighted a grove of palm trees that subsequently +fell upon each other like an entangled pile of jackstraws, +she took my hand to get across and, freed from +the clinging shadows, we ran out beneath the sky—then +gasped in amazement at its splendor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was not a sunset, not an afterglow in the usual +sense of afterglows, but a sky of deep, smouldering red +equally distributed from horizon to horizon; as though +everywhere below the world a conflagration raged. I +could not at first speak for the grandeur of it, and when +I turned to her words were again checked by the look +upon her face. For this dull, permeating glow—this +enchantment from the heavens—touched her brow, her +cheeks, her parted lips, with a light that aroused in me +a thousand devils and a thousand gods; it lingered over +her hair as if striving to concentrate itself into a halo +there; and in her eyes that gazed afar were suggested +the awakening of deeper fires, of wilder mysteries.</p> + +<p>"God, what a sky," I at last exclaimed, through sheer +panic at the imminence of crying aloud my love for +her.</p> + +<p>"What a sky, O God," she whispered, delicately turning +my profane outburst to a sigh of thankfulness.</p> + +<p>But, better than she, I knew the meaning of that +sky. I knew that down over the western edge of the +world blazed a huge funeral pyre on which my past +was being changed to harmless ashes; while in the east +flames were already lighted beneath the on-coming crucible +of destiny, from whose purifying heat a new love +arose. Farther into obscurity would sink the one; up +and on would come the other; and so the sky was now +roseate unto its zenith, reflecting the glory of these +miracles. I followed the look of her eyes and saw, high +against the red, a lone crane flying majestically homeward +to the seclusion of his swamp; and it typified my +own belated heart that, without questioning the whence +or why, unerringly obeyed a silent voice which called it +to another sanctuary.</p> + +<p>I wanted to tell her this, but dared not. And so we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +stood, spellbound, while the night brought out the blue—and +the young moon changed from red to silver—and +the stars came down to take their places. Then +slowly we passed on and sat by the fort, leaning our +backs against it; in meditation looking across the prairie +that had become so changed a place to us.</p> + +<p>The night grew sweet with the purity of untouched +wilderness as, shoulder to shoulder, we sat talking in low +tones of Smilax and Echochee. She had wondered about +them no few times that day, and now I, too, felt some +concern. Yet the Everglades lay far eastward and, for +any reason giving up Big Cove, I knew he would plunge +as deeply into it as his pursuers dared follow. To-morrow +would be time enough to worry, I assured her, +so we talked about Monsieur, the Azurian throne, and—I +could not help it—of another Chancellor who would +build her kitchen fires. But I tried to keep all bitterness +from my words. In the vague light I could see +that her face was serious, and very tender. Then for +a time we sat without speaking.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the place, the charm; perhaps a magic +was working stronger than I knew; but words came to +my lips that I stubbornly refused to speak. I fought +against them; they, too, fought with grim insistence; +so as a compromise, looking straight ahead and pretending +to jest even while I accused, I said:</p> + +<p>"You've been listening!"</p> + +<p>"Listening?" Her eyes opened prettily, alert as +they always were to parry banter with banter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, listening—at the keyhole like a common gossip. +A nice pastime for a Princess, surely!"</p> + +<p>"At the—keyhole?" She was proceeding warily +now; her mind, as in a game of hide-and-seek, was on +tiptoe, in expectation of discovering me at every step.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," I repeated. "And you heard my heart admitting +that it's happy—to've found something it was +hungry for."</p> + +<p>For the briefest instant I thought a tremor ran +through her shoulder, as if a little chilly sensation had +rippled her nerves. But it was a silly idea, because +she lightly replied:</p> + +<p>"Corn cakes, maybe. It ought to feel quite stuffed +after the seven you had for dinner."</p> + +<p>"Six," I corrected.</p> + +<p>"Seven," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"But I know!"</p> + +<p>"So do I," she laughed, "that you stole one from +my plate when you thought I wasn't looking."</p> + +<p>"I needed that one."</p> + +<p>"I never doubted it," she agreed.</p> + +<p>Wild words again sprang to my lips, but this time +I ruthlessly strangled them. Yet I wanted to say: "I +took from you because you stole from me!" And I +wanted to ask—O, shades of suffering Dante, how I +longed to ask!—if her dear heart were hungering, too, +that she should have needed my own to feed it!—if that +were her excuse for thievery!</p> + +<p>But already I had overstepped my resolution, although +not feeling desperately contrite about it after +the sleight-of-hand way that a declaration of love had +been changed into the accusation of filching a corn +cake. Yet it had been a narrow escape and I thanked +my gods for the chance of pulling up, of again getting +the right perspective.</p> + +<p>To tell her anything at all before Echochee came +would be the act of an utterly selfish cad, for if she +did not want my love—and there was little enough reason +to suppose that she did—her position would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +intolerable. In such an eventuality never again could +we sit beside the fort on nights like this, no longer +would she want a cleared path leading to her bailiwick. +We would be as two estranged creatures doomed to live +near yet apart; each a daily witness of the other's unhappiness; +neither able by word or deed to give relief. +Ah, I was glad she did not even suspect that I cared a +whit for her! I lit my pipe and in moody silence +smoked.</p> + +<p>A pipe stem is a safe thing for man to grip his teeth +upon when silence is a virtue. Here in our forest I was +master, the undisputed superior force; and I wondered +with a fascinating wonder how that ancestor, who +climbed down from his tree at nightfall, would have +been greeting her! I visualized his cunning face, now +peering at me through the ages, leering at me with bared +tusks, bidding me take what was my own by right of +might! I felt the savage splendor of it. The wildness +of this place, its solitude, its distance from mankind, +supported me. The cry of a night bird out on +the prairie told that it, too, was preying, or being +preyed upon; and, as if being stirred by this, a panther +sent his wail across the night. I listened for a mate to +answer, but she did not. A large, whitish moth flying +out of the shadows passed clumsily within a few inches +of my face, its wings swishing as a bird's; and it, too, +was without a mate.</p> + +<p>Then, as in the following silence I continued to listen, +some far off words came back to me. They came as the +scent of lavender comes when rain is pattering on the +shingles, and some one opens the old trunk that, ever +since you can remember, has stood back under the rafters +of the sloping roof; the hallowed old trunk where a +veil of yellowing lace is stored—a piece of white satin, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +blue or gray faded uniform, and maybe a wee shoe, and +a lock of hair. Every one who has leaned above that +trunk—and thank God they are legion!—has also listened +to a voice coming faintly through the past. And +so words out of a lesser past now came to me, as they +were meant to be written on a torn wine card: "I am +in danger!"</p> + +<p>She had been in danger of a brute, and had offered the +safety of her keeping to me. And the vision of my +savage ancestor, though retreating sullenly, faded into +nothing. Then I felt her body press against me softly +and, looking down, I saw that she had fallen asleep, +with her head—precious, trusting thing—resting against +my shoulder.</p> + +<p>For an hour I sat motionless, fearing to awake her. +Finally one of my legs went to sleep, and soon my other +leg. Yet it was a welcome discomfort because endured +for her. And I suppose the numbness must eventually +have crept the length of my body, for, I, too, slept; +awaking, I did not know how much later, to find her +gone.</p> + +<p>Then I stumbled back to my lean-to, but did not go +inside. This was not the night, nor mine the mood, +to shut high heaven from my eyes, my thoughts, the +lambent flame of my love? So I chose the open, and lay +on my back gazing up into the silhouetted palm fronds, +catching glimpses of a star that here or there peeped +through at me, steeping my thoughts in solitude.</p> + +<p>For it was that hushed hour of betwixt and between, +when crickets, tree-toads and other little creatures of +the darkness have wearied themselves to rest; yet also +before the daylight life has stirred from its own deep +sleep. The silent hour, this is; the one hour in the +round of time when nature seems to be absolutely poised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +in breathless space; when the pendulum of night hangs +dead, and dawn is still a great way over the hill. I +shared its mysticism, feeling also a rich contentment +that she, too, was lying near me somewhere in this same +solitude; dreaming, with her cheek upon her arm; her +hair kissed by the same dew that cooled my face. I +could not, of course, reach out my hand and touch her, +but the path led straight; and along this now my heart +went begging—impoverished rascal! He went on tiptoe, +begging; while I continued to watch for the elusive +star, and my soul looked into the level eyes of God.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<h2>PLANTING A MEMORY</h2> + + +<p>A searching look next morning over the prairie revealed +no sign of enemies, or of Smilax. Somewhat +thoughtful over his continued absence I went to the +kitchen and laid the fire, but did not light it because our +stock of buttonwood had become reduced to a few small +sticks and scraps that would scarcely more than cook one +meal, and the use of other woods might at this time be +an unwise experiment. So with an eye to prudence I +withheld the match until Her Serene Highness should +arrive.</p> + +<p>When she did not come nor answer to my call, I set +out to see what might have detained her, conscious of a +vague dread yet not seriously giving in to it; but, after +visiting the fort, this grew into an unreasoning fear, +and I began to run. It seemed so easy now to understand +how some of Efaw Kotee's henchmen could have +discovered us, slipped up during the night and overpowered +her! What had been a remote possibility +yesterday, to-day grew into a certainty. With this obsession +torturing me I dashed across the Oasis, finally +coming out of the forest at its extreme eastern tip.</p> + +<p>Then I saw her but a few yards away. Perhaps the +brisk wind, rustling the palms and prairie grass, +drowned the noise of my impetuous rush, for she did +not turn.</p> + +<p>Her face was toward the east, looking above an orange +sun that still clung to the horizon. Instinctively I felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +that she was thinking of Azuria, that the pictures of it +which I had drawn were recrossing before her dreamy +vision, forming a panorama of splendor that called more +surely than in March the Canadian flats call the Southern +water bird. This gave her eyes, her uplifted face, +her slightly parted lips, a new glory, and I involuntarily +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Doloria of the Golden Dawn!"</p> + +<p>She knew then that I was there and, without turning, +reached back one hand to me. Impulsively I took it, +raised it to my lips, but afraid to hold it longer I +stepped aside as if awaiting her commands. When I +had done that she looked over her shoulder, gave a little +sigh, and said sweetly:</p> + +<p>"Chancellor, I wish you'd convince me that our people +are safe, and then help me settle a grave question of +state!"</p> + +<p>"I think they'll be coming to-day, and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope so!" she clasped her hands.</p> + +<p>"As for the state question," I continued, "I'll settle +it quickly, if you'll let me."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm afraid you can't! No, Chancellor," she +gave a little laugh, "you can't be trusted to settle that, +at all!" Then firmly, almost severely, putting back +into its place a wave of hair that had been coquetting +with the breeze, she asked: "Is the fire ready?"</p> + +<p>"Ready to light," I answered. "I came to find you."</p> + +<p>"Then let's go, for it isn't good to ponder over questions +of state before breakfast."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" I asked, as we turned back. "Why +won't you trust me to settle it?"</p> + +<p>Another laugh, more full of pathos, was my answer; +nor would she speak again—because of some mischief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +in her mind, I believed—until, preparing the ambrosial +corncakes, she rather abruptly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you deserve any breakfast this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" I cried, in feigned alarm.</p> + +<p>"Because of your impoliteness."</p> + +<p>"My impoliteness was doubtless the need of breakfast. +But when was I impolite? I don't remember, +honest!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, you don't; how could you," she went on +rather indifferently. "Were you not such a capable +Chancellor I might be more offended. I am tryingly +stupid at times, but to be in the very middle of a +sentence and discover that the man I'm talking to is +fast asleep, is humiliating, to say the least."</p> + +<p>Did she think there was a chance of putting over that +atrocious yarn on me—of bluffing me into an admission +that I had been the first to fall asleep?</p> + +<p>"You may be right," I said, with the utmost gravity, +"but I did it only in justice to you. You were talking, +true enough, but in <i>your</i> sleep; saying things that—well, +no gentleman could have remained awake, in the +circumstances."</p> + +<p>"I didn't," she cried, darting me a look of uncertainty. +"Echochee says I never do!"</p> + +<p>"Echochee wasn't here last night," I casually replied, +poking the coals of her fire closer. "I hope you +understand that I didn't listen intentionally; for, of +course, you'd never have told me all those things——"</p> + +<p>"Stop it," she commanded; and, when I had stopped, +there was an ominous silence.</p> + +<p>But I would not look at her and indifferently pretended +to be busy. I confess that I was deriving a +purely masculine enjoyment out of this, and intended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +to push my counter bluff so vigorously that she would +be driven to admit her own. Therefore, after I thought +the silence had become sufficiently impressive, I yielded +to an impulse that many men find irresistible—I made +an egregious ass of myself.</p> + +<p>"Lots of people," said I, sliding out upon thin ice +with the braggadocio of him who rocks the boat, "chatter +like magpies when dozing in an uncomfortable position. +Police recognize this, and often arrange a suspect's +cell so he'll have to sleep sitting up, then they +listen and take down his inmost thoughts. That's the +way you chattered last night."</p> + +<p>"Chattered!" she caught her breath.</p> + +<p>"Yes; just rippled along, you know, telling everything +you've been thinking these last couple of days. +Some of it was rather interesting. Shall I poke up the +fire again?"</p> + +<p>"Rather interesting!" She sprang around and faced +me with blazing eyes, the picture of embarrassment and +fury. "You consider the things I've been thinking +the last couple of days 'rather interesting!' Oh," she +cried, dashing the pan of corn meal batter to the +ground, "you're damnable—I hate you!" There was a +whirl of a skirt, the twinkle of a little booted foot, and, +by Jove, she had gone flying off like the wind; while I, +feeling about the size of a june-bug, stood first on one +leg and then the other, wondering what the devil she had +been thinking these last couple of days.</p> + +<p>Now, when a fellow has made a blatant ass of himself, +I hold that the quickest road to salvation is "own +up and shut up." If he's forgiven, life may flow on +as formerly. If he isn't, he has recourse to the pose of +having been grossly misunderstood, and eventually work +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>himself into quite a creditable reproduction of a martyred +nobleman. If he's good at that kind of thing, +a girl will grow sorry and forgive him in spite of herself. +I got this from Tommy, one day, and Tommy +knows a lot about women—really, an awful lot.</p> + +<p>But the most detestable part of my present muddle +was that I had hurt her—I, who would have bartered +my life to shield her from hurts! Feeling thoroughly +contrite I went quickly in pursuit, looking ahead and +on both sides for a glimpse of the dress that meant the +world to me. Regardless of boundaries, regardless of +everything but to implore an instant forgiveness at +whatever cost, I rushed impetuously on, calling her +name.</p> + +<p>Then I came up with her at the side of the bubbling +spring. She was lying prone upon the bank, her face +buried in her arms that were crossed beneath it. And, +having found her, I could not advance. Something +about the lovely grace of her body held me enthralled. +Furthermore, I had no right to be here; I was an interloper, +a prowler! There were but two things to do, +and do at once, to wit, make myself humble and scarce.</p> + +<p>"Doloria," I said.</p> + +<p>She did not move, perhaps she had not heard, so I +kneeled and took one of her hands, whereupon she +sprang to her feet looking at me strangely, wildly.</p> + +<p>"You've no right here," she cried. "You've broken +faith!"</p> + +<p>"No, please no," I said quickly. "I'm too desperate +to care where I am when you're angry! Since you called +me damnable—said you hated me—the world's turned +black; so I'm not deliberately trespassing—only lost, +because you've taken away your smile!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> took it away," she retorted. "You'd murder +any girl's smile by such—brutality!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Brutality!" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Truthfulness," she stamped her foot.</p> + +<p>"But I wasn't truthful," I hurried to tell her. "I +lied like the devil to call your bluff—wanted to make +you own up because—well, you'd lied a little, too! I +never dreamed my joke would hurt you. Great God," +I now cried passionately, "to think of hurting you who +are my life and breath and——" I caught myself, stopping +short and looking at her; then slowly adding: "You +didn't say a word in your sleep, I swear it. It was +beautiful of you to trust me that way, and—and if you'll +rescue our breakfast I'll never be such an idiot again."</p> + +<p>She had partly turned away at my impassioned outburst, +but the assurance I gave that Somnus had been +dumb brought a hint of the fascinating curve to her +lips. Yet her eyes still expressed doubt, and I was +growing desperate enough even to humor her incredulity, +hoping thereby to discover another road to favor, when +she asked:</p> + +<p>"You're not just saying that?"</p> + +<p>"On my honor it's true—every word! I'm sorry, +Princess!"</p> + +<p>Again she turned away her face, looking across the +spring and murmuring, as though to someone there:</p> + +<p>"It's because he's hungry, I suppose,"—then whirled +and held out both hands to me, in that sweet way of +hers. "It's I who am cruel, Chancellor. Come, poor +man, I'll feed you; you look as glum as Pharaoh—was +Pharaoh glum? I'll beat you to the kitchen!" And +she bounded away, almost before the challenge had been +given.</p> + +<p>Straight she sped with astonishing swiftness, skimming +over fallen logs, darting this way and that through +festoons of vines, with the grace of a frightened doe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +In freedom of motion she was as some wild thing of +forest birth, suggesting the spirits of the wind, the +dappled sunlight, the dancing waters; yet never lacking +an ineffable refinement that added both charm and +mystery.