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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 2, 1906)
THE STJXDAT OREGCTNTAX.' "POTnX'AJTD.' SEPTEIBER 3,1906.. 45 N'GTON U B tj - II J -4bY LOUISE LEX! r ARTLETT GORDON, leaning idly f against the veranda railing. wa swearing softly to . himself and wondering why he had been such a fool as to come down to the beach at this particular time, when that cad, Archie Freeman, was invited along with him self. . Simply because Daphne ' Vanderpool, whom he had not seen in five years, was to be one of the house guests at his hostess" Summer home. "And because the girl of 18 had been gracious, he thought it not Improbable that the woman of 23 would be willing to take up the friend ship where they had left off. Last night's ball had plainly shown him his error. Ah! she had been radiant last night, in that shimmering gown which showed the wonderful whiteness of her faultless shoulders. But she had been distantly cold, at least toward him self, if not Freeman, and It was hard to believe she was the same girl who had gone through school with him, his com rade and chum. And so he swore softly, and whistled, and wondered why so many really nice girls tolerated such a puppy as young Freeman. "And here I've been thinking of her every hour for five years!" he declared savagely. Bartlett Gordon tried to be honest with himself, and had no thought of exagger ating the facts, but a. score of pretty girls would have doubtless been sur prised at his assertion. And If the mem ory of a pair of sweet gray eyes owned by one of the score, consoled him now, In, his utter desolation, it was because his pricfe had suffered beyond expres sion. His beautiful setter thrust a cold nose Into his master's hand sympathetically, but Gordon repulsed hint gloomily. "Why did we come, Donald boy?" he asked, and Just then Daphne Vanderpool, a vision in blue, descended the stairway; anj as his heart leaped forward to greet her, he knew why. There was but one girl in the world, after all. The others didn't count were forgotten never ex isted! There was but one regally poised head, crowned with a wealth of glorious red hair; but one pair of deepest ceru lean eyes, and but one dainty, blue gown tn the world, and they belonged to Daphne Vanderpool, and high heaven willing to himself some day! Her "good morning" was cheerfulness Itself, and Gordon begged the privilege of taking her in to breakfast. "Your eyes are so bright, and your gown Ls so becoming, that I am almost afraid." he told her. "But your smile reassures me, for it is the smile of the girl I used to know, and I long to call you Daphne." "Well," she returned roguishly, "since you have that longing, I may as well confess to you that my dearest delight is to be called to breakfast! Compli ments before that event do not partic ularly please me; I actually Jieep wish ing they were nice hot muffins, you know. Shall we go in?" And because their hostess, blessed with savolr falrey had properly trained her maids, they two had their breakfasts to gether, without waiting for the others. who did not begin straggling In until they were finishing. And Daphne was most charming throughout, even pouring Gordon's coffee for him, although he could never rightly tell afterwards whether he drank it or not, so pregnant with tender associations had been the simple act. After breakfast Daphne vanished above stairs, soon descending again wearing a straw bonnet tied under her chin. One great beautiful bow, of the color to match her gown and her eyes, that caressed her little left ear, and Bartlett Gordon's demoralization was complete. He stood in the doorway, and, pre tending to jest, would not permit her to pass. In truth, he could not, He longed, to run away with her, in rude primeval fashion, to some deserted Island, where no eyes save his own should ever gaze upon her loveliness. His action of standing across her path thus, savored of masterfulness or 111 manners, either sufficient to make Daphne angry. She was capable of cru elties of speech when angry, and her manners of the night before when Gor don had inadvertently Reminded her of a promise made In the past returned now, and she drew herself up haughtily'. "I am going for a walk!" she said, calm ly, but with a look that should have warned him. "Just for one moment," he answered, not noticing her change of manner, "I scarcely got a glimpse of you last flight, only that one little dance, you know. You seemed so far away and so coldly light. Just like some glittering star and I was one of the Wise Men, who followed it. This morning you are more human, more like a sunbeam; and so I have renounced all of my wisdom to become a sun-worshiper. You have no Idea how charming you look in that gown." "Please; I am going for a walk!" Her tones were measured, clear-cut and incisive, as though determined, somehow or other, to probe such density. But Gordon was blinded to everything save the beautiful picture she made standing there in the sunlight. "I should count it the privilege of my life." he began, but