Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, August 13, 1913, Page 7

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She came along the end of July to Indian Neck, the prettiest girl the resort had ever seen. Carteret took a hasty glance at the hotel registry as Beggsie, the official toter of suitcases, led her away to her m, 5 “Vivian Lovejoy,” he read. “Oh, Vivian, you are like a lone rosebud in the famished desert. Vivian, Vivian—" “Shut up. Don’t be a cad,” mut- tered Don, stufiing his big tanned hands into his linen trousers pockets, and staring moodily after the girl. “Even if we do happen to be the jumping off place in the summer re- sort line, you don’t have to act like & grinning idiot. Wonder why she ever landed here.” But the fact remained that she had landed, and from her preparations, it was seen she meant to stay. She took the best room left, one over looking the falls and the sweep of rapids clear around the bend of the headland that gave the place its name. Every day she went to the rine grove above the falls, and strolled around alone, studying every point of land. After lunch she took the path below the falls and walked up and down first on one s{de, then crossing the little bridge to the other. Carteret tried to join her to explain the beauties of the place and the old legend of the falls, They were not so very high, hardly over ninety feet, but even in the summer they were turbulent, fed by the lake above. “You see,” Carteret would say, “In- dians used to be around here, and they had a custom of sending one girl over the falls every year in a red canoe for a sort of sacrifice to the spirit of the falls.” “I have heard of the custom before,” i sald Vivian. “At Niagara they did it, too, I think. But these falls seem tco small for the leap to be fatal.” “It's the rocks under the water. They're like jagged teeth, and they rip the bottom out of any boat that goes over, If she did get to the bot- tom of the falls the rocks In the rapids would catch her. Nice little plan, wasn’t it?" “It's a wonderfully picturesque place. I think it is just what I have been | looking for.” “Artist?" She smiled and shook her head, turning her parasol so he could not watch her. “No. I'm just an ordinary summer tramp. Where {8 Mr. Marden?” “Fishing,” laconically. “He goes fishing every day, doesn't he?” “Hvery day,” assented Carteret hap- pily. *“Just below the rapids about quarter of a mile.” “Can he swim?” “We all swim here.” He looked down at her with sudden suspiclon. Why was 'she asking all these ques- tions about Don Marden, the one man at the Neck who did not appeal to women, He was tall and decidedly homely. He had no chivalrous ways, no little attentive tricks to woo them by. He was short spoken and roughly dressed. Rainy days when the other guests of the hotel kept to the shelter of the verandas living room, he staked forth with a placid grin on his face and the rain dripping from his old felt hat, with a fishing rod balanced in one hand and a basket in the other. “Is he anybody special?” Vivian asked once, watching his stalwart, stooped figure stalk down to the glen. “He acts as if he always did just as he pleases.” “He came here because the fishing is good. He comes every year. No body knows who he is. He comes for July and August, then goes away.” Carteret gave the information grudg- ingly. “Don’t be interested in him. He's a dub, a perfect dub.” It was the only term that seemed to fit Don Marden. “I would do anything in the world for you.” She smiled at him, looking up from the letter he had just brought to her. It was the letter she had waited for over two weeks, They were coming the next day, Kitson, Bayly and the rest. There was not another hour to lose, She leaned forward to Carteret with a look in her lovely dark eyes he had never seen there, He noticed bow her halr curled around her tem- ples and hid her ears. She was dis- tractingly pretty, not beautiful, but Just pretty, pretty as a girl could be, he thought. “Can you get me & red canoe? she asked. “And not tell anyone? I want ft ‘tomorrow morning surely.” Carteret promised. He would have promised the evening star if she had asked for it in that tone. All that Cay in the rain he hunted a red canoe. There was not such a thing at Indlan Neck, he was told, but down the river three miles, he found a canoe hauled up beside an old cabin, and its owner parted with it for a weekly rental Red paint he found at the village store, and another bill changed hands that he might turn the canoe upside dcwn in the hotel barn and paint it. “Put In plenty of dryer, old man,” advised Don, taking a last look at him before dinner. “You're doing fine. Who's it for? The little red head?” “Aw, shut up, can’t you?” groaned Carteret huskily. “You shouldn’t be allowed to speak of a girl.” “So? She has red hair, hasn't she? Or is it chestnut? Is she going to paddle her own canoe?” Carteret's low toned mumble men- tioned a place not on the summer tour- Ist’s map. Doggedly he finished his' Job, and the little trim canoe stood' resplendent in its coat of red. Vivian came out to look at it, and she was’ radiant. “It's 80 dear of you, Mr. Carteret, to hurry it for me,” she said. “I'll