</p> + +<p>Each of us was breathing fast when, shoulder to +shoulder, we reached the fire, she claiming the race +without the slightest show of embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"But I was holding back," I said, finding combativeness +a very fair outlet to pursue, and adding: "You +had the start, too!"</p> + +<p>"In a race any one has the start who's able to get +it," she asserted. "Besides, I set the pace, and all +you had to do was follow. I slowed up toward the end, +anyway."</p> + +<p>The impertinence of it!</p> + +<p>"You slowed up because you had to! And I don't +believe you were angry a while ago, either!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" she asked, slowly.</p> + +<p>"Not so very," I compromised, seeing the danger +signal. "I think you were just making a jolly chump +of me, that's all. I don't so much mind making one +of myself, but it's rotten having other people do it for +me!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she said indifferently, raising her arms +to tuck in a lock of hair, "that if it's worthwhile making +the distinction, you might be allowed a choice."</p> + +<p>For the pure deviltry of this remark I looked around +for something to throw at her, and then saw our fire—a +tragic picture of dead ashes which the wind was +blowing over a now cold skillet.</p> + +<p>"See," I cried, "what our family row has led to! +Fire out, breakfast ruined, and here I am due at the +office in half an hour!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack," she looked at me gravely, putting an +end to our banter—and for the first time calling me +Jack, though I believe she did it unconsciously—"haven't +we any more buttonwood? This is serious, +isn't it!"</p> + +<p>"Not so very, perhaps. We can try another kind."</p> + +<p>"Will it be safe?" she asked, uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"With a small fire of very dry hardwood, and this +rising wind, what little smoke there is won't hold together +long enough to be seen."</p> + +<p>"But it'll blow right toward their camp! The wind's +changed since yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"That's more than two miles off, and they're probably +still after Smilax. I'll make a very small fire."</p> + +<p>This, indeed, seemed to work well enough, and by the +time a new breakfast was ready our uncertainties had +become shadows of no consequence.</p> + +<p>"But you <i>do</i> know I was angry, don't you?" she +asked, out of a clear sky, with an unexpectedness that +made me throw back my head and laugh.</p> + +<p>"You bet I do! And you beat me in the race, too; +and you're the best cook on our block!"</p> + +<p>"It seems to be the same old story," she smiled, with +affected sorrow, "that food must always be the price of +masculine tractability. Ah, the long drawn out tragedy +of woman's existence, that she must forever be stuffing +man with things to eat, as reptiles are stuffed, to keep +him facile!"</p> + +<p>"You fail to observe, my little snake charmer," I +replied, "that you omitted to say good things to eat. +I'm never facile after Smilax feeds me."—Though I +owe Smilax an apology for this!</p> + +<p>"He must have run great risks of being bitten."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I'm not the biting kind of snake! I'm +a constrictor—I hug!"</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" She gave a little gasp, then, turned and +went indifferently toward the spring.</p> + +<p>Whistling happily I finished the dishes. But I +finished them with the promise of a better cleansing next +time, and soon was calling her.</p> + +<p>She came to me humming the song I had been whistling—an +unconscious bit of flattery on her part, but it added +to my pleasure. There is, after all, so much to be +gained by hitching your wagon to a star, that I tried +to believe she deliberately intended it. I would have +hitched up oftener to that same star, except for the +fact that stars sometimes get hot and furious at too +many liberties, and switch their tails and kick the +wagons of well-meaning people to smithereens. That +it may be better to have had a stellar joy-ride and be +sent to hell for speeding than keep your boots forever +in the clay, I will neither affirm nor deny; but the prudent +man hitcheth to the moon!</p> + +<p>As we went toward the fort she turned to me, asking:</p> + +<p>"Don't you think they should have been here sooner? +Do you fear anything you won't tell me?" Her eyes +were anxious, and I saw how insistent this worry had +been.</p> + +<p>"Everything depends on how far Smilax had to go," +I answered. "He'd never dream of coming back until +the men gave up—and they might chase him half across +the state! So a few extra days doesn't mean anything. +They can't catch him, that's certain; and he and Echochee'll +only stay away as long as they're pursued. +They'll come through, I believe it sincerely; and your +Chancellor, sweet Princess, will guard you with his +life—with ten lives, if he had them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know that," she murmured, "and shan't worry +if you tell me not to."</p> + +<p>"Then cheer up! Smilax is a past-master of the +swamps and woods, take my word for it!"</p> + +<p>"I really suppose Echochee knows a great deal about +them, too," she said, after a pause, "for when she was +sixteen she had to leave the Reservation with her husband +and hide him in the Everglades. She learned +a great deal, then."</p> + +<p>"Why did she have to do that?"</p> + +<p>"He'd fought and killed another Indian, and the +officers were expected. But in the fight he received +a cut that made him blind. For ten years Echochee +fed and clothed him, hunting alligators and watching +her chance of slipping the skins to a market. By extreme +stinting she finally saved enough to 'buy him +loose'—her optimistic way of saying 'pay a lawyer for +his defense.' Think, after being outcasts all that time, +of leading a blind husband through half a hundred +miles of wilderness, with the savings of ten years +to wager on a chance of having him cleared!"</p> + +<p>"I hope he was," I declared.</p> + +<p>"In a sense he was, yes. He knew where she kept +the money, and while she was in the lawyer's office +persuading him to take the case, her husband stole it +and sneaked away."</p> + +<p>I uttered a cry at this hideous ingratitude, and she +glanced at me, gravely adding:</p> + +<p>"Then he got drunk and was run over by a train; so, +in a sense, Echochee freed him, after all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the magnanimous courage of a woman's devotion!" +I stopped and looked at her. "It's always the +same, irrespective of tribe and nation. She's dauntless, +world-defying, utterly self-sacrificing. I hope to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +God, Doloria, that you won't be among those who +squeeze their hearts dry! You've lived away from the +world and may not know how plentiful these are; but +no day passes without its toll of some woman being +silently crucified in her losing fight to save a besotted +biped—the lord of her earthly temple. It's only by a +streak of luck when their stage is cleared, as Echochee's +was!"</p> + +<p>"That may be all right for clearing the stage," she +murmured, "but it doesn't heal the hearts of those +who were made to suffer."</p> + +<p>I had not fathomed the penetration of her sympathy, +being satisfied, man like, to let a swift revenge wipe +the slate. She seemed to be contemplating what I had +said, and when she again spoke her voice was tender +as though it had come unbidden from a wistful reverie.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're right, Jack. The world I've +known, only through books, must be full of such cruelties. +I rather dread having to go into it. It seems a +pity that I can't always live in—in——" then, with +a smile, she asked: "Do you ever dream? I don't mean +when you're asleep, but awake—wide awake?"</p> + +<p>"I rather think I'm dreaming now," I admitted, for +a great contentment had fallen about us as we walked +beneath the solemn trees.</p> + +<p>The silence that followed was again stirred by her +voice, saying:</p> + +<p>"You mustn't think me childish, but I've always had +a secret gateway to a place—my Secret world—where +everything is make-believe, and nothing can be but +truth and beauty. Often when Echochee was tiresome, +or I was tired, I used to slip away and go there."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd take me—won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't," she quickly answered, stooping for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +flower in our path, holding it in both hands and leaning +her face above it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," at last I said, "I've a place like that; but I +don't know whether I live there in make-believe, or +throwing off the make-believe we have to wear in the +world you're going to, I live honestly with myself. If +you won't take me to yours, sometime maybe you'll +come to mine!"</p> + +<p>Now, I had no intention of making love to her. We +were talking only about secret worlds and day-dreams.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it might be difficult," she answered, +dropping the flower and walking a shade more slowly. +"Our lives—yours and mine—are cast along such opposite +lines, it seems!"</p> + +<p>"That's what Secret worlds are for," I told her, +"——that, no matter how far apart we are, our spirits +may come and meet; live again, as we've lived here; +be happy again—as I've been." I turned, saying with +a laugh that was meant to convey an impression of insouciance—yet +failing rather miserably: "These two +big pines here, Princess, actually make the gateway to +my pool—which is, in fact, my Secret world, because +you helped me build my home there. So, you see, it +wouldn't be very difficult, as you were about to enter +without knowing it. Oh, I wish I could tell you more +about it!" And I then became silent, too helplessly +afraid to go on.</p> + +<p>A brighter color had come into her throat and cheeks, +but she was smiling whimsically as she said:</p> + +<p>"Then we must go around—find another path to the +fort—mustn't we!"</p> + +<p>She had stopped before me, poised delicately, almost +swaying; and for several seconds our eyes, that must +have been charged with some untranslatable excitement,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +held fast. Mine would not let go, and hers I believe +could not. Her hands, idly at her sides, were turned +palms forward, unconsciously suggestive of supplication.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you remind me of when you stand +that way?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No," She looked away now, laughing lightly—though +it was more subtly than suddenly done. +"What?"</p> + +<p>"Of a fairy that's flown from a butterfly moon, just +alighting at my threshold and asking to come in."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't a fairy be unseemly forward to come to +a young man's threshold and ask admittance?"</p> + +<p>"Not admittance, but admission—to my dreams, +where nothing is real but you and beauty."</p> + +<p>"Dreams are for the old, the young shall see visions!—isn't +there a quotation like that?" she asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You're not playing fair," I laughed—for I was +afraid not to laugh, wanting desperately to say that I +was seeing the vision now that would be my dream forever!</p> + +<p>"I'll play fair if I know the rules," she also laughed. +"You haven't told them to me!"</p> + +<p>"We'll make them up as we go along!"</p> + +<p>"But what are we going to play?"</p> + +<p>"Make-believe," I eagerly cried. "That we're exploring +our Secret world where we'll come after,"—there +was no laugh in my voice now—"you've gone to +Azuria, and I'm here alone."</p> + +<p>She gave my face a quick, searching look.</p> + +<p>"And we only have to pass between these two big +trees?" she asked, half lightly, half timidly.</p> + +<p>"Only through that gateway, and we're in our +world!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why should I go, I wonder?" The question was +whispered, almost unconsciously, and catching the tone +of it I also whispered:</p> + +<p>"To plant a memory, Doloria, that will grow and +bloom as long as we live; where each of us may come—when +we're lonely."</p> + +<p>What forces, intangible, supernal, were at work here +no man can tell. Philosophers stumble, fools blunder, +and the truth dances on ahead through Life's woodland +of mysteries—one instant revealing itself in a +golden shaft of sunlight, hiding the next with smothered +laughter in the black shadow of a fern, while seekers +after it tramp past in grumbling blindness.</p> + +<p>At this moment our wood seemed rich with mystic +presage. Pleadingly my hands went out to her, and +trustfully she put hers into them. Slowly I backed +between the two big trees, our eyes held as two charmed +beings. Everything about me called to her, everything +in her urged compliance; and I knew, as did she, that +something strange was happening. Yet when I halted +she did not falter, but came on, bravely, sweetly, into +my arms.</p> + +<p>That she should have done this was as inevitable +as it was gloriously true. We could no more have continued +to stroll side by side through our Oasis, commenting +on the seasons, sometimes rapturous over a sunset +or the call of a bird, than we could have rubbed a +lamp and brought the <i>Whim</i> sailing to us over the sea +of grass. Static existences only prevail with static +people, and there was too much surgingly dynamic +about this twenty year old girl to have encouraged it +here. I say, too, with candor that any man of twenty-six +whose blood is red is—with the great out-of-doors +abetting—not insulated for or against currents. Throw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +these two alone in a primitive world where their tent is +the sky, and a spark must eventually jump across the +gradually lessening distance. It is thus that wild things +mate—and their mating is incorruptible.</p> + +<p>But now as my arms tightened and my face leaned to +hers, she gave a half fearful cry and sprang tremblingly +back, pressing both hands to her breast, breathing +quickly and staring at me with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>"Chancellor," she gasped, "this is madness, don't +you know it?"</p> + +<p>The quick alarm in her voice sobered me and I answered +"Yes," for there was nothing else to say. And +a moment later when, in an even tone and at a conventional +distance, she suggested: "Shall we go on +to the fort?" I did not reply, but walked mutely at +her side.</p> + +<p>Our contact had been too instantaneous for me to +collect myself at once, and I wondered how she was +managing to do so—or if she were bluffing. For this +sudden serene-mindedness she now displayed was quite +too enigmatic for my comprehension.</p> + +<p>"We planted the memory that will be mine forever," +I whispered, trying to see her face which she kept +partially hid by keeping half a step ahead of me. "I'll +never forget our——"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she cried, on the verge of tears, I thought, +"don't ever speak to me of it again—ever!"</p> + +<p>"It's nothing we ought to regret—it wasn't your +fault," I persisted,——</p> + +<p>"That's just it—it was my fault, it was," she interrupted +passionately, and somehow her hand found mine +and pressed it. Was there ever any one more square? +"I knew we were going to—do that, and I didn't try to +stop it. You'll think that I'm—I'm——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The most glorious girl who ever lived," I cried, taking +full possession of her hand now.</p> + +<p>"Won't you please be honest?" she asked, quite seriously. +"I am; and I give you my word I'd never +have done it if it hadn't seemed so real—I mean, our +planting the memory."</p> + +<p>She turned then, and to my relief she was half smiling. +For an instant the longing to hold her again +showed in my face, but she stopped me with a look. This +time it was done with the intention of stopping me, and +I stopped. Yet the smile had not left her face as she +said, in a tone of sweet confidence:</p> + +<p>"Let's be above-the-board-honest with each other in +all things, Jack; it makes for long friendships, Echochee +says—and there's nothing finer, anyhow, than to +freely admit a mistake. So it wasn't your fault any +more than mine; we've both been very naughty spirits, +and we mustn't be again." She paused, adding: "After +all, I suppose it does make our secret world just +a little——"</p> + +<p>I waited, and when she did not continue, asked:</p> + +<p>"A little what?"</p> + +<p>Still she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Be honest," I warned.</p> + +<p>She smiled again, looking at me frankly.</p> + +<p>"Well, a little sweeter, to feel that we're equally to +blame; that that's why we can't ever go there again."</p> + +<p>"Eden up-to-date?" I laughed.</p> + +<p>"Y-yes, I suppose so; and the flaming sword has +smote us, so we have to be circumspect forever and +ever."</p> + +<p>"But Eve wasn't! The flaming sword didn't phaze +her a minute!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've had lots of time to improve on Eve," she replied +archly.</p> + +<p>"That's God's truth," I cried.</p> + +<p>A rippling laugh burst from her lips—a ringing, +happy laugh that was heard, I swear, in listening heaven. +She seemed obsessed by a strange excitement—perhaps +like my own, that sprang from a deep, inordinate sense +of pleasure.</p> + +<p>We were getting on toward the fort, walking inside +the edge of our Oasis near that place where the fallen +palms lay in a confused tangle. I had her hand and +was helping her over this network of logs when she suddenly +sprang before me with dazzling quickness; facing +outward, and holding back her arms to keep me in +check.</p> + +<p>It was an act instinctive of protection, yet scarcely +had I time to wonder at it when a whining, crackling +sound, that might have come from anywhere, dashed +past our heads. Men who have heard a high-power +bullet splitting the air do not forget the sound, which +is as quickly recognized a second time as the rattling +of a diamond-back.</p> + +<p>Immediately following it came the crack of a rifle, +and guided by this I saw, above the prairie grass four +hundred yards away, the head and shoulders of a man. +At that instant he fired again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<h2>I LOVE YOU</h2> + + +<p>To be transported instantly from the essence of happiness +to the brink of tragedy—and a tragedy wherein +the whole of one's world goes tottering—engenders a +confusion of mind that for a moment leaves one helpless. +And thus it was that the second bullet flashed by +us before I sufficiently gathered my wits to act, to realize +that some returning member of Efaw Kotee's band +had stumbled on our little paradise.</p> + +<p>I caught Doloria and swung her behind me, at the +same time drawing my automatic and sending two quick +shots, aimed high, toward the scoundrel who was making +ready to try his hand again. Almost at once he +disappeared, though I knew he had not been hit for it +was extremely doubtful if, at that range, a revolver +bullet could reach him at all. For the sake of caution +he was merely crouching in the grass, and waiting.</p> + +<p>Then I became swept by an inordinate anger; a +natural enough feeling in a man whose life has been +sneakingly attempted, but let a life that is a million +times more precious than his own be so fired upon and +he will pass the limit of human rage. With an oath I +pushed her down into a niche of temporary safety, saying:</p> + +<p>"Stay there till I come back!"</p> + +<p>Immediately I began to scramble over the network +of fallen logs; my intention being to reach the high grass +and, dropping to my hands and knees, crawl out to meet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +him—as, in all probability, he was now crawling toward +us. But before I got free of the entanglements she +had sprung after me and caught my arm, crying:</p> + +<p>"It's insane for you to go out there—with only your +automatic against his rifle! Come back!"</p> + +<p>"Go back yourself," I said sternly, shaking off her +grasp. "Crouch in the hole, as I told you! Quick!"