she inter rupted: "I prefer solitude, thank you!" "But tell me" "I have told you!" "Dear!" The mere tone was of itself enough to give pause to a girl of her heartless na ture, and accompanied as it was now with a gesture of absolute hopelessness, the wor-1 became the "vehicle of passionate tenderness. "You are so inconsiderate!" murmured Daphne, with sweeping lashes. "You are as considerate as usual." came the reply, .with a sigh of patient resignation. And then Gordon's face brightened perceptibly, with an illuminat ing Idea. "Do you know," he exclaimed, "if I might kiss you. I believe I should not annoy you so much for a little while." "You are a brute!" indignantly. "You are an angel, and I adore you," defiantly. "Oh. how can you say such things?" protestingly. I i : : T ' ' " " i mwMWRm?&. Jmm.$WMAa 4iB&&r3figi fife -v . "How can I help saying thera?" reck lessly. "But last night you promised not to say them to be good" accusingly. "Last night I was a fool!" conclusively. "How could you be a fool, if one of the Wise Men?" provokingly. "Er I meant you see the Wise Man was but a figure.. You must have under stood," helplessly. "I now understand it was something of the sort that it could not be really true?" sarcastically. "And so must you understand that a fellow, despite his promises, ls not going to be really good after five years!" des perately. "Not if he wishes to make somebody happy." engagingly. "Not if he wishes somebody to make him happy!" selfishly. Daphne glanced longingly at the open door behind the tall, athletic form. She had never, In all her life, lowered the flag in a warfare of words or wit, and had no present intention of doing so. Suddenly bethinking herself of -the low window which stood open, near the stairs, she as suddenly stepped backward and vault ed lightly through it, putting her beauti ful head within again to say: "I am going for a walk!" triumph antly. "And I am going to the devil!" trag ically. Picking up his gun, Gordon strode swiftly away, and Daphne, furtively watching to see what direction he took, saw him pat his dog's head and send him back to the house. A half hour before Gordon had been most reluctant to leave, to keep a cer tain appointment with a poetic youth who owned a camera. But now it was a distinct relief. He wished, however, he had not promised to loan him his gun. He envied him the long day's sport in the woods, and had half a mind to offer to go along as it was. Mean while he found his pipe most' com forting; the morning was faultless; there were four long hours in which he need give no account of himself, and there were some half dozen chapters of a most interesting novel to be pe rused in his banishment. .Surely life was still worth the having! . . Once arrived at the "Giant's Chair," the place upon- which they had agreed as a rendezvous, Gordon found he must wait, and in a twinkling the "Giant's Chair" became a couch. It seemed more trbublesdme to read, too, than he had anticipated; therefore he knocked the ashes from his pipe, put the book beneath nis head, and fell to pondering, with half-closed eyes. Oh, Daphne, wny, wny did you ever go away on that long visit to' the rich aunt? Why doesn't the camera youth, with, the poet's heart, show up? Why did I promise him, like an imbe cile, to pose for my picture this morn ing? Why should an innocent-looking blue bow. under the left ear,' prove so distracting? Why does the measuring worm go on measuring? .Why is Arch Freeman, notwithstanding his cox- ( , DAPHNE PRESSED HER WARM LIPS combry, invited to meet intelligent people? Why can't a fellow keep awake?" And none of these mys teries were ever solved, . for Bartlett Gordon was as fast asleep as was Lit tle By Blue on that. fateful day of the raiding of the corn. It had been late when he retired, and early wnen he arose and the sun was warm and the silence soothing. The camera youth kept his appoint ment, but not until his friend was far beyond the reach of a gentle hint in the The Mystery of Continued Front' Page 38. old man, with a cry of joy, flung himself upon a long, narrow box, which was ly ing at the feet of the skeleton. My own excitement was scarcely less than his. I felt a wild exultation that even the pres. ence of the ghastly relic at our feet could not repress. Here were we in the heart of this rock, where for nearly a century and a half had lain unmolested the vast fortune which now lay uncovered before us. At length, recovering my composure somewhat, I turned to the old man, who crouched in the fitful glare of the torch light upon his white beard and gleaming eyes, beside the box and caressed It with trembling hands as though it were a liv ing thing. His aspect frightened me; he looked so like a madman. However, I touched him upon the shoulder and sig nified that we must carry the box down as soon as possible. Witihout a word, but with an evident effort over himself, he rose, and we grasped the handles, of the box to lift it. But in vain. It was too heavy. We then tried to raise the lid, but it was bolted. It was then that our small pick