pay for it tomorrow, and for your time.” Carteret’s response was very fervid, He wanted no pay for this work of | love. He adored her. He was her! willing slave. *“Are you really?” she mused. “Then wait for me down at the bend of the river tomorrow at sunset, just where the rapids end.” The following merning four strangers arrived at Indian Neck. They were men, with certain curious arti cles of baggage, and they hired the corner suite of the hotel, and mixed rot with the local gathering of wits in the corridors or ofiice, They went over the ground on both sides of the fells and the rapids carefully during the forenoon. The noon train brought five more, three women and two men, and Vivian herself greeted them like long delayed and welcome guests. She took them out and showed them her red canoe, and Carteret stood in the offing and meditated on the develop- ments of the case. But Don did more. He stopped dead short on his way past the party at the foot of the hotel steps, and beamed down on “Little Red Head,” as he dubbed her. “What are you going to do with that canoe?” She dimpled mischievoysly, and met his gaze fairly. “If you are down below the rapids at sundown tonight, you will see, Mr. Marden, and I'm hoping you will be.” The tallest man in the new lot of guests approached, “Possibly you are not aware, sir,” he began in friendly fashion, “that our Miss Lovejoy {8 known from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast.” “Oh, Mr. Kitson,” pleaded Vivian, flushing. “Don’t. I haven't told any- one here, and I've had such a good time all by myself. It will be bad enough when it's over.” Don looked the whole aggregation over deliberately. He turned again to ! Vivian, “You're going to shoot the falls in that canoe, aren't you?” “Well, what if I should?” laughing at him, “Nothing, only this. I'll be in the rapids at the foot to get you out it you do.” “You keep out of it, boy,” warned Kitson, kindly. “This is business.”" “I'll be there," repeated Don, dog- gedly, and stalked away to his fishing. And at sundown Indian Neck had its first big thrill of the entire season. The red canoe was borne to the lake above the falls, And there appeared sundry wild tribesmen, painted chiefs and braves who bore a found matlden to the canoe, and danced a frantic dance around her, before they pushed the canoe away on its voyage over the falls. On the shore the fllm machine worked stecdily. Another one was walting at the rapids, and Kitson as She was | the lover brive was ready to dash In || and save the girl in the red canoe, when Carteret dashed along the lower bank as the canoe went over the falls. “It will be ripped upon the rocks!” he yelled, but there already strode through the rapids a tall, ungainly figure, Marden in his trouting boots, finding his way seurely among the | rocks and deep holes. Had he not threaded them for years, seeking the hidden lurking places of the rainbow beauties and their speckled brothers. For one blinding instant the canoe went out of sight in the boiling, surg- ing mass of water at the foot of the falls. Then it appeared, twirling like an autumn leaf in the swift current that led straight for t"e rapids, On the lower bonk were two of the men, Kitson and another, ready to go to the rescue, but tiiey seemed to have lost their nerve. But before the red slip of a boat covid get into the maw of the rocks that yawned above the eddying water, Don Marden had seized it. Vivian lay in it, holding to the safety belt they had fastened about her and the rope; that had been fastened as handles on each side of the canoe. Her hair was streaming over her shoulders. There was no fear in her eyes, only a great wonder- ment. And while Don cut the leather belt, and lifted her in his arms, the film machines worked steadily, until he reached the bank with her where Carteret stood, a limp, helpless wreck. “We can use it all right, Miss Love- joy,” Kitson said’ that night, when she made her appearance on the ve randa, “You did fine, that's all I can say. You kept your nerve, and it was some drop over the falls, too. It'll be & good film, and we'll change the story around a bit to let this gentleman into it.” “You needn’t bother,” Don returned. He had been talking to Vivian quietly for about an hour in & ®ecluded cor ner, and even Carteret could not fath. om the meaning of their glances now. “Miss Lovejoy bas just told me she would marry me as soon as she gets back home, and I don’t think we'll let you have that red canoe film. You put your price on it, and I'll send the | check when you hand the destroyed strips. You scared all my trout away with your comfounded acting, and it will take me a year to coax them back.” “Take us a year, Don,” corrected Vivian, gently. (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspa~ per Byndicate.) » Many a fellow boasts that he drinks alone because he always for somebody to ask him. WHY SAFER THAN CASH Paying by checks is not only more convenient than pay- ing in cash, but it is safer, beczuse it eliminates risk of loss. to check--large Your account subject or small--is cordially invited, AMERICAN STATE BANK J. L SKIPPER President Gashier P.E. 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