The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

256 “But Wilbur—” “So we'll have to give up the idea of a cooked breakfast—which is what I wanted to break first and gently to you,” chuckled Mr. Farnham. “But we needn’t go quite hungry. Can you stand the sight of sand- wiches again, Jane?” “Where are they?” Jane asked simply. Mr. Farnham rose with a happy laugh. “Hidden,” said he. “So many things had happened up to that time, that when it came to buying sandwiches again yesterday, I took the man aside and had him make up a special emergency package, and it is as well that I did. Hapworthy made a raid on the visible supply last night just before they left; his wife insisted on it and I couldn’t beat him off without waking you. But the ones I cached were the best of the bunch!”” Mr. Farnham spoke quite complacently as he opened the back door of the car. Jane drew nearer. “T don’t know just what they’re serving in breakfast sandwiches this season,” Mr. Farnham rumbled on pleasantly, as he turned his attention to the studiedly care- less pile of odds and ends in the corner, “but these are mostly fresh cream cheese and tongue and ham, and they’re all nice and thin and all done up in heavy waxed paper. and they’ll be a great big improvement on yesterday’s breakfast. “T hate to say such a thing about people who ought to be charming, but I believe we lost our hard luck when we lost that Hapworthy atmosphere, Jane. Hereafter everything will be swift, smooth, lovely and satisfactory. Yesterday was our hoodooed day, but to-day—”’ His voice trailed off as he bent lower. Jane waited through one long polite min- ute; and then, since they were in the real wilds and necessarily more elemental than usual, she asked with eagerness uncon- cealed: ‘“Haven’t you found.them yet, Wilbur?” ‘“Well—er—Jane,” said Mr. Farnham, as he straightened up siowly, ‘As a mat- ter of fact—no!” ‘““Hapworthy took them?” “Squirrels took them,” sighed the large young man, as he pointed to the pile of. paper scraps and crumbs that alone re- mained to testify of a breakfast that was no more. “That must have been the rus- tling that woke me once or twice about dawn.” THE ARGOSY. He tried to smile whimsically. Coming face to face with Jane’s expression just now he could not smile at all; there was that in the expression which, to Mr. Farnham’s mind, told her whole story without a single word. “Why, you poor child!” he cried. youre as hungry as all that—”’ “It—it isn’t just hunger,” Jane faltered. “And I suppose it’s silly, but—I wish you hadn’t said that about losing our hoodoo.” “Rh P”? “Because those sandwiches going seems almost like an omen for this new day!” Mr. Farnham’s head came up with an angry jerk and he slammed the door of the car. “Tt’s nothing of the kind,” he said, “and I was an idiot to say such a thing. Your whole trouble is that excitement and irreg- ular meals and everything else are turning that poor little imagination feverish and— don’t you worry!” Mr. Farnham leaped at the tent and tore it bodily from the earth and began to gather its folds even before the last peg had been jerked free. “We'll jam some food and some sanity into this day so fast that you’ll never see them coming! It can’t possibly be more than two-or three miles to the nearest farm house, and once we’re there we'll start the day right!” There was something very reassuring about him; watching him from her seat in the car, Jane felt hope returning swiftly. Five minutes .of this rapid motion and their camp would be broken; and even now the tent had been piled into the back of the machine as a shapeless huddle and Mr. Farnham was pouring their spare gasoline into the tank and hurling away the empty cans with a blithe word of farewell for each. When presently he bounded into the car and reached down for the starter, Jane thrilled with confidence and perfect faith in Mr. Farnham’s ability to do everything that must be done—for such is the resil- iency of youth and its capacity for forget- ting the unpleasant past. And now, their forgiving engine running sweetly as ever, they had backed from the clearing and into the road; and Mr. Farn- ham paused and gazed at that familiar open space with an eye that was almost fearful. Thrice already they had attained that spot without being able to advance another yard toward Batesford; once weariness had “Tf © JOOKS AUG (C@