</p> + +<p>"I won't—unless you do, too! For the love of God—he'll +<i>kill</i> you!" This last she screamed, frantically +catching hold of me again as the man fired a third shot +and we felt the breath of his bullet on our faces.</p> + +<p>Both of us knew that this was no time for argument, +and she began tugging at my belt like a wild thing, bracing +herself to keep me back and showing no disposition +to obey. So without ceremony I picked her up intending +to shove her down between the logs.</p> + +<p>"You shan't," she gasped. "He'll kill you if you +go—if you don't he'll leave!"</p> + +<p>But I was too terrified for her sake to listen—too determined +that the fellow should not get back and tell +his gang.</p> + +<p>"Do as I say," I commanded, giving her a shake.</p> + +<p>She had stopped speaking and was desperately using +her strength. I, also, had grown desperate. Our position +was too unwarrantably exposed to tolerate this further, +and urgently I began to pry open her fingers when, +by some twist of her own or awkwardness on my part, +I slipped and fell out backwards into a deep, narrow +slit between the logs, drawing her down with me and +wedging my shoulders as if they were held in a vise.</p> + +<p>It might have been a serious fall—for her, I mean—had +not providentially she landed atop of me; but now, +trying to arise, I found that I had measured neither +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>her strength of purpose nor of muscle. Her determination +had not been cooled by this mishap, rather had it +become more aroused with the consciousness of her advantage; +for, in answer to my first movement, she +caught my cheeks and passionately shook me. Her eyes, +scarcely half a foot away, stared down into mine with a +frightened, pleading, commanding look. They were +open wider than usual, giving the impression that this +was the first test of physical encounter she had ever +experienced.</p> + +<p>"You're safe here!—you shan't move!" she was whispering +wildly.</p> + +<p>"I must," I declared. "He's got to be stopped, I +tell you!"</p> + +<p>I did not want to hurt her, yet at all hazards that +man had to be killed, and I began really to struggle.</p> + +<p>"No—no!" she panted, pushing down my partially +raised head with a jolt that made me see stars. For she +was fighting this time, with the ferocity of a tigress, +and I, held by her weight, found the task of freeing +myself no easy one. I tried working loose one shoulder, +growling between my teeth:</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> get out of here!"</p> + +<p>"You won't—you won't!" She reiterated this as if +sheer force of mind could make me yield. And then her +hair, uncoiling, fell softly over my face and closed my +eyes.</p> + +<p>There is a mesmeric force about the human hair, a +woman's hair, resting on a man's upturned face—although +I do not mean this in a sentimental sense. It is +a natural law; as a wild bird can be put into a state +of mimic sleep by laying it on its back and pressing its +eyes with feathers.</p> + +<p>The frenzy of Doloria's clutching fingers that still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>held my cheeks, and the pressure of her body whose excited +breathing wedged me even tighter down between +the logs, had been to us no more than incidents in the +desperate struggle we were making, each for the other's +safety. But, blinded by her hair, for the moment I desisted +and, taking quick advantage of this, she +whispered:</p> + +<p>"If you've any wish to please me, listen! I know +those men by heart—each is an arrant coward when +alone. So he won't crawl closer. By the time he brings +the others back we'll be inside the fort!"</p> + +<p>"That's just it," I retorted. "The fort's no good +at night—they'll rush it! He's got to be stopped, Doloria!"</p> + +<p>"Jack, do this for me, please?" she begged. Her lips +were very near. "If we have to die, we will—but I +can't see you go out on that prairie alone—I simply +can't!" And I grew still.</p> + +<p>Soon I felt her hands upon my chest as she pushed +herself up to look over the logs. By this movement +the blindfold was partially lifted and I could see her—her +body curved backward, as a mermaid that raises itself +at arm's length upon the shore. Her lips were +parted, her eyes were steady and level as they gazed +searchingly across the sea of grass—as many a nymph, +no doubt, hiding from a company of swashbuckling +gnomes, must have peeped out to see if her glade were +safe before venturing from the wood. In another moment +she had left me and run a few steps toward the +prairie, crying:</p> + +<p>"Look! He's 'way, 'way off!"</p> + +<p>"I can't look," I called after her. "You've put me +here for life!"</p> + +<p>Indeed, I was so completely held that the first result +of my twisting seemed only to make me lose ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +She came back, this time laughing without control—but +I knew the sign; my nerves, too, had recently been drunk +on relaxation from a strain. Tucking up her hair with +a few quick movements she held down both hands to me +and, after more squirming, I worked myself out. But +our enemy had by this time disappeared.</p> + +<p>"If that fellow's back, the others are, too," I said, +with some display of temper. "You've made the very +devil of a mess!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I have," she looked demurely away. There +was nothing of the tigress, nothing of the willful little +fighter, now.</p> + +<p>"The consequence is," I continued, "that we have to +decide between two darned slim chances, for they'll be +coming back within an hour. We can stay here, or run +for it! What do you think?" But as she remained +silent, gazing across the prairie, I kept irritably on: +"If it's run, we can't reach the forests north, south or +east without being seen—and you know what a fight in +the open means against such odds. We might hide in +the grass and travel at night, but if their woodcraft's +worth a hang they'll read our trail on this kind of +ground like an electric sign. There's an Indian in their +crowd, too. If we stay, the fort'll keep them off till +night—and there's always a hope of Smilax turning up. +They mightn't rush us after dark, either."</p> + +<p>I could see that the fort was our best chance, but +still I wanted her opinion. Something about the way +she stood, having no word to say, rather awed me, and +going softly I looked around at her face. Her cheeks +were wet and her lips were trembling with convulsive +sobs. Oh, how I hated myself then!</p> + +<p>"Good God," I cried, throwing my arms about her, +"see what I've done!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>But she put her palms against my shoulders and held +me off, saying brokenly:</p> + +<p>"You haven't done anything."</p> + +<p>"I have," I cried again. "I've hurt you—hurt the +one I love most in all the world!"</p> + +<p>"Don't," she said, more startled now than at any +time when she had been facing a greater danger. +"Quick! Please—let's get the things we need for the +fort!" And she sprang away from me, running toward +the pool.</p> + +<p>In a very few minutes we were back with the rifles, +an ample supply of cartridges, our canteens, and a +blanket I had brought in case we decided to slip away +at night. Helping her over the parapet I followed, and +we stood looking intently for a sign of foes, but the waving +grass spoke only of a brisk wind. It might be a +half an hour before Efaw Kotee's band could get within +range of us. Twice I whispered her name, but she +would not answer, so I turned her around until she had +to face me.</p> + +<p>"I have the right to speak now," I said gently, "because +this may be the last of things. The next few +hours will decide. You understand, don't you, and +know that my words are their own excuse?"</p> + +<p>There was a serious, calm mystery in her look that +answered mine with simple courage, as she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I understand."</p> + +<p>"We can't die," I drew her close to me, "because +I love you—I love you!"</p> + +<p>For a quick moment, and then gone, a light shone in +her eyes—as though some fire raging below had been +swept through the entirety of her being. Her fingers +that had been clutching my shoulders relaxed, and very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +softly her arms crept around my neck, as she murmured: +"No more than I do you!"</p> + +<p>It might have been a minute or a year that we drifted +in a rapturously agonizing kiss; but slowly her eyes +opened, her lips sighed and, touching them to my cheek, +she whispered my name over and over again.</p> + +<p>"We'll win to-day," I cried, giving the prairie a +searching look above her head, "and after that there's +a kingdom waiting for you here!"</p> + +<p>"I can feel it beating," she whispered adorably. +"But if we——" She could not say it, but let her +moist lips cling to mine as if challenging Death to part +us.</p> + +<p>Who dares measure time when Cupid perches on the +clock! 'Twas a wise providence that gave severe St. +Gregory the making of our calendar, and not St. Anthony, +else some minutes might be spun to days, and +hours squeezed to the fraction of a second.</p> + +<p>But the ever present danger had not at any time quite +ceased to pierce the mist of our paradise. She knew +I was keeping a careful watch, even while I held her. +Now she drew away, and crossed her arms upon the +parapet.</p> + +<p>"When things begin to happen," I said, "you must +sit on the ground. I won't risk your lovely head above +the wall!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked. "Aren't two rifles better than +one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I admitted, "but I can't shoot unless you're +safe."</p> + +<p>"Then don't think of me, at all, for I promise to do +whatever you say. Look," she pointed suddenly. +"There they are!—I believe every one of them! Oh, I +wonder if they've killed Echochee!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>I, too, wondered; for surely here was the gang that +had pursued them—quite a mile out on the prairie, to +be sure, but unquestionably Efaw Kotee's band, showing +as a black smudge above the grass. Whether +this pack of human wolves had lost the trail of Smilax +I would not try to guess, for it was enough to know that +they had found our own.</p> + +<p>They were still too far off to be counted, but I felt +that Doloria had been right in saying every man of +them. That would mean eight if Jess and the old chief +were along, furious devils demanding their revenge, +mad to surround us and take their own good time about +placing a shot where it would do the work. It was only +fair that she should know the odds, so I put my arm +around her, saying:</p> + +<p>"When they get nearer, they'll scatter out. Some +will stay in front, hiding in the grass and shooting +enough to keep us busy, and others will circle to the +trees behind us. It's going to be a close call, sweetheart, +but they'll never get in while I'm up."</p> + +<p>"I know that," she answered gently. "We may as +well be brave and speak of it with indifference; it's +easier that way; so I want to tell you that if you—you——" +but her voice did choke, yet she raised her +chin and calmly finished, "are killed, I'll follow right +away. It's infinitely preferable to being taken," she +hastily added, seeing my look of horror. "So wait for +me just a little while, and I'll catch up with you."</p> + +<p>Was there ever such courage! Looking back into her +eyes I saw a light that by its own vital force was self-translated, +requiring no words, nor the sight of her +fingers grasping the handle of that small revolver at her +waist, to tell of her determination. In spite of myself +I shuddered; yet she was so calm, so wonderful in her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +abiding faith of catching up with me on that Long +Trail that knows no turning back, that my heart, too, +burned with a flame more enduring than the love of +mortals. Without a word I took the small revolver +from her hand, and in its place put mine of larger, +more reliable, caliber. Understanding, she looked gratefully +up at me, her eyes filling with tears even as she +smiled and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Now I can do it without being afraid."</p> + +<p>"By the God above us," I groaned in my agony, +"you'll never have to! For your sake I'll beat off +twice that many men!"</p> + +<p>"Then don't think of it again, my ferocious, terrible +Chancellor," she laughed a little—but I knew, with a +sob tearing at my throat, that her playful mood, intended +as a tonic for my nerves, was the bravest thing +she had yet done. "Look, Jack! They're doing something!"</p> + +<p>"They're spreading out," I said, tensely.</p> + +<p>Her excitement suddenly died. In its place came a +pathetic look of wistfulness as she raised her face to +mine and, with a quick sob, whispered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, very own mine, try to let me cook your dinner +again to-night?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE ATTACK</h2> + + +<p>When after this I looked across the parapet I was +as a man of highly tempered steel. The compact mass +had begun to disintegrate, spreading in both directions +until their flanks must have been an eighth of a mile +apart. Then they advanced.</p> + +<p>On a guess I judged their line to be quite fifteen +hundred yards away because each unit looked about +the size of a pea; and, as these represented the upper +halves of men, the distance was too great to open fire. +So I raised my sight to a thousand yards and waited. +My nerves were steady with a purpose deep-set in me, +for I was about to shoot for the greatest trophy of my +life, so when the line had advanced a third of the way +I took careful aim, and fired. A second passed; then my +target disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Is he hit or hiding?" Doloria asked excitedly, adding +with a little gasp: "He's hit, for some are going to +him—see?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he is," I agreed, taking another careful +aim at one who had not started to his comrade's assistance. +He, too, disappeared, and immediately afterwards +all of them ducked from view.</p> + +<p>"That's awkward," I growled. "They'll do some +crawling up, now!"</p> + +<p>"They won't dare come close after that," she cried, +"for I know you hit one!" Yet this might have been +what Echochee would have called "good-medicine-talk,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +and while standing ready I warned her not to be too +sure, as both men might have dropped only for safety.</p> + +<p>It will not seem strange that we both felt some disappointment +over the probability of this, if one stops +to consider what lurked in the other side of the scales +for us.</p> + +<p>Heads soon began to bob up nearer, now accompanied +by quickly fired shots, and I ordered Doloria to the +ground. But with relief I noticed that these shots went +wild, many times hitting too far away to be heard at all, +so our position obviously was as yet undiscovered. The +morning sun shone directly in the men's eyes, while the +protective coloration of our fort blended most elusively +into the background of somber forest.</p> + +<p>At the bobbing heads I continued to fire with what +quickness I could, sometimes sending a second, third +and fourth shot purposely low to probe the grass where +it seemed that a man might be crouching. I could not +reasonably have expected to register a hit by this, but +it kept them in check, and that was our chief concern. +From the beginning I realized that if they got near +enough to rush us the night would close over a very silent +little fort.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Doloria gave a cry that froze my blood, +for I thought it meant an attack from the rear.</p> + +<p>"Quick—quick! Your matches! Oh, not to have +thought of it before!" But this last was added while I +dug into my pockets for the precious box.</p> + +<p>"You can't do it," I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I can! Keep them down, and I'll crawl! They +won't see me!"</p> + +<p>There was wisdom here, and I yielded. Nimbly she +climbed the wall, dropped to her hands and knees, and +crawled to the prairie. In another minute a string of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +smoke appeared; then with a bunch of grass alight she +flew from place to place, stooping as she ran, and leaving +in her wake a trail of fire. Almost as quickly she +was back at my side, breathing fast.</p> + +<p>"You glorious genius, we'll win out yet," I yelled.</p> + +<p>The grass was dry and tall and thick, and the wind +was blowing smartly. Fire asks for no better playground, +and with incredible swiftness a wall of flame +sprang up, crackling and roaring as it spread out +fan-wise.</p> + +<p>She knew, as did I, that the men would back-fire. +But while this would save them from the flames it would +at the same time remove their cover, and my rifle could +then have a whole man to bite at instead of merely his +head and shoulders, or less. They would have no alternative +now but to come forward quickly or retreat. +I think Doloria realized that anything might be about +to happen, for she laid the other rifle in position on the +parapet, rather casually asking:</p> + +<p>"Will it matter if I stand on the canteens? They +raise me just high enough!"</p> + +<p>Why should she not be given a chance to fight for her +life—at least, until they located our point of concealment +and began to concentrate their fire on it. That +this would inevitably happen might be a matter of +minutes, but until then I thought she had every right +to stay. There's no denying, too, that I knew her +value.</p> + +<p>What was going on behind the wall of racing flame we +could not tell. But now it rose majestically, leapt +skyward and sank to insignificance. The back-fire had +met our own; they had gripped, flared up, and died. +Likewise were our forces about to clash, and perhaps +burn out with the heat of human passion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>Staring through the smoke we counted seven men +running to the rear. They well enough knew the danger +of being without cover, and were intending first to get +beyond our range and then bring the fight back by +some other means. Shooting fast I heard Doloria give +several quick gasps of excitement as I knocked up the +ash dust close to them, and although, their number was +not reduced we gained a feeling of greater security to +find the fort more impregnable than I had prophesied.</p> + +<p>But our budding hope lasted about as long as it took +us to conceive it. One of the fellows suddenly changed +his direction, waving as he ran, and the others dashed +after him. Then we, too, saw the discovery he had made, +and it filled me with a sense of desperation.</p> + +<p>This was a long, low line of green, indicating a ditch, +or slough, edged with saw-palmettoes and bay bushes, +that began at some indefinite northwestward point and +diagonally crossed the prairie until it passed around +our Oasis scarcely more than a hundred feet away. +Heretofore, completely hidden by the tall grass, I had +had no idea of its existence, and neither had the men, +until Doloria's torch changed the prairie to a charred +waste. In reality it was the outlet from our spring, and +I knew that it must be fairly wide because the fire had +not jumped it.</p> + +<p>To Efaw Kotee's band it offered both an immediate +cover and a place from which to carry on the fight; +moreover, by following it toward us, they could reach +the Oasis and eventually creep up behind so near that +a well-directed shot in my head would be only a question +of persistence and time.</p> + +<p>Doloria must have understood this, and for the first +time she began to fire, yet at nearly a thousand yards, +when one's target not only moves but looks small and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +black upon a blackened background, and is made further +elusive by a haze of smoke, only luck can hit it. Still +we played that luck to the last card, until one by one +the men made safe and disappeared. Then she laid her +rifle on the parapet, and I think took a long breath. +For a moment neither of us spoke, each being afraid of +saying too much, perhaps.</p> + +<p>Beginning to fill the magazine, she finally announced:</p> + +<p>"They're seven, Jack. You hit that first one, a +while ago."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied, "or we'd see him on the ground +now. He merely ducked, like the others."