The Argosy, September 1915 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. not running fast. Now, when she does that, ought I to—” “Hire a mechanic!” she said sharply. “That’s what I thought,” he drawled. “T’ll be looking you up real soon at that rate.”’ Rosalind was gone. CHAPTER VII, NEW SLANTS. ‘THE boatman, after swinging well clear of Witherbee’s Island, hesi- tated as to his course. “‘ There might be an answer to-night,’ he muttered. “ Still, it’s pretty quick, seeing I only wired this morning. I guess I'll wait until to-morrow. I'll be stire to hear then.” Without further ado he headed the launch into the channel that runs be- tween Wellesley and Hill islands, fol- lowing a course so nearly midway be- tween them that the wake of his craft would have served as a visible boun- dary-line between the United States and Canada. Several motor-boats passed himgone hailed sharply, warn- ing him to show lights. He paid no attention, but steadily held his way. Half an hour of running brought him opposite a small, dark-spot on the water, around which he described a half-circle while he kept his eyes in- tently upon it. Then, apparently satis- fied, he headed in toward what proved to be a rocky, wooded island. There was a natural landing-place at the point he touched—a cove pro- tected on three sides by bulwarks of the gneiss rock that rises stalwart, here as elsewhere, out of the great St. Law- rence. Making fast his craft, he stepped ashore, and followed a narrow path that struggled over the stony surface, beset on either side by underbrush and small trees. The path ended at a cabin. He pushed open a door, entered, searched about in the darkness for a moment, 259 then struck a match and lighted the wick of a lantern that stood on a table in the center of the single room. The cabin was clean, plain, and cheerless. There was a cot in one cor- ner, a small iron stove, a shelf witha - few cooking-utensils, and one chair. “No place like home,” he comment- ed with a grin. “And I suppose I'll be kicked out of here if anybody gets wise.” He helped himself to a few crack- » ers from a tin box on the shelf, sat down, and began munching them in an absent-minded manner. Presently his wandering glance fixed itself upon a broken mirror that hung from a nail driven into one of the walls. He picked up the lantern, advanced across the cabin, and held the light so that he could survey himself in the glass. “You're a nice-looking object,” he assured his reflection as one hand stroked his beard. “I’ve got a mind—” A lidless cigar-box nailed against the wall contained a razor, a lather- brush, and half a cake of soap. He picked up the razor and once more studied himself in the mirror. “No,” he said, shaking his head slowly as he returned the razor to its place. “ Don’t get foolish. You can’t be useful and beautiful at the same time.” 3 He replaced the lantern on the table and went to the cot, where he stretched himself on the gray blankets and lay staring up at the roof-boards for many minutes. The boatman’s thoughts were apparently amusing, for once he laughed aloud, while many times he chuckled. “That was a close go last night,” he remarked, addressing himself to a knot-hole, through which, by a little maneuvering of his head, he could focus a brilliant star. ‘‘ Just a little closer and they’d have had me. It was the master mechanic who did the trick, “Some mechanic, too! A pal worth having, that lady—a sort of lucky strike, it looks to me. She’s not gentle . CORMICLOOKS (E@