Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 168, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 July 1911 — Carstair’s friend [ARTICLE]

Carstair’s friend

"It’s such a bully little retreat,” Caretairs explained on the way up the valley from the station. “I haven’t been here tor several years, hut X can taste the fish now from that ! "On your place?" I "Yep, all of it Deer too, In season, totter, ’coon, fox all sorts of game. And the house is a regular lodge. Six rooms, huge rock fire places, woods growing dear up to the doorstep. All I have to do Is shut the door, and put hn a padlock, and it’s there when I care to come back to ft, just as I left "Hire a caretaker?” Street asked, casually. "I suppose you have to.” "Ten a year to the first neighbor flown the road. French Canadian -chap, very decent and awfully obliging, too." Carstairs beamed out at the landscape with the air of a homecoming baron. He was still young enough to take himself very seriously, even his vacations. Street did not answer. He was on the back seat of the rickety carry-all, they had picked <up at the station below, and a good, solid sense of contentment flooded his whole being as the hill ranges unfolded in overlapping vistas, and the sunlight suffused the green forest •bout in golden glory. It was simply great, he decided, great of good Old Carstairs to think of him, and bring him up for the season. He was gnedltating lazily how he could make it up to Carstairs when the wagon turned a bend in the road, and a beautiful sweep of lake lay before them, with wooded shores rising steeply on every side. "Here is where we will rest and loaf and invite our souls, Roily boy.” Carstairs stood up to get a better view, and took off his hat in salute to the beauty of it alt In the distance, smoke curled up from a white rock chimney among the trees. But words died on the owner’s lips. Not 15 paces •way from them, standing perilously out on a log in the water was a girl, and she was fishing. Street never forgot the picture she made, in a linen skirt, ankle length, a faded, old rose silk kimono to her waist, open at the throat, and short Sleeved, and on her head a peaked Mexican hat, somewhat atilt That was all they saw, except the long braid of heavy black hair that hung down her back. "I thought you said the place—" Street stopped, for Carstairs was climbing out of the wagon, and deliberately making for the trespasser on his fish preserves. “Can you direct us to the Carstairs place?” he asked, Quite diplomatically, Street thought, considering. She merely raised , one tanned, rounded arm. and pointed towards the chimney. "They call that house something of the sort, I believe." "Fishing good?" Then she did look up at him, grudgingly, appraisingly, looked also at the waiting carry-all, and its ancient driver, and at Street —longest, at Street "Sometimes,” she said, gravely. "Mostly pickerel and perch. I get all I need, though.” "Do you indeed?" remarked Carstairs, and he eyed her speculatively through his eye glasses. "Er —who owns the place yonder?" "I don’t know. I have rented it from the caretaker for the season, three months.” "You —you have rented it for the season from the caretaker?" Carstairs dropped his eye glasses, and recovered them helplessly. She bowed her head, and looked over at Street "Rent paid in advance,” she added firmly. "There are several of us summering there.” "Are there? How delightful! I’m •o glad you like it you know, so awfully glad.” Carstairs was floundering desperately. "Because, you see, I’m Carstairs myself, I—l bought the place a couple of years back." "Did you?” She turned with a quick smile. "Why, then you’re our landlord, aren’t you? I’m happy to meet you.” “Don’t mention it," murmured Carstairs. "Because, you know, we’ve been so Inconvenienced. The roof leaks.” "It shall be repaired. My-er—yea, by Jove, my friend repairs roofs.” "Does he?” She smiled over at Street “Does he repair wells also, and locks, and fireplaces that won’t burn? We need help badly. I think it was so kind of you to come all the way up here to see if we were comfortable.” That was the final shot Carstairs capitulated. After promising all the Improvements desired, he climbed back into the carry-all, and ordered the driver to go to the house of the "You’re not going to visit his sins on the girl In question, are you, Stacey?” Street asked. "She's a bully girl. I’ll look after the roof and the wait” - "Now. well divide up fairly at the start." Carstairs answered. "You take the root, and I’ll take the well. I’m not going to row with anybody over this godsend. We’ll put up at the French Canadian hquse, and say nothing. Did you see her eyes. Roily, great Scott. did you see her eyes, IkoyT 99 That was the start For two months through the long, hasy, laxy days of July and August they romalned at the