</p> + +<p>"But there were eight the night I escaped!"</p> + +<p>"Then Smilax got one during the chase—which shows +that he and Echochee haven't been killed." But during +this our eyes never left the ditch and our rifles were +ready to blaze away at the first sign of movement.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Because if he had to make a last stand there +wouldn't be as many as seven men here now." And I +firmly believed it, knowing how savagely our two servants +would account for themselves. I think she agreed +with me.</p> + +<p>An ominous silence lay about us. I felt sure that the +scoundrels were crawling up along the ditch, and told +her this. She nodded. Minutes passed.</p> + +<p>At one point, about two hundred yards out, there was +a spot where the saw-palmettoes and bay bushes thinned +to almost nothing. Sooner or later the enemy would +have to cross this, and I watched it without blinking +because it would offer our best—if not, indeed, last—chance +to hold them. So when finally a stooping figure +showed itself I opened a vigorous fire. He drew back, +or fell back, and the silence again enveloped us, to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +shattered an instant later by a fusillade of shots that +made the air thick with crackling whines. The location +of our fort was known.</p> + +<p>"Down, down!" I yelled.</p> + +<p>"I am," she answered, obeying as the best of soldiers. +"I'll load for you!"</p> + +<p>We were being showered with lead by now, and between +the wasplike things speeding overhead and their +"sput-sput" as they hit the logs, I dared expose no +more than my eyes and forehead while emptying rifle +after rifle. In the fleeting movement of handing one +down and taking the other I saw Doloria sitting near +my feet, with several opened boxes of cartridges on the +ground beside her. We had plenty of ammunition, so +I did not wait for human targets but fired rapidly into +every probable place of concealment—just hoping.</p> + +<p>This must have begun to touch them up, for one now +made a dash across the open space and dived into good +cover, from which he started an instant reply to me. +There had been only time for a quick shot at him, as +the opening was scarcely ten feet wide. Another tried +and made it, but the third stumbled. Whether he accidentally +fell or was wounded, I had no way of knowing, +yet he was able, at least, to continue the fight because +there seemed to be no let up in their volume of +fire. Then, to my chagrin, a fourth got across, and, +following him, the last three tried together—successfully.</p> + +<p>In the best of conditions these men would have been +very hard to hit, yet I offer no excuses. My aim, of +course, had greatly suffered. Disregard for the nicest +accuracy in marksmanship may be expected when an +enemy is pouring a hundred shots a minute at a certain +point, and you happen to be that point.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again their rifles became silent. There seemed, indeed, +no reason to keep them speaking, as the road to +the Oasis was clear. When the trees back of us should +be reached more shots would ring out, closer, always +getting closer; eventually would come the hand-to-hand +fight, and then—forgetfulness. Yet I swore with a +burning rage in my heart that whoever of those fiends +were left to gloat over their victory would remember +until their dying day the price I had collected for it.</p> + +<p>"Where are they?" Doloria asked, in a voice that +trembled slightly. The strain of waiting below was +greater than that of seeing what went on outside.</p> + +<p>Grimly I told her how matters stood with us, and we, +also, became silent.</p> + +<p>The next move appeared in the direction of our +kitchen, when several shadowy forms began to dart +from tree to tree. The same plan was being adopted as +that which they had used at the ditch: one man, his +advance covered by a hot fire from the others, would +stoop and run forward to a previously selected place, +then a second, third, and so on, each beginning to shoot +from the new position, as he got to it. These tactics +might successfully be repeated until the last barrier of +trees, not more than twenty yards from us, was gained. +But now a fellow showed himself a moment too long +and I thought I dropped him, because a howl of rage +went up from his mates.</p> + +<p>I was keeping the two rifles very busy by this time, +and Doloria could scarcely load one before the other +was being passed to her. Each side had resorted to +the expediency of rising, firing and ducking down again. +They were too near for me to risk an inch of head for +more than the necessary fraction of a second, and sometimes, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>in my haste, I aimed at nothing at all. A vigorous +fire, whether effective or not, would hold off their +rush. But when I peeped over the next time a rifle, +protruding from around a tree, showed me that one, at +least, had reached the nearest point of cover. I banged +at it and ducked, as several shots whizzed over me. It +was rather discouraging work, this of being forced to +keep down! Another brief silence on their part was +suggestive of a new move, and I felt sure that they were +preparing for a charge.</p> + +<p>Calling this to Doloria, I began to bob up at different +places along the wall, trying in a frenzy to check them, +and for the moment was successful. Then I heard her +give a cry, as a bullet split the stock of the rifle she was +loading.</p> + +<p>"Some one's in a tree shooting down at us! Look +out!" she called, rolling over to get beneath the nearer +wall.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this I gave up trying to dodge, and +stood to the parapet determined to drop as many as +possible before being dropped myself; for if their number +were materially reduced she might be able, as a last +resort, to come off victor with the automatic. And +spurred by this intention I faced them so resolutely +that they were compelled to hug their cover. But a +second shot from the tree, slanting downward, struck +the surface of the sand filling we had used between our +walls; it hit a few inches directly in front of my face, +knocking up a shower of grit that, for the moment, completely +blinded me.</p> + +<p>I must have wheeled around with my arm across +my eyes, because the men believed that I'd been done +for, and with a triumphant howl started forward. Doloria, +too, thought the end had come, and gave one despairing +cry that I shall remember if I live a thousand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +years. Through my blurred vision I got a glimpse of +her face, a blending of courage and horror and purpose, +as she raised the automatic to her temple.</p> + +<p>And then by some divine insight I sprang and +snatched it away. The howls of triumph had ceased; +no leering enemy appeared above our parapet. The +smart in my eyes was passing enough for me to see +four of them running southward across the prairie with +the speed of deer, and suddenly I knew that, without +realizing it, I had just been hearing other rifle shots. +Whirling about, I saw emerging from a near-by point in +the ditch several figures, shouting and waving their hats.</p> + +<p>"Tommy," I yelled, "Gates, Echochee, Smilax!" I +did not name them all, but turned quickly as Doloria +flew into my arms. "We're saved, sweetheart! The +dice have rolled for us!"</p> + +<p>She was crying a little, clinging to my neck, talking +fast, but saying only one thing. And although Tommy +afterwards declared that for a time there was such a +silence in the fort that he believed we had been killed, +I consider this but one of his verbal extravagances; for +it seemed only a second after he waved before we were +on the parapet waving back to him.</p> + +<p>Yet, in the midst of my wildest cheer I stopped. It +stuck in my throat, it dried up as the fountain of my +gladness seemed suddenly to have gone dry, and I +looked at her. There must have been a great pain in +my eyes—not physical, for that was transient and had +passed—because she touched them, whispering:</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"See what I'm cheering for," I answered huskily. +"Our escape only means death to our dreams—it's good-bye +to the Oasis!"</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked, her face turning slightly pale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because the minute those people get here you won't +be my Doloria of the Golden Dawn any more, but Princess +Doloria of Azuria!"</p> + +<p>She caught hold of my sleeve and gasped, a little +hysterically:</p> + +<p>"But, Jack, suppose I don't <i>want</i> to be Princess Doloria!"</p> + +<p>Our friends had covered half the distance, and I +hurriedly said:</p> + +<p>"You can't help yourself! You don't know the +power that man, Dragot, has! Will you run off with +me to-night?" For I could not dismiss the obsession +that Monsieur would prevail. "He came especially +armed with government orders to find you and take you +back. And I'm only afraid your heart's too straight +to refuse him, even if you could, when he puts it up to +your conscience! Oh, Doloria—please don't cry!"</p> + +<p>"I won't," she answered tremulously, "if you stop +talking that way!"</p> + +<p>I was sorry, and quickly told her that everything +would come out all right—that my love was stronger +than all the powers of all the governments under the +sun. Then I helped her down on the prairie side, for +the others were nearly up to us, approaching with bared +heads. There was a fantastic note in our situation that +deeply affected me. What could have been more bizarre +than an Azurian princess holding court upon the +edge of a Florida prairie? This, emphasized by our +escape from death, added color to the fabric of unreality +whose warp was romance, and whose woof was the +mystifying surge of human impulses. So my vacillating +spirits rebounded to the pinnacle of happiness and, +raising my hand, I announced in a loud voice:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, Her Serene Highness, Doloria, Princess +of Azuria!"</p> + +<p>Except for Echochee, they stopped and in frank +amazement gazed at her. Flushed by the excitements +that had made this day memorable, she was indeed the +most adorable sovereign before whom knights had e'er +sworn fealty. But the old Indian woman, with an undisguised +croon of delight, went straight to her side, +folded her in aged, brown arms of iron, and faced the +waiting men with a look of defiance. She did not comprehend +all that was passing, but distinctly wanted it +understood that no one should touch her child.</p> + +<p>After that they were all about her, even Bilkins and +the two sailors asking to shake hands and hear from +her own lips the story of what had happened. She recognized +Gates as "the splendid captain who found the +bomb," and he blushed like a little boy. Monsieur, of +course, could not bring himself to treat her with anything +less than royal deference, so he kneeled and +kissed her hand. I saw her look at the back of it when +he arose, and then search his face—he had left a tear +which she seemed unwilling to brush off. Tommy, not +content with one hand, took both; and these he shook +until she burst out laughing. As a matter of fact, we +were all laughing a few degrees immoderately. Then, +without warning, the strain became too much. Her +eyes suddenly filled, her lips began to tremble. Turning +impulsively, she put an arm across Echochee's shoulders +and together they walked toward the spring, leaving +us silent.</p> + +<p>Old Gates rubbed his chin and looked up at the sky, +saying huskily:</p> + +<p>"My word, it's going to rain!" And, although there +was no cloud in sight, Tommy said he thought so, too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus the spell was broken and, with a more dismal +duty to be performed, we sent for Smilax to bring the +camp spade—leaving Monsieur to find Doloria and talk +with her, for I had excused him from the contract +Tommy made aboard the <i>Whim</i>, wanting to remove uncertainties +as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>Gates entered a careful record in his notebook of +identification marks on the three men we found dead. +Our joint statement would be sufficient for the law in +such a case as this, especially as Monsieur knew there +was a price on Efaw Kotee's head, and doubtless on the +heads of all who served him.</p> + +<p>When Smilax approached the last man he pointed +down with grim satisfaction, saying:</p> + +<p>"Him bust black boy's head!"</p> + +<p>It was Jess, who would have bullied the old chief into +giving up my princess! Well, our account was closed. +But of Efaw Kotee there was no clue. I felt sure he +was not among those who escaped, simply because he +could not have run so fast; and Smilax was certain he +did not follow with the chase.</p> + +<p>Our gruesome task finished, we turned back. For the +moment I wanted to be alone, with my thoughts, my +happiness, my uncertainty of Monsieur's power of persuasion, +my heaviness of spirit caused by the work behind +us. But Tommy ran up and slipped his arm +through mine, saying with exaggerated carelessness:</p> + +<p>"I'm glad that crescendo of horrors is over—if you'll +allow a kind of musical term; but I've got music in my +soul to-day."</p> + +<p>"It's a funny time for music," I grumbled, "—except +funeral marches."</p> + +<p>"By the way, did you find out about that other funeral +march?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I forgot," I confessed. "Don't bother me, +Tommy; I feel like the devil."</p> + +<p>"I know it," he gave my arm a squeeze—for Tommy +possessed that characteristic making for a community +of mind and spirit that did not wait for explanations. +"I know it," he repeated, "but you <i>look</i> a whole lot +better—really like your old self! Now, what's the trouble? +If you're worrying about the ruins we created +back there, cut it out! I'm not bothered over the one +or two I might have got! Fact is, nobody knows which +of us hit which, anyway. So what is it? I'm not asking, +merely insisting!"</p> + +<p>So I told him pretty much everything, as one chum +can to another.</p> + +<p>"You mean she may listen to the little gezabo and +go back?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I mean just that. She will if she thinks it has a +bigger claim on her. I know how square she is!"</p> + +<p>"Besides being square," he said thoughtfully, +"there's also something in the make-up of woman that +I've never understood: her apparent hankering after +sacrifice. When it comes to a show-down between heart +and conscience, she'll follow the conscience ten to one—if +she's straight. Look at it," he swept his arm toward +the prairie, as if innumerable instances were in +sight of us. "See the sweet-faced old ladies who never +wrote 'Mrs.' before their names—not that they've +missed anything, God knows, but just look at 'em! All +because some over-finicky parent didn't approve, no +doubt! And see the heart starvation stamped on +'daughter's' face, because 'father' was nearly bankrupt +and she <i>did</i> write 'Mrs.' to save him! Taking them in +retrospect, it's a question if the thing they called sacrifice +wasn't plain damn foolishness. Why, hell, Jack,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +d'you mean to say that the professor and his musty +European customs—oh, I can't be profane enough!—the +English language is trifling and inadequate! But +I'm going to take a hand in this courtship, myself!"</p> + +<p>"For a gregarious animal, Tommy, you're something +of a wonder," I began to laugh, because it was like +myrrh and frankincense blown upon my doubts and +fears to hear him talk.</p> + +<p>We went quietly on after this. Our boots made no +noise in the soft earth, and thus silently we approached +the fort; then halted. For on the farther side, hidden +by the walls, a man was speaking in tones of earnestness, +yet at that very instant a voice interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't persist in talking now," it +said irritably, "I'm too unhappy over the lives which +most have been lost, and——"</p> + +<p>"But Your Serenity must realize that lives are nothing. +The new destiny that——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know what you'd say," the voice cried. "But +don't give me any more arguments, for Heaven's sake! +They're utterly useless and, besides, you might convince +me!"</p> + +<p>Softly we tiptoed away and, when at a safe distance +I stopped to rub my arm where Tommy's fingers had +been digging into it, he whispered:</p> + +<p>"That didn't sound sacrificy, did it?"</p> + +<p>"The old fellow hasn't struck his pace, yet," I answered +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Well," Tommy looked back toward the fort, "the +pressure's high enough for one day. She needs another +rescuing. You go and speed up the grub."</p> + +<p>So, whistling the Charpentier love song, he left me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + +<h2>GERMAN CRUELTY</h2> + + +<p>At the kitchen fire Echochee was busily preparing +food for a company now swelled to ten, and Smilax had +dropped in rank to an assistant. I saw from her activity +that this was not a fortunate moment to interrupt, +yet there are some few things in life more +important than a well-turned meal, and I therefore advanced, +wishing to speak in the presence of our two +sailors who hovered near with lips that all but drewled +in anticipation of the feast.</p> + +<p>"I want to remind each of you," I said, "not to tell +the princess that any one was killed. Let it go that a +few were scratched, and the rest got away. You get +the idea? I don't want her shocked."</p> + +<p>My men understood at once, but Echochee, never +taking her eyes from the sizzling skillets, asked:</p> + +<p>"What you mean—'shocked'?"</p> + +<p>"I mean horrified, terrified—sorry," I answered, +rather put to it how else to explain.</p> + +<p>"Ugh! She already sorry; cry some, say ve'y bad. +Me say ve'y good. She all right now. You through?"</p> + +<p>And, since I was through, she gave another grunt, +leaving me with the suspicion that she thought I was a +very small boy.</p> + +<p>When finally the others came in sight Doloria walked +at the side of Tommy, while Monsieur followed in some +discomfiture of mind. His hair was tousled, and his +eyes were thoughtful. From this, and the grin on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +Tommy's face, I judged that all was not going well for +him and, in a more happy frame of mind, I went out to +meet them.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Davis has been telling me a strange story," she +smiled at me.</p> + +<p>"He's full of strange stories," I warned her. "Don't +take him seriously—ever!"</p> + +<p>"But I know he was serious this time—weren't you?" +The corners of her mouth were tell-tales of merriment +as she turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Shall we let Jack in on it?" he asked, the grin on +his face widening.</p> + +<p>"Do you think we'd better?" She was laughing outright +now, with an alluring spirit of confidence; so I +knew that she approved my estimate of Tommy and had +taken him into her heart as for many years he had +lived in mine.</p> + +<p>But women always loved Tommy—perhaps because he +loved them. If some far-reaching providence had not +endowed him with a well-developed sense of honor to +go hand in hand with his attractiveness, more girls +would have looked after him through tears than toward +him with gladness. Whatever his loves and secret affairs, +he always played above the board and never +cheated; so they could trust him if he won, and pet him +if he lost. Taken altogether, he was rather a lucky +beggar, who learned early in life that the golden key +which unlocks a woman's heart is Secrecy—and this +they seemed to know by some divine, or devilish, insight.</p> + +<p>Before he now had a chance to answer her question, +Monsieur caught up with us.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my boy Jack," he grasped my hands, forgetting +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>his ill humor to beam on me. "For lack of opportunity +I have not expressed my gratitude! Azuria +is your debtor! I, who have the authority, say it!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," I replied, "but that debt was cancelled +early this morning when its Princess saved me +from assassination."