Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

Gaston Olaf and Big Business why he should not look the whole world in the face. He an outcast,.a criminal! Ethel laughed as her woman’s intuition replied to these charges—she knew they were not true. Having arrived at this knowledge she placed her elbows upon her knees, dropped her firm little chin into her hands, and wrinkled her forehead as she sought to penetrate further into the situation. It wasn’t true, of course, for the simple reason that it couldn’t be, but— Ray knew something. What was it he had said? ‘He won’t trouble you much longer.’ He had dropped that remark with a cold care- - lessness which he had adopted from Brad- ley. Ethel sat up straight. Just like Bradley. Her mind flew ina whirl. Brad- ley, Bradley, Bradley! What was he go- ing to do? Something wrong, something unfair. It must be, if Thorson was to be made to appear as a criminal. What was it to be? Who was responsible? She rose and moved to the window, gaz- ing out at the wonderful Northern stars which filled the sky. Intuition whispered insistently that treachery of some sinister sort was rushing upon Thorson and Pine, and there was no one to warn them. ‘Walter would do it if he knew,” she mused, thinking kindly of Loomis. But Loomis was away inspecting a string of claims. Then the firmness of resolution came suddenly to her mouth and she caught up her mackinaw and cap and went forth. The sleepy half-breed_stable-boy in charge of the livery-stable where her pony, Brad- ley’s: gift, was sheltered, finding a bank- note thrust into his hand agreed to forget that she had come for a night ride. He saw nothing, heard nothing, knew nothing. Ethel mounted and rode away from the lighted street until she found the lake road, then with a cut of the whip she sent the pony flying through the night, bound for the mill. ; Gaston heard her coming from afar, the sound of galloping hoofs on a frosty road. With the woodsman’s caution he stepped behind a tree and waited. Ethel pulled up to a walk as she neared the mill, and speaking softly so the pony might not shy, the young man stepped out into the road. “Miss Drake!’’ he gasped when he recog- nized her. ‘“‘You—out here alone!”’ “I had to come; there was no one else. I had to see you.” IOI “Wait, wait!” He looked around. Men might pass along the road, and men in the bush have simple notions concerning night meetings between a woman and a man. “‘Come this way.” He caught the pony’s head and led it to an open space in the timber out of sight and hearing from the road. “Now what is it, Miss Drake? What’s the matter?” “It’s you!’ she whispered. you—but you’re in danger.” “I know that, in a general way,” he said gravely. “I have known for some time.”’ Ethel Drake recalled her brother’s words, and for an instant she grew chill with fear. “You knew? Then there is—some reason?” She could go no further. In agony she sat waiting for his reply, the throb of her heart and the pony’s breathing loud in the night silence. Gaston stood rubbing the pony’s nose with exasperating deliberation. “Yes, there is a reason.” ‘‘Not—not something you have done?” “Yes. Something I’ve done.” “Oh!” She threw herself from the pony. “‘Tell me—am I wrong about you? Tell me what it is.” He looked down wonderingly at her pale, troubled face. “Don’t you know what it is, Miss Drake?” “IP No!” “‘Then I can not tell you.” “Can not? Cannot tell me? You don’t mean that you are—guilty—No, no; you aren’t.”’ “Guilty? Why did you say that?” ‘“‘Ah!” she cried clasping her hands. “TI knew it wasn’t true; you wouldn’t look like that if it were true.” Gaston stared in bewilderment. “Let me try to understand this, Miss Drake. Evidently you’ve heard something about me. Can you tell me what it is?” “No. No, I can’t tell you. I don’t need to know, because now I know it isn’t true.” ‘“You’d better tell me,” he insisted. “T’d rather not, much rather. Well, if you demand it; a—a man—I can’t tell you who—said that you were a—a criminal, “T can’t tell and that everybody soon was going to know _ it, and that you wouldn’t be here much longer to—trouble anybody. So I came COMmMicloo CO