By LOUISE MERRIFIELD

French Canadian shack half a mile from the lodge. They repaired every possible thing on the place that could be repaired. And above all. they rode, fished, walked and loafed with the three Kenyon girls. Two were sisters, Madeline and Lois, but it was their cousin both Carstairs and Street loved, the girl under the peaked hat, Dolly Kenyon. And comradely, each waited for the other.

"You take first chance. Roily,” Carstairs would say, "You’ve got the right of way anyhow? Aren’t you my guest? If circumstances were different, I could choke you and throw you to the fishes for bait, but, hang it all, Tm your host Why don’t you ask her, and get the* l agony over with?" "You don’t do that to a friend, Stacey," smiled back Street “Go ahead, and let the best man win, say I. I’m willing to take the chance. It’s just fate’s pure cussednese anyhow. We always did have the same taste in life, old boy.” “I’d die for her," groaned Carstairs, dropping his eye glass out of sheer helpless nerve tension. “I know. Street looked up at the clear night sky, and grinned. “I’d live for her.”

It was the next week it happened. From the porch of the lodge the girls could look over the lake, and they saw the whole affair. The two had been out all the morning fishing in a light rowboat Street was seated, Carstairs standing easily at the stern, when he seemed to lose his balance. At Lois’ cry Dolly was on her feet instantly. She saw Carstairs fall backwards into the lake, and well did she know the depth, and treacherous undergrowth beneath the calm dark waters. Madeline started on a run down towards the Frenchman’s for help. Lois half slipped oto the floor in a dead faint, and still the other girl stood motionless and shocked watching the boat, watching Street as he took the dive after his friend. Then she too ran, but not after Madeline. Down at the shore was her own boat, a stocky, well built one, and she sent it out towards the other that floated empty on the water. It seemed as though her heart were choking her, that length of time when she waited for them to rise again, wondering if they would ever rise, if they might not be entangled at some awful depth in that still, dark lake that told no secrets.

And she leaned out over the side of the boat and called, called the name that was in her thoughts always these days. "Roland, Roland, I am here!” It was the first thing Carstairs heard when he came up, clutching Street’s shoulder, but he had nerve, this slim, English chap, and he helped to put Roland Street into the boat with her help, and got back himself. "He’s only a bit knocked out,” he told her, when he eould speak. "I went down all right, but a snag caught him on the head. Poor old boy, when he was trying to save me.” "Will he live, are you sure he’ll live?” Carstairs never forgot her tone or the look in her eyes, as she took Street’s head on her lap and pushed back his wet curly hair. It was his answer. “Sure as that I am alive myself,” he said, fervently. She smiled up at him, her eyes full of tears. “I guess you know how —how very much 1 care,” she faltered. “I guess I do," answered Carstairs. ‘‘lt’s his winning. And he’s a splendid old boy. Roily is.” He paused, and attended to his oars. Street had opened his eyes, and they looked straight up into the girl’s. "Dolly,” he began. "I tried to save him for you—" "And he saved you for me,” she broke in, gently. "How big, and splendid your friendship is, Roland.*

The two men looked at each other. To Street there came the knowledge of what had happened, how when death threatened both, each had willingly risked his life to save the other, and even with the wonder and sweetness of this other love breaking over him, he knew the bond that had held Carstairs true blue to him. "I think I’ll run back to town tomorrow, old boy,” Carstairs remarked later, after they had changed clothing, and rested back at the shack. “When we both went under —ei^—she called you. You don’t mind, do you?” Street put out bis hand. "Passing the love of woman—” he said, slowly. "No, I don’t mind. I’ll wait up here awhile, until I can bring her back with me. understand?” "I understand" said 'Carstairs.