came Into play. With a few blows 'I broke the lock, and lifting the lid. dis closed a treasure such as surpassed our wildest fancies. The yellow gleam of Spanish doublons' mingled with the spar kle of diamonds and rubles. All were heaped promiscuously in the box, which they filled nearly to the brim. The old man fell on his kneea before it and thrust his arms into he precious mass. Filling both hands full of gold and jewels, he kissed them repeatedly, utterly oblivious of his surroundings. I took out several massive gold plates and a bag of diamonds, and heaped them on the floor, after which we were able to drag the box with Its remaining contents out to the ledge. There the old man fell to caressing the treasure again, while I went back for the torch, which I had left standing against the wall. I was about to place it on the ledge, where it would light the way back to the raft, when I glanced up and saw the old man looking at me with narrow, stealthy eyes. He had taken a long. Jewelled dag ger from the box and was fingering it nervously. In an instant I divined Ms purpose and with, a thrill of terror It SOFTLY TO THE SLEEPER'S OWN AND, TURNING. SWIFTLY FLED, way of a violent fit of coughing, or'loud, prolonged whistling. . He . concluded to appropriate the gun, leave a note, and go, for he had promised himself a long day's hunt. Wishing to keep his part of the agreement to the letter, however, he decided to photograph the-sleeper just as he lay, and so, to obtain a focus of the dais-like rock upon which Gordon- re posed, he clambered to an opposite bank and pointed his camera through an open ing in the thick bracken. Daphne had meanwhile lost all pleasure Haystack Rock flashed across me that he was mad. I sprang back and as I did so happened to strike the torch with my foot, sending it whirling into the water below, where with a hiss it went out, leaving" utter darkness. The old man said not a word, but in a few seconds I caught the sound of his loud, rapid breathing. In another moment that ceased and I was there in that nar row place in absolute darkness and still ness with a madman groping for me with a long dagger. I pressed myself against the wall in an agony "of terror. The sec onds dragged on and the suspense grew frightful. At that instant I heard a cry, the sound of i slip, then a loud splash, and In an other second the most fearful scream, after which all was silent. I slipped to the floor with the cold sweat oozing from every pore. In a few moments I rose and with trembling limbs began feeling my way down the narrow ledge. The other torch was on the raft. Slowly and with painful caution I made my way down. After going, it seemed to me a mile, I reached the raft, found the torch and after several attempts succeeded in light ing it. I then looked about,' thinking the old man might have been able to keep himself afloat. But there was no sign of him. All was black and silent, except for Che rushing of the water. It was some moments before I could summon courage to return up the ledge to the treasure. When I did so I was so fearful of falling from the slippery rock that I had to summon all my resolution to go forward. Finally I reached the top. What was my dismay to find that the chest of treasure was no longer there. I gazed blankly around, thinking it might have been moved by some mys terious agency. But it was not to be found. It had probably fallen with the old man. perhaps been pulled off by him as he tried to save hinjself. He clung to the treasure to the last, thought I grimly. The pieces of plate and the bag of diamonds were still where I had placed them, and with these, the sole rem nants of a wealth, vaster than I dared in her solitary walk. She recalled that Gordon had neither taken his dog nor worn his hunting jacket, but had carried his gun. The fact seemed fraught with significance. And then she stowed this dangerous weapon, all loaded as it was, in the same mental rack that held his desperate looks when he struck out with those awful words upon his Hps. Oh, suppose it were so! It had often happened in the newspapers and in nov els. Daphne could not recall ever encoun tering the same phase of recklessness in to guess, I was obliged to be content. I gathered them together, and once more retraced my steps down the nar row path. Arriving at the bottom, I perceived that the tide had risen and the raft was afloat. I managed to capture it before it got beyond my reach, however. But what was more serious, the water had risen so high in the cave that the entrance was closed up and my escape cut off. I stood aghast for a moment, realiz ing that for 11 hours at least I should be a prisoner in this frightful pla"ee. Then, mustering what courage and composure I could, I set out to endure it with my utmost fortitude. I cannot recall those moments even yet without a shudder, and to write of them is extremely painful. Therefore, I will bring this account to an end as speedily as possible. After the passage of ages and ages the hands of my watch finally crept around to the late afternoon, and I