The Argosy, November 1908 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

608 e There could be but little breeze down in that hole. ‘I’m going to try it,” I replied final- ly. “If it goes on the other side I’ll make another.’ I confess that my knowledge of boat- making was limited. I could row a boat. But I couldn’t whittle out a little man to row this boat to Consuelo. Rudders were things of mystery to me. But I went at it with a will and a sharp knife, and the three Moquis stood and watched me with owl-like faces, try- ing to understand what I was doing. This wasn’t to be an elaborate toy boat such as are sold in the stores. All I wanted was something that would sail. I was afraid of a simple flat piece of wood. As I progressed, one of the two, who seldom spoke, gave a grunt. He quiet- ly took the knife out of my hand, went to a tree, examined it, and stripped off a piece of bark. Then began some Indian stunts, By whittling a piece of wood to make a needle, and by stripping the bark for thread, he had ready at hand his working material. And in an hour I had a bark canoe that would float. But I still had sense enough to know that it would not carry a sail without ballast. I fastened a key I had on my ring to the bottem, and felt that this key would hold the thing steady in what- ever light wind it might encounter on the lake. Of course, when he had built a canoe’ of bark, the Indian had gone as far as he could. The rest of it was as big a mystery to him as it was to me. I fastened a little cleat at one end for the mast. Next I made the latter. Then I was stuck again. If I wrote my message on paper and the boat tipped over, the message would be destroyed. JI had nothing with which to write on cloth. I had not, on my San Diego fig farm, reached the ee of a fountain pen. Ink, Yo <saids One of the Indians darted away and _returned in ten minutes with some ber- ries. “Write much good,” he said. I waited no longer. THE ARGOSY. “ Here,” I said. ‘“ Take my knife and cut off the sleeve of my shirt.” CHAPTER XVII. THE PIRATE SHIP. I pip not, of course, intend to use the entire sleeve, and stopped him when I had enough. I put my mind next on the method of using this. I knew there was such a thing as a lug-sail, and had seen pictures of the kind of vessels using them. So I fashioned the linen in a square, and then put on the yard. “ Now,” I said, “we've got everything but the message.” The berries were bruised, and their juice was a dark reddish fluid that smelled horribly and would probably stain the soul of a cast-iron monkey as red as a fiend’s. ‘Now my turn,” said the old Moqui. “You write this: At night when the guns are fired she and Namona come to you in the ravine. You meet them at the gorge and go back to that cave. Stay there till I come to you. -We must have horses. If they come, keep inside the cave and shoot.” It was the very thing. There was food in the cave, and I knew when I was there before that I could hold it against a dozen. Trying to make my writing as legible as possible, I wrote this message: My bDEAR WIFE: I am here, watching you. I have some Moquis. They will attack your place at night. When you hear the guns and have a chance, get Namona and come to the mouth of the gorge where the stream empties into the lake. I will meet you there. Fear nothing. If you don’t want to go back, I will know if you do not come. If you do want to go back dig in the sand with your foot. Your loving husband, Joun DENNY, I read this to Billy. ‘‘ Good,” was all he had to say. I now fastened on the sail, and with a feeling that somehow the plan could not fail, I went down the steps to the stream. I found a quiet little pool in which to try my boat before I sent it on the voyage conmicloooks.conn