The Argosy, September 1915 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. tiptoe and whispering. the habit so bad that they even do it to me.” | Sam’s brow was furrowed, and the look he devoted to Rosalind contained a perplexed inquiry. She did not meet his eyes for long. “At any rate [ don’t care to have you mention the matter,” she said firm- ly. “It’s nothing.” “Well, I think when a girl does a fine, brave thing like that she’s entitled to all the credit for it,” Reginald grum- bled. “ And to think of it being wasted en that boob, too!” Once more he inspected the boat- man. Then, as he studied the loose- jointed figure, surprise came into Reginald’s eyes. He looked back to Rosalind. “'That’s funny.” What? ” “ Why, his clothes are dry The boatman was having a convul- sion of some kind. His body twitched violently and bent almost double. “Oh, yes,” said Rosalind. “ You see, he was chattering so with cold or fright, probably both, that I told him he’d better put on some dry clothes. He had some in the cabin.” Sam managed to straighten himself. “ You told him?” repeated Reginald wonderingly. “Yes: he seems to have no initiative whatever.” “You don’t mean to say he heard your” Again the boatman had a seizure. “ Of course not,” answered Rosalind easily. “I had to write it on a piece of paper.”’ Sam turned abruptly and walked to the cabin. His shoulders were shaking. “He isn’t over it yet,’ commented Reginald. “T don’t imagine he will be over it for a good while,” said Rosalind a lit- tle savagely. “I think you may take me home now, Reggy.” The boatman stood in the doorway of his cabin, watching them descend the path. He was grinning broadly. ' They’ve got 287 Rosalind felt that she had in some measure achieved revenge for the in- dignity of her bath. It was no more of a falsehood than the story Sam had attempted to put into her mouth; cer- tainly it was better to be a heroine than a clinging creature. And by all odds it was an improve- ment on the preposterous and humilia- ting truth! , She and Reginald heard a clatter of footsteps behind them as they stepped into the Witherbee launch and turned to see the boatman running down the path. He was making gestures that were clearly intended to delay their de- parture, so they waited. As he reached the rock from which they embarked he dropped to his knees, stretched his arms wide and looked up at Rosalind with eyes that conveyed to her an expression of doglike devotion. If there was a hint of something else in them, it was not Sam’s fault. As an actor he was but an amateur. Before the lady in the wet gown could divine his purpose he seized her hands in his own, bent his head over them and began kissing them. Rosa- lind uttered a cry of disgust. His beard tickled! Also she detested senti- mentality. “The poor fellow is trying to tell you how grateful he is,” said Reginald. Rosalind struggled to release her hands, but the boatman clung to them. “Reggy! Make him let go!” she called sharply. Reginald laid a rough hand on the boatman’s shoulder and shook him. The man lifted his head and stared re- proachfully. Then he dropped Rosa- lind’s hands and sighed deeply. She found as she drew back with a little shudder of annoyance that in the palm of one hand there was a folded bit of paper. Instinctively, her fingers closed over it; there was no need of explaining more things to Reginald. Not until some time later, when the launch was far on the way to Wither- bee’s Island, did Rosalind find an op- portunity to examine it. Then, her “COMMEooOoKS (E@)