knew that low tide and the time of my escape were at hand. Creeping for the last time down the narrow pass age, I gained the raft and pushed out through the low opening into the rocks and breakers beyond. It was with a thankful heart that I saw once more the light of day. Narrowly es caping the perils of the rocks, I reached the shore, and dragging my self up the beach, fell fainting in the sand. While most of the erfbrmous treas ure was lost, I kept the bag of dia monds, and these gave me an ample fortujje, but they hardly compensate for the terrible hours I passed within the cave. The hair around my tem ples was white when I next looked at myself. I have made many Investigations in the hope of discovering the old man's Identity, but so far without success. It is partly the object of this nnrra tive and my most earnest desire that it may aid in that purpose. A Bitter View. Philadelphia Press. Lovatt It's funny that love stories should invariably end with the mar riage of the nero and heroine. Henpeck Why so? ( Lovatt Because that's really only the beginning of their lives. Henpeck That may be. but it's the end of the love story. I real life, but hadn't Bartlett sufficient reasons for hating her, and, because of her, to hate life? Oh! it was too terrible, and when she had meant to accept him all along! It was this very thought which had caused her so much mental agita tion. That she could have no momentous question to decide, like other girls; that, from having always belonged to Bartlett Gordon, there could be' no gradual sur render on her part like5 one reads about no. she must just simply give in some Camping Out a WE ALL have the camplng-out in stinct. It is our call to the wild. Some people believe that there was once a golden age of the world when everybody wore patent leather shoes, plug hats and diamond shirt studs, and that we have been falling down the scale ever since. The result is that you and I have to get along with shoes at $2.50 -and slouch hats. But I don't take any stock in the golden age yarn. It is a pipe dream of a ten-cent poet. My theory is that at the period in which they place the golden age of humanity( It would have been more appropriate and consistent with the facts to have called it the barefooted age of mankind. We all went barefooted then, and could wrig. gle our toes without any trouble. It was at this time that we acquired our camplng-out instinct, for that was the only way we had to live. It was camp out all the time or starve to death. Thus It comes about that when the Sum mer time rolls around we have that long ing to get out In the woods alongside of some dancing stream or to pitch our tent on the seabeach and hear the surf pound ing day and night. It is the old primitive instinct stirring within us. , We put on our old clothes, pack up some simple cooking utensils and with a small amount of grub we hike to the wilderness. Everyone wears a happy, good-time sort of expression. Our grouches and kicks are laid away in the closet to await our return to civilization. When it comes to mealtime, no one growls about the coffee and declares it to be slop. The biscuits may be as yellow and smoky as you please, but they are swallowed with gus to. We get so that wa go to sleep the minute we touch the blankets, and we don't have any horrible dreams about how the man around the corner is sell ing more groceries than we are or that one of our neighbors has got a new silk dress, together with a complete outfit, and we will have to make our delaine over for another season. Such dreams. day, and the thing was done, once for all. Well, there was one consolation, she had told herself he should at least suffer ap propriately before he should have his re ward. Unconsciously, almost, she had directed her steps - toward their old trysting-rock. Suppose she should be just in time to stay his hand! The thought lent wings to her feet, and she ran on and on. Oh! why had she been so ridiculous the night before? Why bad she thought it neces sary to hide her deep pleasure at meet ing him behind so much silly shamming? she. who had carried a tiny stamp pic ture of .himself in. hen locket for five long years! Effectually hidden by his leafy screen,' the camera youth, was taking a final look,' before pressing the bulb, when he almost exclaimed aloud at the sudden apparition,! which dashed within the, radius of hia1 vision. . , Breathless, panting, beautiful," came' Daphne, with- the picturesque hat falling! backward, and her red. hair flying about! her face like a nimbus. When she espiedl Gordon stretched at full: length upon the rock., with his gun beside him. she did not scream, but Went suddenly pale, and with,) both hands ' pressed' her heart, as if to! keep it from' breaking. She still cama1 forward, however, shrlnklngly, and avert-' ing her eyes ;as if to lessen the horror.) and yet moved to look, too,, as If deter mined to know the worat. .The panto mime was plainer than words to tha camera youth. When at last she hung over him, her white face stricken with fear and the suddenly discovered