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," Tommy cried, in despair, "he's spilled +the beans! Jack, you bone-head, we——"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, sir," she commanded, turning beautifully +pink and giving me ten thousand messages in a single +look.</p> + +<p>"Then come on," Tommy said, beginning to draw her +away by the hand, "let's go off and think up another!"</p> + +<p>"My boy Tommy," the professor sternly reproved +him, "she is of royal blood!"</p> + +<p>"You said something that time," he imperturbably +replied. "Come on, Princess!" And laughingly she +went with him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu</i>," the old fellow pulled at his beard, "that +sex is like a cyclone—the nearer I get the faster I am +twisted! But just as her mother was at that age—yes, +quite!" He sighed.</p> + +<p>"Is she going back with you?" I asked, feeling a malicious +joy in the question after the last look she gave +me.</p> + +<p>"<i>Certainement</i>, there is no other way! Thus far I +have not tried to persuade her, but merely presented a +few minor facts. Yes, she will go."</p> + +<p>I confess that my malicious joy sank somewhat.</p> + +<p>"You are a gentleman," he continued, "and that +presupposes a delicate sense of honor. I know how you +feel toward her—yet would you have her remain with +you if she one day regretted it? Great things rest on +her return, I assure you. Let us start even! You +have had two days to persuade her your way; let me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +have two days to persuade her mine! After that, we +fight in the open—you and I!"</p> + +<p>There was something straightforward in his appeal +that impressed me. I had had two days, and it would +be giving her destiny, those great things he spoke of, a +square deal to comply. I had misgivings, of course, but +these were overruled by—why deny it?—the masculine +conceit that becomes assertive after a few feminine favors. +At any rate, it was a fair sporting proposition, +and I said:</p> + +<p>"All right, for two days—provided I explain to her +how we made this bargain."</p> + +<p>He smiled and hugged me as of yore, crying:</p> + +<p>"Almost you would make me sorry when I win! So +we fight to the last ditch, eh?"</p> + +<p>"To the last ditch," I smiled, shaking hands with +him.</p> + +<p>But hardly had the agreement been sealed before I +regretted it. Tommy's dissertation on sacrifice worried +me. And yet, what man with red blood and two wide-open +eyes in his heart would have refused to play the +cards Monsieur thus honestly laid out? It would be +unfair to Doloria's future if I pugnaciously held to the +advantage these few days had brought; for it is one +thing to start in an open race with men, and run and +burst your heart to be first across the goal which means +a woman's arms, but quite another to take her unawares +in a wilderness and, upon the spot, claim her before she +knows what the surrender may involve. In years to +follow a time might come when she would look at me +through shadows—shadows that grow dark with perplexity +over some irrevocable step—and I did not want +to sow a seed to ripen into one of these. It is distracting +enough for a man to bury his existing ghosts, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +sheer madness deliberately to raise a crop of new ones.</p> + +<p>In this case I did not so much fear a race with other +men in forms of rivals. I had reached my goal, her +arms, and nothing could undo that. But her conscience—who +dares claim the conscience of another! For two +days, then, Monsieur could fight it out alone with her, +and if his arguments prevailed—well, I would set about +destroying them.</p> + +<p>After luncheon, with a brevity that she must have understood +meant torture, I explained the compact, saying +that I could ask for no more promises until two +days had passed; and when she would have replied that +her promise had been given I warned her that Monsieur +had not even begun to show his power. She seemed a +little frightened at this and, but for the sterling mark +indubitably pressed upon her sense of right, I think she +might have consented to fly from him.</p> + +<p>"For two days, then, I'm not to see you," she said +simply.</p> + +<p>"No," I cried. "But for two days I can't tell you +how I love you; how you're the very breath of my life, +the control of my brain and body and soul, how I'll +finally win you against everything! I'll see you, and +be with you, but for two long, weary, interminable days +I can't tell you that!"</p> + +<p>"Mightn't you," she smiled, a wee bit naughtily, +"remind me each morning of those things you must not +tell me during the two long, weary, interminable days? +Then you wouldn't be so likely to forget, and break your +contract."</p> + +<p>"Temptress! I wish we'd walked to the fort!" For, +while we stood out of hearing, we were still in sight of +the others.</p> + +<p>"So do I," she laughed now, her eyes expressive of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +most fascinating wickedness, a daredeviltry born of the +knowledge that the proximity of outsiders made her +safe. Tommy says that girls often take this unfair advantage +of a fellow. Then Monsieur, believing the time +for explanations should be up, came toward us.</p> + +<p>At three o'clock our cavalcade started across the +prairie for Efaw Kotee's settlement. Tommy and Monsieur +were keen to see it, and especially was the latter +keyed up to ransack the place for proofs and information. +Smilax led, keeping away from the graves. Doloria +had made no reference to casualties, accepting +them as an unfortunate necessity, and only once asked +about the old chief's fate.</p> + +<p>I looked back at the Oasis growing small behind us +and a great sorrow came over me. It was not easy to +leave the place where I had found such happiness, the +place sacred to our vows, our first dwelling together beneath +God's tent! It lay green and peaceful, but now +upon a blackened sea. And, like that flame-swept land, +so was my flame-swept heart; the fire of a resistless +passion had passed over it, leaving amid the ashes one +spot of beauty. She, also, had stopped to look at it +and, as she turned away, our eyes met.</p> + +<p>When we approached the islands I went forward with +Tommy and Smilax, leaving Gates to command the rear +guard composed of his two sailors, Bilkins and Monsieur. +Echochee, supremely content to have found Doloria, +remained at her side.</p> + +<p>Four of the attacking party had escaped and might +well have returned to their houses. We favored the +theory, too, that Efaw Kotee had remained there, expecting +his band to capture us; so, if the fugitives were +with him, they could by now have prepared a formidable +resistance. We therefore went warily up to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +certain point and waited while Smilax crawled forward +to reconnoiter.</p> + +<p>He returned saying that three punts were on our side, +from which he believed the men had not come back but +were still putting as much distance between themselves +and us as possible. Tommy thought the punts might +mean a trap and, although Smilax shook his head in +doubt at this, we brought up one of the sailors to cover +our crossing in case of an attack. Then, scrambling +down the steep bank, in less than a minute we stood +upon the island stronghold. No shot had been fired, no +sign of life existed anywhere. Running to the nearest +cabin we hastily searched it, and ran to the next, and +in this way came finally to the old chief's bungalow. +Here we halted, as if some horrible magic had turned +us to stone.</p> + +<p>Efaw Kotee, naked to the waist, a few dried smears +of blood around his mouth, was there to meet us. His +lips munched the air, as a very old man who interminably +chews on nothing, and his chest rose convulsively, +then rested several seconds before renewing its struggle +for breath. He was repulsive beyond all human description; +for, stretched as an animal skin to dry, legs +and arms pulled wide apart with buckskin thongs, he +had been fastened head down on the wall beside his +door. Yet this was not all. Hanging at the end of a +string—in fact, now resting inertly against his cheek—was +the scarlet, black and yellow ringed body of a coral +snake, the deadly elaps. Its head had been severed and +lay upon the floor directly underneath.</p> + +<p>In a flash I read the story: a duel of teeth between +this captive reptile and the semi-crucified man; the one +in anger wounding, the other snapping in his frenzy to +sever that venomous head—his only means of escape<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +from it. From the way the thongs had cut into his +wrists and ankles I knew the struggle had been wild, +yet much of this may have come from the insanity later +kindled by the poison. But that period of torment now +had passed. Strength was exhausted, and life dangled +by the merest thread.</p> + +<p>I heard Tommy draw in his breath. With a shiver +Smilax turned away. Better than we he understood +what the old man had endured. Together we cut the +pitiable victim down, carried him inside and laid him +on a kind of divan.</p> + +<p>"Who did this?" Tommy kneeled and called in a +loud voice close to his ear, hoping to reach a consciousness +that had receded far into the shadows.</p> + +<p>"I know who did it," I interrupted. "Quick! While +there's time let me ask something we're not so sure +about!" And, taking Tommy's place, I called: "Is +Doloria the princess of Azuria?"</p> + +<p>It was so obviously my duty to see that she learned +the truth from one who knew, that I may be forgiven +this apparent disregard for the sufferer in our hands. +But he showed no sign of having heard, although I +called again and again in a more commanding voice. +His mouth had not munched the air since we put him +down, and Tommy, listening for a heart beat, looked +up quietly, saying:</p> + +<p>"Must have died on the way in."</p> + +<p>"If we'd only come an hour ago," I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No," Smilax shook his head, "him only squeal ve'y +bad for last twelve hour. Me reckon some men come +back last night; say he plan Lady run-'way; tie him +up; tie on snake. No, him no talk hour ago. Coral +snake bite make him ve'y crazy bad."</p> + +<p>Tommy had arisen and was walking softly back and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +forth across the room. Finally he stopped, saying over +his shoulder:</p> + +<p>"I'll give odds there's more in this old desk than he +could have told in a week! Here's a safe, too, stuck +back in an alcove, that looks like it might hold a ton! +You won't have any trouble finding out things!"</p> + +<p>I had not yet noticed the room, but now looked with +interest at these places that promised to reveal so much. +The room itself was large and expressive of luxury, +without being luxuriously furnished. The fireplace, +mantel, and furniture were of a good, home-made mission +type, constructed from gyminda, Florida's nearest +approach to ebony; but the floor was covered with +really beautiful rugs. Around the walls were built-in +book shelves, mantel high, filled with the volumes Doloria +had told me of. The piano was there, not an up-right +as we had found on the <i>Orchid</i>, but a handsome +grand, bearing one of the best names. A violin case +lay upon it, while near by was a music stand. Altogether, +these living quarters of Efaw Kotee showed a +taste I would have expected. Instinctively I crossed to +the desk, but Tommy stopped me, saying:</p> + +<p>"Not while that's in here, old fellow," he jerked his +head toward the divan. "In no other circumstances +would he take it from us lying down, and it's kind of +rubbing it in, don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"If you feel that way about it," I agreed. "But to +rob a girl of seventeen years or so of life isn't a crime +that merits much sympathy."</p> + +<p>"I reckon he pretty well paid up for it during last +night and to-day," he said softly.</p> + +<p>"Whether he did or not, I don't owe him anything," +I retorted, in no charitable vein, that I hope was caused +by our excitement and excessive strain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You owe him a dog-gone lot," Tommy emphatically +replied. "Look at those books, at that piano, at what +is suggested by the violin case, at the refinement of this +room—and then picture what might have been here! +Take another view, and consider what a fine chance +you'd have had to meet her if that old codger hadn't +turned scamp off there in Azuria! Anyway, we've got +to clean up the signs of this butchery before she comes."</p> + +<p>In an adjoining room we laid Efaw Kotee upon his +own bed. The sheet that Tommy got out of a press to +spread over him was, I noticed, of beautiful linen, and +I felt softened toward the uncouth frame which, in this +wilderness, had still demanded the refinements of life.</p> + +<p>Locking the door, we passed back to the living room +and thence to the landing where, at our direction, the +sailor signaled Gates to bring up his waiting party. As +Doloria once more stepped upon the island I saw her +eyes grow moist with tears.</p> + +<p>We told her that the chief had been found dying, that +now he was dead and the place deserted; but after she +and Echochee had been rowed across to their own home +and the two sailors posted to guard against a possible +return of the outlaws, Monsieur and Gates accompanied +us to the place of awful murder where we explained +what we had found.</p> + +<p>Monsieur passed into the smaller room, but came out +shaking his head and murmuring:</p> + +<p>"The face is much changed, yet I recognize enough to +feel reasonably sure it is he."</p> + +<p>More positive proofs came when, with breathless interest, +we went through the contents of the desk, taking +things out in order and putting them aside after minute +examination. The first of these was a seal, and the professor, +bending over it, uttered a cry of surprise:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The royal seal of Azuria! What deviltry could he +have been contemplating when he stole this!"</p> + +<p>Then came a blank sheet of note paper, stamped with +a gold peak, surmounted by a gold crown and three lavender +ostrich plumes—the Azurian royal crest. These +two things alone were strong pieces of evidence for the +professor's sanguine expectation. There was nothing +further of importance, so we turned to the safe which +seemed impassively challenging us to get at its secrets, +for the door stood fastened and the combination was +unknown.</p> + +<p>Monsieur kneeled, placed his ear against it, and began +slowly to turn the knob, listening intently for the little +metal hammers, or tumblers, of the lock to fall clicking +into place.</p> + +<p>"I never supposed he knew enough for that," Tommy +whispered. "It's a regular crook's way!"</p> + +<p>At last, very much disgusted, he gave up after explaining +that he could have succeeded in an hour or so, +but preferred to use dynamite because it was quicker.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly it's quicker," Tommy said, "but unless +you've cracked safes that way before, we may as +well say good-bye to the bungalow!"</p> + +<p>Gates thought that the door, being of ancient pattern, +might yield to a sledge, and Smilax went in search of +one. Finding none of sufficient size, he returned with +an anvil, swinging it by its spike. I remember the muscles +of his arm that held it, the poise of his body as he +raised it above his head and gathered every ounce of +power to hurl it upon the combination knob. It made +a superb picture of primordial man pitted against the +sciences. After each resounding blow we tried to throw +the lever, and at last the battered door swung out.</p> + +<p>Here was a find worth coming far to see—packages<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +upon packages of greenbacks, all counterfeit, but they +made a show, nevertheless. There were also plates for +printing francs, pounds and rubles, as well as those +from which the American bills had been made. While +Monsieur was studying one of these more carefully, +Tommy reached past him and drew out a large bundle +wrapped in heavy brown paper, securely tied and sealed. +He cut the strings and opened it, then gave a whistle of +surprise, asking:</p> + +<p>"Are these counterfeit, too?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, no!" the old fellow gasped, and I, also, +caught my breath; for in the bundle were hundreds of +unregistered French bonds, of the highest denomination.</p> + +<p>Opening one, I looked at the last coupon, announcing +that it bore a date of about seventeen years ago, whereupon +Monsieur cried:</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see it! This accounts for the royal seal we +found! Here, at last, is the perpetrator of that grand +swindle, lying peacefully behind the door and not caring +what we discover! But he has taken his rue with +the spoils!—he dared not enjoy these because of the lees +he saw in the pleasure cup!"</p> + +<p>"Chop that off," Tommy told him. "If you've an +inspiration about this stuff, come across with it!"</p> + +<p>"Ah-ha, that man—that <i>capitaine</i> Jess! His name is +Karl Schartzmann, a shrewd, rascally German who vanished +after the <i>coup d'état</i>!"</p> + +<p>"What swindle, Monsieur?—what <i>coup d'état</i>? +Whom do these belong to?" I was really losing patience; +and Tommy murmured:</p> + +<p>"Jack, didn't it strike you that only a German mind +could have conceived that revenge on Efaw Kotee?"</p> + +<p>"It was certainly true to German form," I admitted, +without reluctance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Bank of France!—who else?" Monsieur was +saying. "As one of the trusted, I know! Listen: the +dead man behind us, and the one called Jess, with our +Azurian consul in Paris—all scoundrels—hatched a +swindle to sell, through forged state authority and a +farcical secret diplomacy, a portion of Azuria to France. +This, you may remember, came near upsetting the +Balkans in 1903. Their crafty scheme lay ready to be +sprung when Efaw Kotee—we will call him that—had +to kidnap the princess in self-defense. From that time +but fragmentary facts came dribbling in from secret +agents, as follows:</p> + +<p>"First: Two weeks after the kidnaping a foreigner +bought a schooner yacht in New York, fitted it up with +great masses of household effects, and sailed, his papers +designating Guayra, Venezuela.</p> + +<p>"Second: Still two weeks later Karl Schartzmann and +our consul in Paris transferred the secret bill of sale +and left with their arms full of bonds. When France +discovered the fraud they were well away.</p> + +<p>"Third: Still two weeks later a schooner yacht, afterward +supposed to be the one bought in New York, +dropped anchor at Guayra and stayed until two men, +arriving by steamer, went aboard; whereupon she sailed.</p> + +<p>"This is all we definitely discovered, except that before +sailing crafty inquiries were made into extradition +treaties between France and South American countries—and +found, in every instance, to be unfriendly to +swindlers.</p> + +<p>"I now see how it was with them. Fearing everywhere +the press of France's vengeance, shunning telegraph +wires, they were driven to the solitude of these +islands where, as solitude has a way of treating the +criminal mind, their shyness grew to fear, their fear to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +terror. They did not dare go out except at rare intervals, +nor dared they realize on the bonds. It is clear +to me at last!"</p> + +<p>It was also clear to me, at last inerrantly clear, that +Doloria and the little princess were the same.</p> + +<p>"Whew!" Tommy gave a whistle. "I feel as woozy +as an old warped mirror! Did France offer a reward +for this stuff?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Certainement!</i> And you drew it out!—it is yours, +my boy!"</p> + +<p>"Like hell it is," he laughed. "I move it goes as +prize money to Smilax, Echochee, and the crew!"</p> + +<p>Late that evening we buried Efaw Kotee under the +mangroves, and did not tell Doloria. No one knows, +who has never seen it, the desolation of laying a shrouded +figure in a mangrove-covered oyster bar at twilight, +where water follows each slushy lift of the spade! I +feared for her to witness it, and therefore, Tommy reading +the service, the old chief was buried without a +woman's sympathy. But, in a measure, he had our own. +He held a claim on it for having faced a certain responsibility +to Doloria; for having, with the skill of a master, +developed the talents God had given her; for having +kept her from growing up like a weed.