The Argosy, September 1915 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

278 THE He tried to capture one of Rosa- lind’s hands, evaded his clumsy caress. ‘Please don’t begin that again,” she said in annoyance. “If you do I'll go home to-morrow.” “But, Rosalind, you know very well—” “Will you “Oh, very fair warning for good.” She sighed and frowned. “T thought I'd struck the limit of unsociability on the way down here,” observed Reginald. “ The fellow that brought me was deaf and dumb.” Really?” “ Couldn’t speak a word. Couldn't hear, either. | had to write on a piece of paper where I wanted to go.” “A boatman, was he?” “Yes. And the worst of it was, his boat broke down a couple of times on the way, and he didn’t seem to know much about fixing it. I couldn't help him, and he didn’t even have the satisfaction of being able to swear.” Rosalind found herself listening with breathless attention. “What sort of a boat was it?” she asked. : “Not much to look at. Rather dirty, too.” She had more than a suspicion. “What did the man look like?” carelessly. “A chap with a beard. Long, thin person. Why?” “Oh, nothing! I think I’ve seen him around. You say he is a deaf- mute?” ‘ Absolutely. I met him on‘ the wharf up at Clayton, and when I asked him a question about the boats he made signs at me. Then I felt sort of sorry for him, and thought I'd give him a job.” Rosalind’s brain was in a_ whirl. Sam, the boatman, playing deaf- mute! She could not even begin to guess a reason. ‘He knew where the place was, all stop?” well! But I give you that I haven’t stopped but she, alert, easily ARGOSY. right; I'll say that for him,’ added Reginald. ‘“ But it’s not particularly entertaining to be cooped up with a dummy in a bum boat for a couple of hours.”” “T should imagine not,” she mur- mured. “ But I did the swearing for him, anyhow. And—funny about that, too —he must have understood what [ was doing, for he grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head. It must be tough not to be able to do your own cussing.” “T don’t suppose it does afford much relief to do it with your fingers,” Rosalind agreed. “ That is,” she sup- plemented righteously, “if it ever does give one any relief. It’s a miserable habit.” “Tt’s not a habit,” said Reginald. “It’s a vocation, if you do it right. Who’s this coming?” Heavy, deliberate footfalls an- nounced the return of Mr. Witherbee from the meeting of the vigilantes. “Get your burlap?” inquired Reg- inald pleasantly. “ Burlap?” echoed Mr. Witherbee. Rosalind interposed hastily. “You must have forgotten your errand,’ she said, laughing. ‘ You know perfectly well you started out to get some burlap.” * Burlap?” Mr. Witherbee repeated the word with a rising inflection. Rosalind had slipped behind Reg- inald and was making a frantic panto- mime. ‘The master of the island stared at her for a few seconds, wrinkling his forehead. “Why, certainly,” she said. ‘ Don’t you remember saying you were going to see if Mr. Davidson had some? ” “Oh, yes,” answered Mr. Wither- bee slowly. “ Come to think of it, I did start out to get some. And just as you say, I forgot all about it. By the way, sit down, Williams. Take it easy. You must be tired after a long day’s journey.” “Everybody seems to think I’m EORMNICLOOOKS (C@)