The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

HAMPTON OF slowly. ‘Your canoe is lost, I think. Canoes won’t stand pounding on the rocks very long.” “That’s a small matter,” returned the man with a shrug. “It was a toss-up an hour ago whether I’d ever need a canoe again. It looked for a few minutes as though I should bother no one but the coroner. Thanks to you, I shall now go . on needing food and clothes and shelter. My name, by the way, is Exmoor—Irving Exmoor.” Jerry acknowledged the introduction with a courteous bow. “My name is Jeremiah Hampton,” he returned simply. “I think,” he added, “that we’d better move as soon as you feel able. We shall get chilled through here, and you must be in pretty bad shape. If you want to wait I’ll go and find some sort of a carriage for you.” “No, no!” the man replied, almost sharply; “don’t do that! My recupera- tive powers are unusual; I shall be able to walk. You may know of some small road-house, or something like that, where I can get a room without attracting atten- tion. I look so much like a weather- beaten scarecrow that I wouldn’t like to appear among many people.” “Tf you like, you may come home with me,” said Jerry. “There’s no one there but my grandmother, and I think we can get there without being seen by any one that would especially notice us. It’s dark nearly all the way, and it isn’t very far to walk. I take it that you don’t live anywhere around here, Mr. Exmoor.” “No—no, I don’t live—anywhere around here,” the man replied in a pecul- jarly abstracted way, and said no more. Jerry was puzzled, if not a trifle piqued, by the mystery thus lugged into the case. He was tempted to ask the man bluntly where he did live, but his sense of cour- tesy prohibited open curiosity. Exmoor’s clothing was shapeless in its waterlogged condition, and it clung to his frame in a ludicrous manner, but the observer could see that it was of excellent quality. The white outing shirt was of THE HEIGHTS. 33 silk, the coat and trousers were of gray flannel, and the low shoes were white buckskin, The man’s pale face, with its large, frank eyes, brown mustache, and pointed beard, showed refinement, and his manner spoke of authority and distinction. “You are a young man, Mr. Hamp- ton,” Exmoor said suddenly, “and you have done a very courageous and gallant thing. It’s natural for men, and especially young men, to enjoy the praise that is one of the rewards of gallantry. Accord- ing to custom, your picture should appear in every newspaper to-morrow, with an account of your achievement, and it would be little enough glory for what you have done. I cannot even ask you to fore- go such notoriety, for it is your right, but for reasons of my own I shun publicity.” Jerry regarded him narrowly, a little coldly. “Tf don’t care for notoriety, though I have no reason to fear it,’’ he returned. “T didn’t pull you out of the water to win glory or praise. It’s unlikely that I’d run to the newspapers and tell them all about it, and I’m pretty sure that there were no witnesses. The thing seems to be between you and me absolutely.” “I’m sorry that I have to appear mys- terious,” said Exmoor; “I can’t deny that I am talking to you in circles. As it is, you would do no more than is logically right if you went to the police station and reported the affair. If your conscience urges you to do so, I can’t raise any ob- jection, but I must beg leave to part with you here. I can only thank you and go away; then your next move is entirely up to you. You are a person of good man- ners, you speak and act like a well-bred man, so I should hesitate to suggest any reward of a substantial nature—” Jerry interrupted him. “You are right about that,” he de- clared. “I would not accept pay for help- ing a man out of trouble. I don’t think we need talk about it much more. If you are able to walk and you wish to go away by yourself, my part of the affair ECOPMICLOOOKS (E@)