</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock that night when, by prearrangement, +Tommy and I paddled across to bring Monsieur back +from the little island, she was standing with him on +the landing. The moon was nearing full, bathing her +in a silvery light, and I saw from the droop of her +body that she was tired.</p> + +<p>"Good night," I said, arising in the punt and putting +out my hand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p><p>"Good night," she murmured wearily; but her fingers +were cold and did not answer the pressure of my +own. I had touched Efaw Kotee's hand only a few +hours before, and it had been cold with the same inert, +mysterious coldness. I shivered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A FLYING THRONE</h2> + + +<p>Early next morning Monsieur was taken to the little +island, and I felt that his interview would be long and +solemn—perhaps stormy. I hoped so. He came back +for luncheon and immediately left again, having given +us no intimation of his progress. I did not know what +Doloria might be suffering from these visits, but they +made me so abominably restive that during the afternoon +I took a pine and crossed to the mainland, half-heartedly +intending to look for deer. It was nearly +sundown when I returned.</p> + +<p>"We're packing, sir," said the sailor who tied my +punt.</p> + +<p>"Packing? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Orders, sir."</p> + +<p>Without loss of time I hunted up Tommy, finding him +and Bilkins busy at carpentry.</p> + +<p>"What's in the wind?" I brusquely demanded, forgetting +that Tommy was rather particular about the +way people addressed him.</p> + +<p>"Rain," he imperturbably replied; or did he mean +reign, and was employing a vulgar pun to apprize me +of Doloria's decision! So I delivered a ten-second +philippic on the poverty of some intellects, whereupon +he left off working and regarded me with amusement.</p> + +<p>"Fact is, Lord Chesterfield, I don't know what's in +the wind," he said, "but we're leaving for Little Cove +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>to-morrow at dawn. Bilkins and I are making a portable +throne—in other words, a chair suspended from +poles so Doloria won't have to walk. Professor came +over about five o'clock in a rattling hurry and splendid +humor. He's packing Efaw Kotee's effects now. Smilax +left two hours ago with orders for the <i>Whim</i> to be +there and take us off. Add it up for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Orders," I angrily exclaimed, for this impertinence +on the part of Monsieur was going too far. "He settles +with me, that's all!—and the <i>Whim</i> stays in Big +Cove till I send for her!"</p> + +<p>He grinned, then whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"So there's no use knicking my knuckles any more +on this portable throne?"</p> + +<p>"Not the slightest," I told him.</p> + +<p>"Love's first tiff," he sighed, laying down the hammer +and beginning to fill his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Love's what?"</p> + +<p>"Tootsie-wootsie tiff, I believe I said"—this between +puffs as the match flared high and low over the bowl. +"You understand, of course, that Doloria gave the +order."</p> + +<p>"Confound you, why didn't you say so! What's +happened? Did a message come?"</p> + +<p>"Sure." He stopped smoking and looked at me. "A +big limousine drove up with a note and flowers."</p> + +<p>"Be serious," I thundered. "This isn't any time to +joke!"</p> + +<p>"When you talk about a paucity of intellect," he +laughed softly, "it's a wonder you don't bite yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tommy, please let up; I'm sorry, honest—I'm +wretched, too!"</p> + +<p>His manner changed then. Putting his arm through +mine, he led me outside, going toward our landing.</p> + +<p>"This is just the time to joke, old man," he said, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +we reached it. "She made up her mind to leave, +<i>pronto</i>! Why? Conscience said obey Monsieur, but +heart said nixy! What's to do then? Start home +quick, of course, before little heart gives old conscience +the solar plexus! That's how I size it up!"</p> + +<p>"But I don't see anything to joke about," I said +gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Well, let me shuffle again—now take a look! When +Smilax left with her order, I sent a note to the mate, +telling him to bring both yachts down. Then we'll have +to split the crew, and in the mix-up I'll see that you and +she get on the <i>Whim</i>, while Monsieur sails on——But +I see you get me! If you can't stifle her conscience before +we reach Miami, you're a mud-hen."</p> + +<p>"Great guns," I whispered, grabbing him by the +arms, "we might sail——"</p> + +<p>"All over the Gulf," he chuckled, giving me a push +toward the water. "There's your Hellespont, son, as +sure as Leander was a gentleman! Cross it now and +tell her it's all right about that order!"</p> + +<p>"My two days aren't up yet; I'm bound."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing. Wait!"</p> + +<p>He was off to the old chief's bungalow and reappeared +with Monsieur, whose broad smile was anything but +reassuring.</p> + +<p>"You wish to relieve her uncertainty about that order?" +he asked, coming up. "Certainly, my boy Jack, +go and say what you please."</p> + +<p>"What I please?" I asked pointedly.</p> + +<p>"Why not what you please? She goes with me to +Azuria—we have arranged it. You could not dissuade +her now. Even could you, she knows she can not resist +my authority. Yes, go and say what you like."</p> + +<p>He was laughing by this time, at his success rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +than my discomfiture, but Tommy saw that I was making +little distinction between the two and wisely led him +away.</p> + +<p>As I stepped upon the little island Echochee came +down to meet me.</p> + +<p>"How's your Lady?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"You go see," she answered in a low voice, pointing +to the open door.</p> + +<p>As I entered the commodious living room Doloria +looked up, but did not smile. She was reclining on a +<i>chaise-longue</i>, beneath a shaded lamp whose rays still +blended with the light of a dying afterglow. Her hunting +costume had been discarded for a flimsy kind of an +exquisite thing of blue—hardly a dress, although it had +a lot of lace and seemed to fit her perfectly. It was +open at the throat like some dresses, and the sleeves fell +away from her arms; but I had seen one instinctive +movement she made to pull it closer which might have +indicated embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I've come with Monsieur's permission," I said, +bowing over her hand.</p> + +<p>"With Monsieur's permission," she repeated after +me. "We seem to do nothing but with Monsieur's permission."</p> + +<p>I saw that she was nervous and very much upset, so +replied as gently as I could:</p> + +<p>"But this visit involved my promise, otherwise I +wouldn't have asked him. I want to tell you that it's +all right about the yacht—your sending for her, I mean. +She'll be on hand to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Chancellor." Her tone had changed to +one of complete weariness. "Now leave me, please."</p> + +<p>"Leave you," I exclaimed. "I'll do nothing of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +kind! The two-day ban is off, and Monsieur has told +me I can say anything I please!"</p> + +<p>"And having his permission to say anything you +please, did you rehearse it before him, too?"</p> + +<p>This left me helpless, fervently wishing I'd had more +of Tommy's experience with girls' moods. He knew a +lot about them, and would have understood just what +to do. But I felt suddenly enraged—not at her, but at +everything, and cried:</p> + +<p>"I don't give a damn for him or his permission! He +shan't take you away!"</p> + +<p>For the first time she smiled, and held out her hands +to me, saying:</p> + +<p>"That's good-medicine-talk, Jack. I like it even if it +won't cure me. Say it again—that you don't give a +damn for him!"</p> + +<p>I would have said something in an entirely different +way had not Echochee been moving about the next room, +but I kneeled, leaning over her, keeping her hand and +whispering:</p> + +<p>"He shan't dominate our lives! You're going back +with me—don't you know you are?"</p> + +<p>"Don't make me sorry you came, Jack," she said +softly. "I must go with him. So let's talk of other +things and keep our last evening here from being a +horror."</p> + +<p>"I've got to talk about it, as I've got to breathe and +think and move and love you! It's all one! It's my +existence, and if you went away it would be like tearing +me to pieces!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but don't you see that I must," she cried despairingly. +"I didn't close my eyes all night, thinking, +thinking, thinking! It was agony. It's agony<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +now. But my decision's been through the fire, Jack, +and I know I'm right!"</p> + +<p>"No decision counts for anything against all you +mean to me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry!" she moaned, looking at me +without dissimulation and letting me see that her face +was marked by a solemnity and tragedy that wrung my +heart. "God," she whispered, putting her hand to my +forehead, "how I suffer while I see your tortured eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Then out of sorrow, pity, tell me what the fellow +said," I implored, nearly beside myself. "Let me know +the strength of your duty, so my own strength can have +a chance. It isn't fair to make a beggar of me when +I might be fighting for happiness! Let me see his +weapons so I can strike back; then, if I lose, I'll lose +standing up—and the future," I added, less impetuously, +"isn't so gray to the man who loses standing up."</p> + +<p>She had turned away with a quick gesture of anguish +and seemed to be crying, but when she looked at me +again there were no signs of tears.</p> + +<p>"He says others have demands and rights, and the +many must outweigh the few."</p> + +<p>"That depends on the greatness of each side's claims," +I began, when she interrupted by continuing:</p> + +<p>"My conscience decided that—it had no choice; every +claim has been weighed—accurately." Her voice trembled +a little, and I thought she was trying to make it +harsh. "He said that you and I were thrown out from +separate spheres, opposite poles. By chance our orbits +happened to cross, and you rendered me this tremendous +service. But it was only a part of the foreordination—only +to make my path easier to a greater duty ahead, +a greater destiny to be fulfilled. Now this commands—he +says. The call of my birthright has come, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +must answer. He says that neither of us will mind it in +a little while, as memories pa—pass." She wavered +at last, and again turned away her face.</p> + +<p>"But you don't believe that stuff?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, his words are so unanswerable—when he speaks +them! Then he has the authority to command me!"</p> + +<p>"They're not unanswerable," I said hotly. "<i>You</i> +haven't weighed our happiness against this unknown +voice of your people, your birthright—he did it for +you! His cold logic read the scales—not your heart or +your conscience! He's built a wall around you like a +cistern, and you can't see out. If it was ordained for +us to face death, then by the same law we've got to +face life! Sweetheart, don't you see what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I've seen all that from the beginning, dear," she +murmured, putting one hand on my hair and stroking +it. "But nothing can prevail against what you call his +cold logic. He's certain that he's right, and he has the +power to make me go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if I only had the brains to out-argue him!" +My voice choked, and I bowed my head in her lap.</p> + +<p>For a while we were silent. Her hand continued to +stroke my hair, and soon her fingers strayed to my temple +and gently pressed it—as if she knew that my head +burned and ached, and wanted to make it well.</p> + +<p>"You don't have to argue, always my own," I heard +her whisper. "There's something stronger than words +pleading for you."</p> + +<p>I looked up quietly, saying:</p> + +<p>"Let's run away to-night! Let's have another rescue, +and go back to our Oasis——" But she stopped me +by putting her hand over my mouth, although she was +breathing fast and the color had flown to her cheeks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't, don't," she gasped. "I've thought of that +so many times!"</p> + +<p>"To-night," I begged. "You know I'll always make +you happy?"</p> + +<p>"Happy?" Her eyes, half closed, held mine with a +look that did not try to hide its longing. "There'd be +no happiness on earth like that of being entirely yours +at our Oasis!"</p> + +<p>"Then, sweetheart——"</p> + +<p>"No, Jack," she now sat straighter. "I was dreaming. +Besides, he'd follow with every officer in Florida. +Don't you understand, dear, that he has the <i>right</i>? +I'm helpless to refuse! I can't—possibly! It's simply +awful, but it's got to be."</p> + +<p>Yet I believed that she had been on the point of yielding, +and was about to urge still further when Monsieur's +voice, speaking to Echochee, brought me to my feet.</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy Jack," he exclaimed, entering with a +cheeriness I found detestable, "we shall leave her now, +eh? She has packing to do, and must get early to +rest."</p> + +<p>His protectorate seemed to brook no opposition, and +an angry retort sprang to my lips which remained unspoken +when I saw the pallor of Doloria's face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, without animation, "I must pack. +See you to-morrow—on the march."</p> + +<p>So, ignoring him, I passed out. But a better humor +came to me as I thought of Tommy's scheme about the +<i>Orchid</i>, and coming upon Echochee at the landing I +asked—lightly for her benefit, yet quite seriously for +myself:</p> + +<p>"Is there any magic in your tribe that can bring a +troubled princess sleep and pleasant dreams?"</p> + +<p>I knew that she was searching my face with her black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +little eyes that glistened like a snake's, as she answered +slowly:</p> + +<p>"Injun maiden find plenty good dream when her +head lay on breast of sleeping brave."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean just that," I stammered, feeling my +cheeks grow hot. For, albeit, Doloria had slept part of +a night with her head against my shoulder when we +fared alone in the purity of our wilderness, now, since +others of the world were touching elbows with us, Echochee's +words knocked me rather into a self-conscious +heap. But such is the bitter tithe we must toss into +the maw of civilization which, despite its multitude of +admitted blessings, breeds also the false! And I stepped +into the punt wishing that this daughter of our oldest +American family could be divinely appointed arbiter of +our customs.</p> + +<p>Smilax returned with word that both yachts would +be at Little Cove, and one by one the lights in our +camp went out. But I sat late at Efaw Kotee's desk +writing a ten-page telegram and a fifty-page letter to +my father. Both of these I would despatch from Key +West—the wire telling him to bring the Mater to Miami +where the letter would await them; and I urged +them both, as they loved me, to pick up a certain darling +of the gods named Nell. Only I made it stronger and +more explicit than that, and knew they would comply +if such a thing were humanly possible. But this pet +scheme I intended to keep from Tommy. It would repay +him for his masterly scheme of sailing both yachts +homeward.</p> + +<p>The next morning after an early breakfast our cavalcade +set forth, each man carrying a pack except the +two sailors on whose shoulders rested the poles of Doloria's +chair. But in this chair sat a very sad little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +princess—this morning particularly, as she was leaving +a nominal home for a new and mystifying adventure. +Whatever else Efaw Kotee had been to her, at least he +stood in her memory of father; and however irrevocably +she may have turned against him, the very fact that +she found it necessary to do so was a grievous disappointment.</p> + +<p>All that had passed. Strangers had come, and in a +few days she was being borne to the other half of the +world. To her mother!—what did she know of a +mother? To a throne!—but with an unknown prince to +rule beside her? And these were entirely apart from +the longings she might leave on this side of the world. +Surely, if she needed sympathy at any time it was now +as the march began.</p> + +<p>Although Monsieur had taken a position close to her, +and evidently meant to keep it, before we had gone very +far I fell in alongside with them, asking:</p> + +<p>"How do you find the march? Tiring?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not in Tommy's flying throne, as he calls +it,"—and in an undertone she added: "I wish it were +the only throne I had to occupy."</p> + +<p>But the professor, overhearing this—for little escaped +him now—cleared his throat and stepped nearer.</p> + +<p>"She is mistaken, my boy Jack," he said suavely. +"The march is quite fatiguing, and I must insist that +she conserve her strength. There will be no more conversation."</p> + +<p>Taken aback by this, I was on the point of giving him +a jolly good blowing up, but her ready acquiescence +caused me to desist. Really, I began to wonder if he +had her hypnotized; and, furious—indeed, quite a good +deal hurt—by the cool way she obeyed him and began +to ignore me, I marched grimly ahead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> + +<p>As, three hours later, we neared the cove I saw Tommy +sauntering back. His manner seemed an augury of +trouble, and I hurried on to him, asking:</p> + +<p>"What's happened?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Orchid</i> isn't there," he turned and fell into +step with me. "While getting her out of Big Cove she +fouled on a bar. She's still on it, poor dear. So Monsieur +sails with us, after all."</p> + +<p>For several minutes I stood still in my tracks and +swore, stopping only when Doloria's chair came in +sight.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you got that out of your system," Tommy +grinned. "Now get busy on a new line of attack. +We've only three more days, and you'll have to work +fast. Surprise her, upset her, then cinch her before +she knows what's what. That's the way!" And he +hurried back to pay his respects.</p> + +<p>The mate and his fellows, even to Pete the cook, escorted +us happily down to the small boats. They were +honestly glad, and made no pretense of disguising their +admiration for Doloria, to the increasing wrath of Echochee.</p> + +<p>If ever the men of my own boat crew were on their +mettle it was when they sat with oars straight up while +I helped her into the gig and took my place at her side—for +this was an honor I could not yield to Monsieur, +etiquette demanding that, when going aboard, the owner +must be her personal escort. With a nod to them they +snapped into stroke and we shot away, leaving the old +fellow much disgruntled.</p> + +<p>At the top of the gangway she hesitated in pretty +wonderment before stepping on deck, for the <i>Whim</i> was +a smart craft and our sailors had not been idle these +few days past.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Everything's so unreal," she murmured. "My +house of cards has come tumbling down about my ears, +until I think it must be a dreadful dream."</p> + +<p>"To be transported to a sure-enough throne is certainly +dreamlike," I said, arranging the cushions in a +chair. "But I hardly think you'll find anything dreadful +about it."</p> + +<p>"You don't?" she asked pointedly.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered. "The dreadful part's for me."