The Argosy, September 1915 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. bad plan, that, either; not at all bad. Saves one a whole lot of bother, I should think.” “ Decidedly.” “Oh, yes, a lot of bother,” he went on aimlessly. ‘‘ But we can’t all do it successfully, you know. Deuced dif- ficult not to think about anything.” Rosalind’s caution was uppermost. This drawling Morton person was somewhat enigmatic. She could not tell exactly why, but she was ill at ease. Presently he seemed to remember something, for he turned toward the river, of which the summer pavilion commanded a sweeping view, took his field-glasses from his pocket, and de- voted himself to another of those sur- veys at which she had surprised him in the early hours. Rosalind watched in silence. “Not a sign,” he observed after a long scrutiny. “Of what?” “T— Oh, I beg your pardon. Did not know I had spoken—really. Noth- ing at all, Miss Chalmers; nothing at tae “Do you commonly look for noth- ing?” “ Had me there!” he exclaimed. “I suppose one doesn’t really look for nothing, even if one expects nothing. Why—I—I was just looking for a boat; that’s all. Nothing of impor- tance, I assure you.” Rosalind’s thoughts reverted to Sam, her burglarious boatman. What did this man know about him? Why had he questioned her so down on the wharf? 7 She was framing a guarded inquiry when Polly Dawson gurgled into the pavilion. “Oh, Mr. Morton! I thought we were to play tennis this morning,’’ she cried. “ Right you are! ” he assented—with surprising alacrity, Rosalind thought. “Upon my word, I'd forgotten, Miss Polly. Awfully kind of you to look me up. You'll excuse me, Miss Chal- ‘ 293 mers? Or will you join us at the courts? ”’ “T think I'll excuse you,” said Rosa- lind deliberately. He stared for a brief instant. “Why, yes; yes—of course. fully kind of you, too.” Polly Dawson had him by the arm and was insistently urging him in the direction of the courts. As they passed out of the pavilion Rosalind caught an- other glimpse of her bracelet. She gritted her teeth. “ Now, let’s see just where I stand,” she murmured to herself, and began checking off her thoughts on her fin- gers. ; Aw- CHAPTER VI. 53% DIRTY gray boat, quite too large for a skiff, was being slowly propelled against the current with the aid of a pair of oars. The man who furnished the power was talking tor- ridly to himself, to the boat, and to the oars, with occasional digressions in which he addressed himself to the river, the waning day, and the God- dess of Luck. He perspired a great deal more than he progressed. Once he paused to wipe his fore- head, an occupation which gave him opportunity to survey a near-by shore. Upon that shore he observed a lady walking. The lady was alone. The boatman — smiled. could easily understand why the lady was alone, provided her tongue had not been paralyzed. He remembered it as a tongue that fended people off. As he looked at the slowly moving figure it came to a halt. At the dis- tance and in the dusk the boatman could not be sure that she was look- ing at him, yet he rested on his oars, Waiting. He saw something wave —a scarf or a handkerchief perhaps. He smiled again behind his shabby beard. Then he headed his boat toward the shore. CORICLOOOKS He believed he - (C@)