her mistake, she smiled such a radiant, transforming emile that the boy grew angry at the man for still lying there like a senseless clod, with no knowledge. of the glory shed, around him. She bent her face lowers lower, and the camera youth, held tha bulb and waited, motionless. Would ehe do it? Was she a quitter? No! and tha snapshot was made triumphantly, for with one hasty look all about her. Daph ne pressed her j warm Hps softly to th sleeper's own, and turning, swiftly fled. The camera youth thought of the beau-1 tlful girl in blue, as he walked up tha broad drive of the Langhams that even ing, to return the gun to its owner. Soon he discovered her, wearing a gown' like a soft, white cloud, and, while the' others strolled in to dinner and she lin gered "to answer some speech of Gordon's, who came up behind, a gold slant of tha sun touched her hair with its dying ra diance. At the sight the camera youth, with the poet's heart, shielded his eyes with one" hand and with the other mads the sign of the cross. And when she re plied to Gordon proudly, almost patron izingly, as a queen might, he closed his lips sternly. In answer to his whistle. Gordon turned back to greet his friend, but with a shadow of pain in his dark eyes which, would not be hidden by the smile ha called uy: . "She has hurt yau!" exclaimed the cam era youth,, and Gordon answered him simply, "It ls her dearest pleasure," and smiled again. "Then she deserves What she has brought upon herself," came the declaration. Tak ing the little photograph from hia pocket, then, he doffed his cap to It while he mur mured. "Proud, sweet lady, forgive me!" and as he gave It Into Gordon's hand ha added: "Could you have seen her as I saw her, never more 'would, you think her heartless." And, the camera youth said good-night. . . Gordon gazed as one transfixed. It was indisputable. He was even able to read the title of the book beneath his head. But that look upon Daphne's face! The radiance of It, reflected, touched his own. and he longed to kneel to her to kiss thea hem of her gown. He turned to see the last of the whlta dress disappearing In the direction of tha house, but he soon caught up with itaj owner and kept at her side, smiling, sl-i lent. Daphne gave him a quick glance.! It was obvious that Gordon was suddenlyj not himself, and she felt rather than knew that the time was come the time when she should give in. once for all. ' "Why are you so silent, and wharf amuses you so?" she asked, wheeling ooi L him and making a last stand. - For answer he held up to her view thai little photograph, and she caught hef breath, mystified, incredulous. Then "Oh, Barty" very softly "I feared join would find that out some day; but I don't' mind not In the least!" j And, drawing forth the little lockeO which had so long reposed against heart, she disclosed to him his own like-'; ness of five years before. . "Oh. Dsiphne!" he shouted, exultantly.j throwing his cap in air, "I don't mind not in the least!" Natural Instinct are forgotten the minute we get into thaj woods. If. we have any dreams at alUI they will be that we have found a pool' where the trout are all rive-pounders, and' so ravenous that they will bite at a red' rag, or that a black bear has chased usi up a small sapling and is trying his levelj best to dig it up by the roots. Such,1 kind of dreams do not leave a bad tasta after breakfast. They are the dreams af primitive man; but your civilized! dream will make wrinkles on your face clear to the back part of your neck. The primitive man's morality comes back to us when we get out camping. .Wa see a sign, "No trespassing. No shoot ing allowed on the premises," and our blood boils at this monopoly. What do we care for fences and all such relics of an effete civilization? The chances are that there will be a dead pheasant if we get sight of one, fence or no fence. Thera is an orchard down the road about a mile and a half. We put this under trib ute, for does not the earth and the full ness thereof belong to man. Primitive man was a great beggar, and so we bang around the ranch-house and cast longing eyes at the green peas and roasting ears. Primitive man was a mighty poor hand with firearms, and when the city man is out camping and has along a 30-30. it is dangerous to be safe. As the old Ger man expressed it: "They shoot at -everything what move." Berkshirea are shot for black bears, and Jersey heifers for fat does, and to go walking through the brush in the open Beason for deer is pretty near as dangerous as to be A.uto crat of all the Russias. But we all like to get back to the primi tive once in a while, and so we have to forgive the sins of our fellows. Anyway it is a good preventive of tuberculosis and that great disease of civilization nerves. MARCUS W.- BOBBINS, Grant's Pass. Or. Locating the Blame. Washington Star. "Why does Smithers Insist on irosolo- lng?" said the conscious woman. 'That isn't the reallv serious niiMHnn answered Miss Cayenne. "She is merely" anxious to oblige. Why dp we eager audi tors Insist on encouraging her to gosslgj?