</p> + +<p>I knew this was not true, or only partially true, but +considered it justifiable after Tommy's warning—and +Tommy knew a lot about women. I remembered him +saying once that a girl's determination could be changed +in two ways: by opposition, and by coöperation. I had +tried opposition, so now I would pretend to fall resignedly +in with Monsieur's plan, taking it for granted +that her future promised nothing but idyllic happiness, +that memories would pass, and all that kind of thing. +I would become an enigma to her—for this, also, had +been one of Tommy's diverse methods of success. Some +day, confessing how my triumph had been achieved, we +both would laugh over it, and then she would have to +admit that Tommy was not the only one who knew a +thing or two about women.</p> + +<p>So reasoning, I started in at once. For a while she +stared at me, her eyes growing wider and wider. Then +she arose and went to the rail, remarking coolly:</p> + +<p>"Please signal to have Echochee and Monsieur Dragot +brought out at once." And that was the only thing she +would say.</p> + +<p>To hell with what Tommy knew about women! She +would not so much as look at me again, and when that +wretched old rag of a shriveled-up squaw, incarnate +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>fiend of a watchful guardian, arrived my princess retired +to her stateroom, nor did she appear again the +entire day. What Tommy knew about women, indeed!</p> + +<p>The rest of us lunched in moody silence, except Monsieur +who grew loquacious to the point of making himself +an ass. He was not on the crest of popularity, +anyway. Previously, in order to give Doloria more +freedom, Tommy and I decided to sleep on deck and +use Gates's quarters for a dressing room. But when +this proposition was also opened to the professor he +flatly refused to join with us. The truth of the matter +was that he had determined upon a plan—singularly +popular among pedagogues—of watchful waiting; he +had made up his mind that Doloria and I should not see +each other again except in his presence. He may have +told her this—I rather suspected it.</p> + +<p>As we sat in the cockpit smoking, he became down-right +obnoxious by excessive jocularity. It can be disgustingly +overdone. Believing that his triumph was +assured, he sputtered and giggled with small regard for +my presence, and the farther he went the madder I got. +Despite his former protestations of fair play, I now +began to nurse a suspicion of this befousled little gimcrack; +but I'd not thought that Tommy would grow a +distemper of any magnitude until the professor, rubbing +his hands, announced:</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Capitaine</i> says we do not sail for an hour. Let +us take a small boat and fish around the mangroves! +Maybe a snapper, eh?—or a sheep's-head!"</p> + +<p>I was silent. Tommy puffed indifferently at his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Come," he cried again. "Let us make a fishing +party!"</p> + +<p>"The trouble with fishing parties is," Tommy +drawled, "that there's always some damn fool along +who wants to fish."—Which was, I think, not only the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +best thing Tommy ever said but, in the circumstances, +the best that could have been said.</p> + +<p>The professor sat down again rather suddenly and +blinked at us.</p> + +<p>"So! Then we do not fish," he murmured, and after +another thoughtful pause went below.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose we ought to insult him," I suggested, +not intending any one to think I meant it.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what we do to him," Tommy savagely +retorted. "All the good you've got out of this cruise +will go to the bow-wows. I won't have it, I tell you! +Let's chuck him overboard!"</p> + +<p>"Chuck over your grouch," I laughed, although his +proposition interested me.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I haven't any grouch," he turned away; but +swung back, asking: "Are you going to give up?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly not!"</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you get busy?"</p> + +<p>"Get busy! D'you expect me to go downstairs and +drag her out of her room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—do anything! She isn't staying there from +choice!" (But I knew better than that.) "If I slug +the gezabo you might ask her up. Shall I?"</p> + +<p>"Show an idea, man! You know she wouldn't see +me!"</p> + +<p>"What if she wouldn't! Bring her out, anyhow! +Good Lord, Jack, if you're an example of lovers up +North, then I say God pity Yankee girls!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what would you do, Mr. Know-so-much?" I +asked, my temper blowing up. "If she told you she'd +stayed awake nights fighting it out and reached the +conclusion, absolutely and without peradventure of +changing her mind, that her destiny's in Azuria, what +would you do then—you who know such a hell of a lot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +about women?" I just had to say that; it kept irritating +me.</p> + +<p>"I don't claim any knowledge of the genus," he said, +looking mildly at the horizon—and wanting to laugh, I +thought. "But a modicum of brain would show you +she hasn't thought it out, at all. How could she in +forty-eight hours, being confronted for the first time in +her life with the two most glowing things in a girl's +fancy—love or a throne? She's dazzled, not decided."</p> + +<p>"She's worse," I growled. "She's hurt—that's one +reason she won't come up! And allow me to say that +what you know about women wouldn't fill a gnat's eye!" +I seemed to be hypped on this, and couldn't get away +from it.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you've spilled the beans you'll have to pick +'em up pretty quick, for we'll be home in three days. +Just be sure you don't intimate that Azuria can be +less than a perfect hell to her, for that would ruin your +chances forever!" And with this parting injunction, +that drove terror to my heart, he walked aft to join +Gates.</p> + +<p>Going to the companionway door, I peered into the +cabin. The wretched Dragot, bedecked in smoking +jacket and spectacles, looking uncommonly like a monkey, +I thought, was lounging behind a book. He knew +that the nearer uncertainty approaches a certainty the +more fatal will be the result of its upsetting; that, whereas +a scheme jumbled in its infancy may recover, the +slightest maladjustment on the threshold of success +often spells irrevocable ruin. He was taking no +chances.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A TREASURE BOX</h2> + + +<p>Late that afternoon we got under way, setting our +course for Key West. But it was a glum company +aboard. The Princess remained in her stateroom; +Tommy's grouch for Monsieur had grown out of all +proportion, so the professor's gay mood lost much of its +bloom; Echochee, whenever she left her mistress, scowled +at us as though we were pirates; Gates, knowing that +my plans had become miserably pied, grumbled over +trifles; Bilkins sniffled, and the mate walked about with +curses fairly bristling from him like pin-feathers. +Heaven knows how wretched I was! If a group of people +were ever out of tune, we had struck the original +discord. Of us all, the cook maintained both equanimity +and cuisine in perfect taste, else I hesitate to think +what might have been the fate of the good yacht, <i>Whim</i>.</p> + +<p>Sometime during the night we reached Key West, +and early next morning Gates called me to go ashore. I +had requested this. There were the telegram and letter +to be sent; and candy, flowers, fruits, magazines, souvenirs, +and anything suitable I might find, to lay at +Doloria's shrine. Had it not been for the stubbornness +of a fellow who insisted that he was under contract, +I would have had a moving picture show aboard +for her.</p> + +<p>By eight o'clock we were again away, sailing lazily +eastward before a light breeze. Three days of this inert +weather, or possibly less, should bring us to Miami.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +There Monsieur had expressed his intention of wiring +the Roumanian, or some other, consul; then he would +entrain with my little Princess, and—well, that would +be the end.</p> + +<p>All that day we poked along. Surreptitiously I had +sent several notes down by Bilkins, but the only reply +they got was an angry negative shake of Echochee's +head. The old Indian would divulge nothing beyond +the fact that her Lady was well. I then thought of +knocking at Doloria's door to get a word with her, but +the professor, always in the cabin on guard, sat where +he could frustrate any such plan. He had stayed there +the previous night until a late hour, and was back at +his post quite an hour before breakfast.</p> + +<p>She did not appear at luncheon, nor during the long +and wearisome afternoon.</p> + +<p>The next day was a counterpart of its forerunner, +except that it got more on my nerves. I had pegged +through it in the hope that she might at least dine with +us—for this was to be our last dinner on the <i>Whim</i>, +Gates saying we would land about the following noon. +But, happening upon Echochee and asking her this, she +almost snapped my head off in saying that her mistress +had no such intention.</p> + +<p>Growing more desperate as the afternoon waned, I +tried again to approach Doloria's stateroom from the +far end of the passageway, but Monsieur, glancing over +his book, arose and came toward me. The expression in +his face plainly said that if I attempted to force him +aside he would command her to keep her door locked—and +I knew that she would obey. Therefore, ready to +abandon hope, I wandered up and sought a secluded +place along the rail where, unobserved by steersman and +forward watch, I could swear a little, and look more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +glum, and feel quite natural. It was here that Tommy +passed me on his way to the cabin.</p> + +<p>"Time for dinner," he said, stopping and laying down +something that had been under his arm.</p> + +<p>"Don't want any dinner," I growled.</p> + +<p>His face, for the first time in three days, broke into a +beatific smile, and for a moment I was disposed to punch +it, thinking, of course, that he meant to guy me. But +he saw this intention and sprang back, holding his palms +outward in an attitude of alert protest; yet the smile +continued, now to be followed by a low, pleased laugh.</p> + +<p>"Don't get mad," he gurgled. "I'm not laughing at +you—only at things."</p> + +<p>"In the circumstances I consider that personal," I +glared at him.</p> + +<p>"Well, you needn't, honest! To-night I'm presenting +the gezabo with a treasure box, and had really intended +asking you to keep away from dinner. That's +why I'm laughing—your unintentional acquiescence is +a good omen!"</p> + +<p>"Treasure box of what?" I demanded, knowing this +was some of his tomfoolishness, and irritated that he +should have any heart for it.</p> + +<p>"Keep your head down," he winked good-humoredly. +"You'll know soon enough."</p> + +<p>"Tommy," I now excitedly caught him by the arms, +"you've got a scheme! What is it, old man? Tell me +quick!" I shook him happily, for there was something +about his mysterious air that began to inspire me with +hope.</p> + +<p>"Very simple, son; very simple," he chuckled. "Surprisingly +simple, and that's why it'll get across. You +sit in the cockpit and observe without being observed, +but I'll need your help in one thing: when you see me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +get up and walk around my chair, you beat it, <i>pronto</i>, +for this very spot where we are now—and wait here. +Understand? It's a nice secluded spot, so you just wait +till I come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind! Just do what your Uncle Tom says. +Now it's dinner time and I reckon Monsieur's starved—he +always is! So I'll take my treasure box—oh, by the +way, you're not supposed to be in the cockpit, so don't +stir around!"</p> + +<p>As he picked the thing up I saw that it was a little +iron safe about ten inches square—everybody knows +the kind. Although small, it was heavy and quite complete, +possessing a combination lock of no small merit. +In the captain's quarters that Tommy and I now used +as a dressing room I had noticed a safe similar to this, +and asked if it were the same, whereupon he laughed, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Yes. Gates keeps his pipes in it, but I got him to +flip the combination on 'em for to-night. Well, here +goes!" And a few minutes later as he descended the +stairs, I, with repressed excitement, stepped back to +the cockpit, taking a chair where I could see without +being seen.</p> + +<p>The dinner had scarcely begun when Monsieur, looking +about, asked:</p> + +<p>"Where's my boy Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Where's Jack?" Tommy repeated, in a voice unnecessarily +loud, I thought. "Didn't you know about +Jack? Why, he's in bad shape—maybe die, for all I +know!"</p> + +<p>I must say that the professor looked genuinely concerned, +and would have left at once to doctor me had +not Tommy sternly interposed. Across the carpeted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +floor of the dim passageway that led past the staterooms +I now saw a thin streak of light, as if some one +had quietly opened a door an inch or so. Since this +happened to come from Doloria's room, I suspected the +Indian woman of listening.</p> + +<p>"Don't you go near him or he'll jump overboard, I +tell you," Tommy was saying. "He wouldn't let you, +and you couldn't help him, anyhow; no one can, poor +old Jack! When the Princess stopped speaking to him, +and he saw the game was up,—well, his heart kind of +broke!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu</i>, I am sorry—I am sorry," the professor +shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Don't let's talk about it," Tommy replied, as dolefully +as the loud tone would permit. "I can't look at +his suffering—really I can't! It almost kills me! And +there's no remedy, now!" And, when finally the conversation +had been diverted to other channels, the streak +of light disappeared.</p> + +<p>Sometime later Tommy, with, a fine show of indifference, +said over his demitasse:</p> + +<p>"By the way, if we land to-morrow this is your last +chance to open that treasure box."</p> + +<p>"Treasure box?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the little safe I found tucked down in Efaw +Kotee's trunk. Jack and I intended to tackle it to-night, +but since he's knocked out I've lost interest."</p> + +<p>"I had not heard of this," the professor cried, his +eyes sparkling with all manner of hope and enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you heard of it, but just forgot. Anyhow, here +it is." He lifted it from the floor and placed it on the +table. "You're welcome to its secrets; I'm satisfied to +get home with a whole skin." Whereupon he reached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +for a recent Key West newspaper, tilted back his chair +and settled down to read.</p> + +<p>Monsieur's fingers closed feverishly around the little +safe as though it might have held the secret of perpetual +youth. After examining it minutely, he sprawled over +and prepared to open it by listening for the little metal +tumblers to fall into their notches while he slowly turned +the combination knob. Tommy, I guessed at once, had +neatly anticipated this after seeing him try it on the +big safe in Efaw Kotee's house and hearing his boast +that he could have accomplished it in time. Now, just +as he got his ear flattened to the iron door and was +almost choking for breath in an agony of listening, the +newspaper began to rustle.</p> + +<p>"It gets my goat," Tommy irritably exclaimed, "to +have a front-page story carried to the inside, where half +the time I can't find it!"</p> + +<p>Monsieur, raising his head, politely waited for the +noise to cease, as no one could hear the delicate sounds +he sought with a newspaper carrying on that way about +his head. Yet, when quiet had been once more restored +and he was ready to try again, Tommy began another +hunt for news.</p> + +<p>"Think you can work it?" he casually asked, over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I—I might, with less noise," the professor suggested.</p> + +<p>"Hope my paper doesn't bother you. This is the +only place I have to read since I gave up my room, you +know."</p> + +<p>Several times more, as Monsieur was holding his +breath momentarily expecting the mystery of the combination +to dissolve, the paper seemed to be stricken +with an ague, till at last, hugging the safe to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +chest, he indignantly stalked down the passageway and +slammed the door of his room after him.</p> + +<p>Tommy now arose and walked around his chair, and +as I was leaving for my appointed place I saw him +start on tiptoe in the direction of Doloria's stateroom.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he appeared in the cockpit, helped +her to the deck, and together they approached. Yet as +they drew near the place I was standing she stopped, +looking at me in pretty surprise, but came forward again +with hands outstretched, saying:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack, I thought you were terribly, dangerously +ill!" And before I could reply Tommy was gurgling, +with a fatuous grin:</p> + +<p>"Why, hullo, Jack! I see you're up!"</p> + +<p>"Are you better?" she asked, letting her hands rest +in mine.</p> + +<p>"D'you know," here Tommy interposed, not giving +me a chance to answer, "that old whiz-bang devil told +Doloria that if she spoke to you, or answered your +notes, he'd have you jailed for interfering with a foreign +country's accredited agent? Sure, he did! He +stuffed her poor little head full of trumped-up international +law that hadn't a grain of truth in it—to scare +her, see? She was afraid to budge!"</p> + +<p>"He did that?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, but it doesn't matter now," she said hurriedly. +"Are you really better?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me"—it was Tommy again—"I've +come up without my cigarettes! You'll excuse me?" +He bowed to her, and left without awaiting the royal +consent.</p> + +<p>The silence was a trifle awkward when he went, and +our eyes seemed to be glued to the spot where he disappeared; +but now I turned to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I suppose Echochee was listening to his conversation +with Monsieur, and told you. Tommy's full of ideas, +but this is his masterpiece because it unlocked your +prison."</p> + +<p>"It was I who listened—purposely," she said, without +a trace of embarrassment, but laughed a little strangely +as she asked: "You weren't ill, at all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I honestly was—with unhappiness; but not as +near dead as he pretended."</p> + +<p>"And you're in no danger by talking to me?"</p> + +<p>"The greatest danger—but not from man-made +prisons."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it feels so good to be up in this fresh air," she +said irrelevantly, raising her face to the sky and taking +a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"He was a scoundrel to keep you shut in down there," +I declared; and then she told me of the old fellow's +fabrications, really such atrocious lies that for a while +I was undecided whether to thrash him or laugh. As it +turned out, I laughed; because she did.</p> + +<p>She had moved to the rail and rested her arms on it, +leaning over and looking pensively down at the water. +I, also, went to stand by her, but, in turning, my eyes +happened to glance through one of the cabin portlights +at Tommy. He was seated comfortably in a deep chair, +Doloria's box of candy stood on the table within easy +reach, the newspaper was in his hands, a cigarette hung +from his lips, and Echochee was just bringing him the +basket of fruit I had taken so much care at Key West +to have made attractive.</p> + +<p>"Picture of Tommy hurrying down for his cigarettes," +I whispered. "Peep at him!"</p> + +<p>As she leaned forward and the light fell on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +serious face, the attractive curves of mischief, always +so maddening, touched the corners of her mouth.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a dear," she murmured. "And there's +nothing in the safe but the captain's old pipes?"