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?