The Argosy, September 1915 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

242 Another shot sounded, but it went wide. The boatman took a knife from his pocket and cut the rope from which the skiff trailed in their wake. Miss Chalmers uttered a cry of despair at his action. “We can’t tow dead wood and ex- pect to get away—not in this tub,” ex- plained the boatman. ‘““J—I don’t want to get away!” she exclaimed. “Vou don’t?” There was genuine astonishment in his voice. “ Then why in Sam Hill did you start that en- gine? ”’ She felt there was no fitting reply, so said nothing. Soon there was a new sound from the rear, or rather a jumble of sounds —a shout of warning, a crash, a splin- tering of wood. “There goes one of Mr. Wither- bee’s skiffs,” commented the boatman. “They ran it down.” The lady who sat on the floor made no comment. She had no compunc- tions concerning the skiff, but she was suddenly alarmed over her own plight. How would she get back now? ‘“He’s gaining some,” observed the boatman after a short interval. told you I wasn’t a speed-king.” Miss Chalmers’s mind once more detached itself from her predicament. She rose to her knees and stared out over the stern. What the boatman said was true. The launch behind was now clearly visible. “At this rate he’ll get us in about five minutes,” added the boatman after another inspection. She made a dive for the engine and began tinkering with the spark. They must escape! It would be too humili- ating, too utterly beyond explanation to be caught now. She coaxed a few more revolutions out of the engine. It did not trouble her that she was trying to cheat the law of its prey. She was wholly solicitous for the reputa- tion and the dignity of Rosalind Chal- mers. sé +. THE ARGOSY. “We're doing better than eight, now, she said defiantly. - “We haven’t got the trunks,’ he explained. ‘“ But Tl bet she can’t go nine.”’ Couldn't she? Miss Chalmers pur- posed to see. She mothered the en- gine again, touching it here and there deftly and tenderly, adjusting a screw, listening, adjusting again, doing a dozen things that the boatman would not have thought of doing. The en- gine responded gallantly. “That’s the first time I ever heard it purr,” he said, in admiration. “* You don’t happen to. be the inventor of that engine, do you?” She ignored the question. She was too busy trying for that nine miles. But still the stern boat gained—not so rapidly as before, yet consistently. “T can't do any more,” she said des- perately. “‘ You've got to do the rest. Do you understand? You've got to!” “Yes, ma’am,” answered the boat- man. mean channel?” “ Anything!” she cried. “That’s funny,’ he chuckled, “ for a lady who doesn’t want to get away. I was going to take the chance any- how. Sometimes I make it and some- times I miss it. I’ve been aground there six times. This is the first time I ever tackled it at night.” Miss Chalmers looked over her shoulder and saw that they were rap- idly approaching land. “You're running straight ashore!” “ Maybe—if I don’t hit it.” By hitting “it” he meant a channel, into which they plunged a moment later. It was very narrow and very dark, and it served to make two islands where the casual observer thought there was only one. “If we don’t pile ourselves up this is going to be about as clever a thing as I ever did,” remarked the steers- man genially. “If we do hit anything you'll find a life-preserver under the starboard seat. In any event I'll lay you three to one they don’t follow us.” CORMICLOOOKS “Will you take a chance in a® (C@)