</p> + +<p>"That's all. Tommy's waiting to soothe the professor +when he makes that discovery, and keep him +from coming on deck."</p> + +<p>She laughed guardedly, but there was no great spirit +of fun in either of us, and again we turned back to our +contemplation of the water, for a long time looking +down at it in moody silence. I instinctively felt that +she had not altered her decision.</p> + +<p>In the distance off our starboard bow a hairlike line +of slowly brightening silver, forerunner of the climbing +moon, touched the far horizon. It resembled a +shining lake upon a great dark waste, and I told her it +was my love trying to light my life that had turned to +night without her.</p> + +<p>I know we were subdued by the witchery that comes +with watching for the moon, because when its dome +appeared her fingers gently tightened on my sleeve; nor +did we speak until it stood serenely balanced upon the +world's edge, sending to our feet a silvery pathway that +twinkled on the waves. And then, by the merest accident +of our position as the yacht changed its course +among the keys, two far-off pine trees, appearing to move +out side by side across the sea, stopped in the center of +the moon. She caught her breath at the unusual beauty +of this. That sigh from her, and the mystic night, all +but drove me mad. My senses swayed with the throb of +some vast indwelling orchestra.</p> + +<p>"Let's take the silvery path," I whispered, putting +my arms about her. "Look, it leads to the gate of our +Secret world, where we first found happiness!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Jack," she pleaded—but I would not be +stopped, and words stumbled over each other in my +agony to persuade her.</p> + +<p>"It's Fate—your destiny! I can't change it, neither +can you! It spoke to us beneath our two big pines on +the Oasis; it's speaking to-night—saying you shall never +leave me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Jack, that's so impossible! He'll <i>make</i> me +go!"</p> + +<p>I saw the glitter of tears upon her cheeks, and answered +fiercely:</p> + +<p>"He can't, when I love you as I do!"—and whispered +over and over: "Sweetheart, sweetheart, I love you!"</p> + +<p>She had not moved. The moon, by this time high +enough to have mustered its forces, frosted the yacht +into the semblance of a dream-ship, and we might, indeed, +have been sailing upon some phantom lake in +fairyland. My eyes were pleading for hers until she +raised them—and then they could not turn away. Held +and blended by a mesmeric force, they began to give +and answer question for question, secret for secret. I +saw the quick pulsations in her throat, which seemed to +be beating in my veins, instead.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack," she whispered, laughing tremulously, +with a subdued madness that was made for such a night +as this, "let me go back to Echochee!"</p> + +<p>But I could only answer as I had before:</p> + +<p>"I love you—I love you!"</p> + +<p>"Darling, darling Jack," she begged, taking my +cheeks in her palms, "you mustn't—you really mustn't! +Let me go, dear!—Oh, I believe my throne is—is tottering!"</p> + +<p>"And my reason with it!" I cried, drawing her +quickly, passionately, up to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a long time a silvery yacht glided across a silvery +sea, while in far-off Azuria a throne did totter and +fall; but ten thousand loyal subjects smiled in their +sleep that night at a strangely happy dream, wherein +their little Princess was pressing upon the lips of an +unknown beggar the seal of her eternal sovereignty.</p> + +<p>When again we thought of the moon it had climbed +surprisingly high, making our shadow on the spotless +deck seem like a black rug beneath our feet.</p> + +<p>"Is it awfully late?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>"The moon's still up, sweetheart," I said.</p> + +<p>"Is it, dear?" she murmured, adorably sighing her +contentment at this evidence that the night must yet +be very young, indeed.</p> + +<p>And, finally, when moving stealthily like two happy +thieves we went down into the cabin, she blew a kiss +to the sleeping Thomas Jefferson Davis, then gave both +hands impulsively to me, and disappeared into her room. +After the door had closed, and I felt she would not open +it again, I shook Tommy's shoulder. He blinked at me, +mumbling:</p> + +<p>"Must have been asleep."</p> + +<p>"Must have been," I grinned down at him.</p> + +<p>And, when he saw my grin, he sat straight up and +grinned back at me—for it is in this way that men +sometimes understand each other.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE FINAL HOCUS-POCUS</h2> + + +<p>Doloria breakfasted in her room, but from the galley +I sent a note on her tray, among other important things +saying that I was about to break the news to Monsieur. +In her reply, surreptitiously delivered by Echochee, who +was smiling, she wrote—among still more important +things—"for Heaven's sake, break it into tiny little +pieces!" With this in mind, although having no idea +how I should succeed, I came up by way of the fo'castle +and walked aft to where Tommy and he were smoking.</p> + +<p>The open safe and three or four pipes belonging to +Gates lay on the floor between them, while the old skipper +who had taken the wheel was silently convulsed with +laughter as he watched the puzzled expression on Monsieur's +face and the innocence on Tommy's. My opportunity +seeming favorable, I said:</p> + +<p>"Professor, last night the Princess decided to give up +Azuria. She's promised to stay here and rule me; so +I'm giving notice that neither you, nor any one else, +can take her."</p> + +<p>He listened to this with more tolerance than surprise, +giving Tommy a look that implied his distress to see my +prostration taking the form of hallucinations. But +Tommy added:</p> + +<p>"It's on the square. Jack's put one over, and all he +asks is your blessing. Give it like a good sport, and, +we'll drink their health."</p> + +<p>"You are cut-upping," he gasped, staring with wide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +eyes—that perceptibly narrowed as he glanced down at +the pipes.</p> + +<p>"Call it what you please," Tommy imperturbably replied, +though I knew that he was not at all sure of his +ground, "but the Princess and Jack are going to be +married, and I rather fancy I'm to be best man. It +would be right decent of you, as the special emissary +plenipotentiary extraordinary fat-and-hairy agent from +Azuria, to give the bride away. I'm only suggesting +it."</p> + +<p>But the professor was on his feet, sputtering and +waving his arms in a torrent of rage.</p> + +<p>"It shall not be, it shall not be!" he cried. Then +suddenly he began to laugh, looking at us with a superior +air of cunning that made my flesh creep. "Why, +you are as pigmies with your childish schemes! You +suppose I have gone this far without arranging everything +to circumvent you, or anything you could do? +Bah!"</p> + +<p>"Circumvent till you're black in the face, you beloved +old rag doll," Tommy gave a mirthless chuckle, +"but the Princess doesn't go back with you—and that's +a cinch. She's going home with me, to visit my sister. +Don't you try to follow her, either, for I'm giving it +to you straight that you'd last about seventeen seconds +in Kentucky. Yes, Professor, I'd say that in Jefferson +county seventeen seconds would be a right venerable age +for you!"</p> + +<p>"That shows what small children you are," he +laughed contemptuously. "The minute we touch land +I order the first police to arrest her—and on my authority +he will not dare refuse! She is still a subject of +Azuria, and not of age according to its laws! Then I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>will lay the matter with our representatives in Washington, +and your President, fearing to disturb the consummation +of his League of Nations, will return her, of +course! This for your threats!" He snapped his finger +at us and began to fill his pipe.</p> + +<p>Who'd ever have thought the League of Nations would +treat me that way? Tommy saw murder rising in my +heart and gave me a warning look. Yet I could see from +his puckered forehead that he was pretty well up against +a stone wall. Our only hope of success, so far as my +mentality could work it out, was instantaneous manslaughter.</p> + +<p>Finally, amid a complete silence and under the professor's +supercilious smile, Tommy got up and went +below. Had I tried to enter the cabin, the old fellow +would have followed me.</p> + +<p>A sailor passed aft and whispered to Gates, who surrendered +the wheel, went forward and disappeared. +Ten minutes later he came back and took a seat near +us; affecting to be at his ease, but making a very poor +go at it. Soon after him came Tommy, carrying open +in his hands a large book, calf-bound and old. For on +the cabin shelves my father kept a lot of truck in the +way of old books that no one ever read. I saw, also, +that Tommy and Gates had reached an understanding.</p> + +<p>Of course, I was bursting to know what those conspirators +had up their sleeves. Tommy stood in the +middle of the cockpit, looking serious and thoughtful. +Now, in an impressive voice, he said:</p> + +<p>"Monsieur, Gates has been good enough to get out +his copy of American Marine Law, pertaining to the +obligations and powers of captains of American vessels +sailing upon salt water. Perhaps, after this brief preamble, +it would be tautological for me to continue with +what your overly acute mind must have by this time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +grasped; nevertheless, you will pardon me if I read you +a paragraph, that goes as follows: 'In cases of emergency, +where it is evident that a vessel can not in the +required time reach a port wherein there may with certainty +be found a civil officer of the United States of +America, or the captain of such vessel in any other circumstances +deems the request of the principals a proper +one and of sufficient warrant, he is thereby, and is hereby, +endowed with the right to perform the ceremony of +marriage according to the civil code of said United +States, and such ceremony, properly attested by two +witnesses, shall constitute the bonds of holy matrimony +before the world.'"</p> + +<p>At the beginning of this Monsieur had sprung up, +but before Tommy concluded he again sank into his +chair, breathing fast and blinking.</p> + +<p>"Gates," Tommy asked, "do you consider the request +of these principals a proper one and of sufficient warrant?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir," Gates answered.</p> + +<p>"You consider that the emergency in every way justifies +you to perform this ceremony of marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I do, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then, Jack," he turned to me, "suppose we say +high noon. It's a fashionable hour, and gives you a +little while to primp up."</p> + +<p>I gasped at him, unable to believe my ears; but before +I could speak Monsieur was again raving.</p> + +<p>"It shall not!" he yelled. "I say it shall not; for +now I, too, play a card!" And drawing from his pocket +a paper, discolored by wear and age, he flourished it in +our faces, crying: "By this authority I claim her as +my ward; both of us Azurians; and in the name of my +country I forbid the marriage!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gates," Tommy asked, without batting an eye at +Monsieur's grandiloquent outburst—which seemed to +me the absolute frustration of our plan, "we don't know +this man. He's a tramp we picked up at Key West. +Do you recognize his credentials, or would you say +they're forgeries?"</p> + +<p>"They look like forgeries to me, Mr. Thomas," the old +skipper answered at once, not being within ten feet of +Monsieur and his paper. "If I'm mistaken, sir, I'll +apologize when we get ashore, but I carn't see any +reason why the ceremony shouldn't take place at high +noon. If that's too early, Mr. Jack, we can sail back +to Key West—or New Oreleans."</p> + +<p>"But my authority," the professor cried, seeming on +the verge of apoplexy.</p> + +<p>Tommy closed the calf-bound book and tossed it over +to me, then turned Monsieur good-naturedly around and +pointed to the Stars and Stripes flying at our main +peak.</p> + +<p>"While you're on this yacht, my friend," he laughed, +"that's the authority, and <i>don't you forget it</i>!"</p> + +<p>I glanced at the volume of Marine Law he had tossed +to me. It was <i>Gibbon's</i> DECLINE AND FALL OF +THE ROMAN EMPIRE!</p> + +<p>Monsieur's beard began to twitch curiously. I +thought at first he was really intending to make the +best of things, but suddenly two great tears squeezed +from his eyes and rolled lumberingly over his cheeks; +then, as an unbridled torrential storm breaks in the +tropics, he threw himself face down upon the cushions +and wept—piteously.</p> + +<p>Tommy and I were thunderstruck. It gives one a +weird feeling to see a man shaken with grief. I was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>helpless and, there's no denying it, just a little remorseful. +As quick in sympathy as he was in resource, +Tommy crossed and put a hand on the old fellow's +shoulder, saying gently:</p> + +<p>"Buck up, Professor. This kind of thing won't do, +you know!"</p> + +<p>Then my surprise was most complete. Sitting now, +face buried in his hands, he brokenly told a story that +at times brought tears to our own eyes.</p> + +<p>When he finished I had visualized a scene begun +more than thirty years ago in the Royal Palace of +Azuria: an honorable young doctor, Court physician, +voluntarily surrendering his appointment because he +loved the King's younger daughter—Doloria's aunt; +the old ruler's searching eyes that sympathized even +while they censured—the aged hand that pressed with +understanding even while it took the proffered resignation. +Then the young doctor's quick departure; his +plunge into the Universities, trusting absorption of the +sciences to act as a panacea for his grief. Years later +his return to Azuria; their pure love still burning, +though unexpressed. At last the kidnaping; the quick +preparations for pursuit; and finally the girl, herself, +sweet with many confessions, bringing in her own hands +the old King's "authority"—this paper before us—which +commanded him to return the little Princess by +any means he could, his reward being the fulfillment of +his heart's desire.</p> + +<p>"And now," he moaned, rocking to and fro, "after +seventeen years of searching, I have won only to lose!"</p> + +<p>Truly, I was touched. Tommy turned quickly away +and blinked at the horizon. Yet neither of us knew +that all of this time Doloria had been standing in the +companionway door. She now crossed swiftly and sat +by the weeping man, impulsively drawing his grizzled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +head to her shoulder as a mother might have comforted +a hurt child. But toward me her face was turned, and +I saw that her startled eyes spoke into mine the entreating +message which distracted her—telling me that +we must acknowledge this claim of Monsieur's poor +heart before our own could ever be happy; asking me +what to do, since his title to happiness came first. Yet +all that her lips spoke was the trembling whisper:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack!"</p> + +<p>But he, with a new determination, sat quickly upright. +The warmth of a woman's sympathetic arms +upon a life that had been without comfort, the quick +intuition that she was pleading for him at a great cost +to herself, stirred the fineness of his nature, and he +cried:</p> + +<p>"Never! I have lived this long, and this long suffered, +enough to know the irony of that royal barrier! +Your aunt and I, dear child, are passing toward the +shadows of life, while you and my boy Jack are just +starting out. Your happiness shall not be cindered upon +a false altar—I swear it!"</p> + +<p>"Good old boy," Tommy murmured. "Do you mean +that, honest?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardieu</i>, have I not sworn it?"</p> + +<p>"And you wouldn't try to muddy the water again if +I confessed that our Marine Law was a hocus-pocus?"</p> + +<p>"What is that hocus-pocus?"</p> + +<p>"A no-such-a-thing."</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacré bleu</i>! I see! Pipes and iron safes and +hocus-pocus! But I do not care!" He turned to Doloria +and, taking one of her hands, said: "You, <i>mon +ami</i>, shall find your heart's best desire. It is I who say +it!—I, who have the authority!" The way he clung +to that authority was really pathetic.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It occurs to me, Monsieur," Tommy crossed and +looked down at them—and I saw that Doloria read in +his eyes the sadness of one who must remain outside +while others pass through to happiness—"that you, too, +can find your heart's best desire. Jack and our sweet +Princess will be leaving for Azuria as soon as passports +are procurable. Now, the day they arrive, you +might be moseying about the railroad station, borrow +her for an hour, and personally conduct her to the +palace. The late lamented King's royal authority contained +no stipulation about the missing child being returned +in a state of single blessedness, therefore the reward +is yours. Add that up, and see if it doesn't spell +Eureka!"</p> + +<p>Doloria turned to Monsieur with a glorious smile and, +being nearest, received the first hug as the light of +Tommy's reasoning burst upon him. Then he bounded +up and hugged me; but Gates and Tommy ran away, the +cowards, yet did a lot of laughing from a distance. +And now the forward watch called something, at the +same time pointing off our port bow. Low upon the +water lay Miami.</p> + +<p>Excitedly we took turns focusing the binoculars on +it, and after a little as we drew fairly near Tommy, +with a puzzled look, asked:</p> + +<p>"Who are those people on your Colonel's dock?"</p> + +<p>"My father, maybe. I wired him to come."</p> + +<p>"Boy, I mean the petticoats! Look at 'em—there're +two!"</p> + +<p>"Can you make out their faces?" I asked, having +a good time all to myself; for here was my chance to +return an obligation in the matter of courtships which, +if not cancelled, would furnish the versatile Tommy +with an anecdote I should never outlive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not yet," he mumbled, squinting more closely.</p> + +<p>"One's probably the Mater," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"I hope so," he smiled, lowering the binoculars. +"What was the toast you gave her, Jack?—'if romance +and adventure are alive I'll bring them home to you!'—wasn't +that it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we sailed out on that quest only seventeen +days ago. It seems incredible, doesn't it!"</p> + +<p>"It sure does," he chuckled, once more raising the +glasses. "You've put on seventeen pounds, too,—besides +a special chunk of 120, or thereabouts, which you +gained the night of the rescue. That's some record, +boy! See here," he asked quickly, "who the deuce +are those people, anyway! One has a mighty familiar +look!" And I could hardly keep from laughing as I +answered:</p> + +<p>"I think the Mater went by Louisville and picked up +Nell——"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, I <i>see</i> her," he yelled, so instantly and +irrepressibly delirious with joy that he let my binoculars +fall overboard, the chump.</p> + +<p>But now I saw that Doloria—which was the other +name for romance and adventure—had slipped away +from Monsieur; she had gone forward and, all alone, +was leaning against the foremast, gazing dreamily at this +new world and these new people who waited to take her +to their hearts. So I forgot Tommy, God bless him!—he +may have known a little about women, after all!</p> + + +<h2>THE END</h2> + + + +<h4 class="biggap">Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>Inconsistencies in the hyphenation and variations in spelling have been +retained as in the original.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wings of the Wind, by Credo Harris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINGS OF THE WIND *** + +***** This file should be named 30618-h.htm or 30618-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/1/30618/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Odessa Paige Turner and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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