The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

50 As the launch slowed up and slued her bow toward us, we both bent over and grabbed the nose. Three men stepped to land. One of these, wearing the uniform of a French naval officer, was smiling and courteous, and at first the spokes- man. The second to come from the boat was an inspector of the Depart- ment of Safety of Paris. The third, grave, stern, dressed in_ civilian’s clothes, was evidently an American. “Good day, m’steurs,’ said the French officer, bowing. “ This is not such a beautiful country as_ yours. What is it, may I ask?”’ Ordway glanced at me. The officer had spoken in French, and my French was better than Ordway’s, and not per- fect at that. ‘“T fancy, sir,” I answered, “ you know about as much as we do. We are Americans, and reached this place only after a harrowing experience on an iceberg. My companion’s name 1s Ordway; mine Dagwell. Both pretty well known in New York.” : ‘Are you Homer Dagwell and John Ordway, the travelers and hunters? ” asked the American in surprise. “ We are those miserable creatures,” I replied. | ‘““My name is Collins. I am from the embassy. I suppose you know the trouble. We saw Sanderman’s air- ship, and knew he must be here.” “But you?” I said. “Is it part of the embassy’s business to hunt down Americans? ” He smiled. “JT am not engaged in hunting him down. Of course, the French govern- ment would scour the earth. I came along to see that he got fair play.” “Good. Then we can negotiate, if that is the proper word, without fear. But we are speaking English, which is impolite.” ‘ Not at all,” said the French officer. “MM. Ravary and I speak English and understand it.” “We have here,” I went on, “ little to offer in the way of hospitality. Our THE ARGOSY. home is a cave, our food what we shoot and catch. Of wines and liquors we have none. We cannot offer you even a cigar.” The French officer laughed. “It seems to me,” he said, “ that when our disagreeable task is over, and the hot-headed young American San- derman, is safely aboard the Vigilante, it is for us to offer hospitality. How long have you been in this solitude? ” “Several weeks. And for weeks before that we were drifting around in the Arctic on a field of ice.” “Mon Dieu! And you apologize because you cannot offer hospitality. .M. Ravary, what do you think of that?” “T think we are wasting time in a lot of unnecessary talk. JI came here not to accept nor dispense hospitality. I came to arrest a murderer.” I took a violent dislike to Mr. Ravary at once, and as strong a liking to the naval officer. But then—a policeman is not trained to be polite, and the off- cers of the navy are invariably so. “ All in good time, my good friend,” said the naval officer. “It would scarcely do to plump ourselves down on two unfortunate men who have been in much trouble themselves and treat them as though they were harboring a criminal.” “What would you have, then?” ab- ruptly asked M. Ravary. “It would be well,’ I said, some ruffled myself, “to know with whom we have to deal. If with the captain, we shall get along very well; but if the police force of Paris supposes we can be browbeaten at the start, the Vigi- lante would do well to return to French waters. The flag of the United States is the only flag we recognize here.” The inspector started violently. “So! How is that?” “ Because it is so.”’ “ But —1is this an American terri- tory?” “So far as we are aware, the Amer- ican flag is the only flag that ever waved over this island. In the name CoOMmicbook CO