Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Secret of Caprice | 43 boat, high sided and staunchly built, her oak frames and cedar planking equal to any sea she was likely to encounter, and her engine possessing a good reserve of power for any emergency. She could stand the trip down the coast to that inlet twenty miles below—— As the thought of the camp down there came to him, there came also in a flash the _reason that there was something familiar about Stephen Blaydon. He heard the deep voice again as he had heard it before in the silence of the moonlit night, calling, “Oh, Carter, come down here and get this engine started, will you?”’ There could be no doubt about it now. The tones came to him again clearly in memory. Stephen Blaydon was in com- mand of the gang down there. It had been for Stephen Blaydon that the man Carter had risen respectfully from the fire. It was, therefore, to Stephen Blaydon that he and Phil must look for an explanation of that attack in the night when the shot from Carl’s revolver had spoiled whatever plans it was that the assailants had had. As the full significance of all this came to him, Ward recalled as best he could the words in which he had told Stephen Blay- don about the incident. He thanked his good fortune for the instinct that had im- pelled him to relate it only in its barest outlines. He had not mentioned the names of Carter or Matt nor had he indicated in any way that he had a suspicion of who the men might be. - Above all, he was glad that he had not told of the events that had followed after he had landed Phil Conway at the station up Dorsey’s Creek—of his sight of the speeding boat cutting its phosphorescent wake through the waters of the Inlet and on down the coast, of his pursuit and his landing and of his stealthy creeping down the shore until he was in a position to see. and hear the things that took place around the camp-fire, He ate his breakfast in thoughtful si- lence, giving only moody nods or grunts in answer to Carl’s enthusiastic eulogy of the generous and sportively inclined gentleman who had joined their little colony. The mechanician was too ardently full of his subject to notice at first the preoccupation of his employer, but when, at last, he could overlook it no longer, he shot a sharp glance of inquiry at Ward, nodded his head sagely, and his garrulity suddenly ceased. He busied himself with the breakfast dishes as Fenton filled and lighted his pipe, but the smoke clouds had scarcely assumed the deep blue of perfect drawing before the mechanician hurried up to him. “Cheese it, Chief,’ Carl said. ‘The big machine with the leaky compression is headed this way.” Ward looked up interrogatively. “*The—what?” he asked. “You know; the cute little party with the high-speed pump. She’s standing up on deck now looking like she’d rather do a Brodie than take a chance on the ladder. If she jumps, there’ll be an earthquake.”’ Ward rose and knocked the tobacco from his pipe. He walked around the tent and came into view of the yacht in time to see Mrs. Herriot putting out one fat, experi- mental foot over the edge above the highest rung. She saw him at once and withdrew the foot. “Young man,” she called, “you turn your head the other way. I’m about to come down this ladder.”’ Ward laughed and turned his back. “That won’t do,” she said. “You go on back to your tent, and Pil be with you some time during the morning.” He obeyed without further protest, and in a few minutes heard her deeply drawn breaths come sounding up to him. “Carl,” he said, “I understand now what you meant by the leaky compression. [I can hear it.” She came up florid and warm, but beam- ing exultantly. “There!” he exclaimed triumphantly. | “It didn’t take quite as long as I expected. Say, you—’’ she turned to Carl—“‘T’ll give you five dollars to build a set of steps up to that deck by dinner-time.”’ Carl slapped the pocket that already con- tained the bill he had earned earlier in the morning. “You can pay me tonight, ma’am,” he said. “T’ll get to work right away.” “Lord, but I’m lonely down here,” Mrs. Herriot moaned, turning to Ward again. “Come for a litte walk on the beach with me. I want to hear somebody talk with- out quarreling.” “Quarreling?” F enton asked in surprise. “T hope you haven’t had a disagreement on the yacht.” ‘“‘No; Lhaven’t.. But, after I went to bed Gomichbooks (E@) _ . >