Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 February 1900 — AN AMERICANGIRL ABROAD. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN AMERICANGIRL ABROAD.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

CHAPTER XV. Mr. Jack Duncombe seemed very well pleased to be back among us, and was gay and talkative, his facetiousness chiefly taking the form of magnifying the possible dangers of that trip down the open Severn to which we were now definitely pledged. Perhaps he meant to show that this part of the expedition was as important as the passage of the tunnels, which he had missed; perhaps he wa go sure of the seaworthiness of the boat that he could afford to scoff; but In any case he entirely failed to terrify his hostess—if that was his aim. “Oh, no," said she, with decision, "whatever may happen to the rest of you, Peggy and I will be safe. I am not going to take the opinion of any of you gentlemen; I am going to take the opinion of a professional seaman; I am going to ask Murdoch whether we should make the venture. And if he is in any way doubtful, then there is the landau for Peggy and me; and you may as well keep an eye on us as we are driving along the road, for when we see you sinking we should like to wave a handkerchief, by way of good-by.” At this moment Miss Peggy came out into the sunlight; she had been adorning the saloon with the flowers that had done duty on the dinner table at the hotel the night before. Moreoiver, she had made bold to appropriate to hbrself a few hyacinths, and the little bouquet looked very well on her dress of dark blue serge. “Come here, you American girl,” Queen Tita says to her, and takes hold of her .by the arm, and makes room for her by her side; “do you know that 1 am responsible for your safety? and now that these people have determined to go down the Severn in this cockle-shell of a thing, the question is whether I am going to allow you to remain on board.” “I thought that was all settled,” observes Mis Peggy, rather appealing to Col. Cameron. "It is not all settled,” Mrs. Threepennybit makes answer. “I will not permit of any foolhardiness, and, unless I can be assured that there is not the slightest danger, you and I will put ourselves into a carriage and get down to Bristol on good solid land. I am going to consult Murdoch.” “Oh, Murdoch?” says Miss Peggy, quickly. “Yes, although he is a steward, he has been a sailor, too, all his life; and unless he thinks we may safely run the risk, then ashore we go.” “Oh, yes; very well, I agree to that,” remarks Miss Peggy; and why should she again glance toward Sir Ewen Cameron, this time with a kind of smile in her eyes? “I will hold myself bound by Murdoch’s opinion, certainly.” “Why, Miss Rosalyn,” Inverfask interposes, with a touch of reproach, “you promised to stay by the ship!” “But I am not going to allow her to run into any danger," Queen Tita says, in her peremptory fashion. “I have got to restore her safe and sound to the United States, and much good may they get out of such a piece of baggage!" So on this brilliant and shining day we got on by Rea Bridge and Quedgley •nd Hardwicke even unto Whitminster, where is the junction with the Stroudwater Canal. But we did not stay to make inquiries as to the practicability of getting back to the Thames by this route; we had signed our articles, as it were, and were bound for Bristol; the allurements of the Avon and the Rennet, among other considerations, had proved too potent. So we continued our placid voyage; and so fair and shining and beautiful was the country around us that we pretended not to know that a breeze had sprung up, and that those mighty masses of pnrple cloud were advancing, heralded by a few rags and shreds of silvery white.

The atom burst forth while we were all inside and leisurely seated at lunch. It had been growing darker for some time before, but we had hardly noticed it, for we were listening to Jack Duncombe’s recital of hia experiences on the production of hia one and only piece, and our imaginations were away in the region of the lamp lighted Strand. But all of a sudden there was a sound that recalled as to our actual surroundings—a smart rattle aa of buckshot on the forward window; and then we became aware that the world without was steeped in an unusual and mysterious gloom. The next moment the tempest broke upon us with a roar— a continuous thunder of rain and hail and ice that battered on the roof and hurled Itself against the windows with an appalling fury. We could guess that the sudden gale was tearing the water around us into a white smoke, but we could see nothing, for the panes were steaming with half-melted ice and hailstones. Then, in the midst of all this bewilderment of noise, there was a sharper crack, as if a pistol had been fired just outside. "Why, what's that?” cried Jack Duncombe, jumping up and making forward. “Here, don’t open that window!” one had to eall to him. “Do you want to swamp the whole place? Leave the hurricane alone; it' isn’t meddling with you.” But what was this now? The “Name less Barge” was going more slowly; then it touched something gently; then it stopped altogether. "I know what it is!” said that young man triumphantly. “The tow-rope has broken, and Murdoch has run the boat alongside the bank.” When we went outside, we found a most tempestuous looking scene afound us. Far away in the west the Monmouthshire hills steeped in a somber gloom; but the hills in the east were swept by flying rain clouds, followed by bursts of sunlight that produced a rainbow on the soft gray background. And if the colors of the landscape had been vivid before, they were now keener than ever in this dazzling radiance; the very hedges and willow* beside us were all shimmering in the silvery wet There was a brisk

breeze blowing, too, a stimulating sort of breeze that seemed to suggest odr fighting our way against it—as, indeed, we very soon were. For we found that the towpath were offered excellent walking, so we all got ashore, Jack Duncombe and Queen Tita leading the way through this whirling and changing world of showers and flying clouds and sunlight. “Col. Cameron,” said Miss Peggy, with a certain demure air, “didn’t you say that the Highlanders were so courteous that usually they would try to answer you as they thought you wanted to be answered ?” “They have a tendency that way, and I don't blame them. Why do you ask?” said he. "Because I don’t think we shall have any need of a landau to-morrow.” “I—l don’t quite understand,” said he. “Didn’t you say there should be no deserters from the ship when we go down to Bristol?” she asked, her eyes on the ground. “Well, it would be a pity, wouldn’t it?” he answered her. "Why not see the thing through? You are not afraid, 1 know, and 1 understood you to say you meant to keep by the boat. Oh, yes, I distinctly think we should hang together.” “Don’t you mean drown together?” she asked, meekly. "If it conies to that, yes. My own opinion is that there won’t be the slightest danger of any kind.” “But you belong to the army, whereas it is a naval expert who is to be called in,” Miss Peggy continued. “And —and 1 thought you looked a little surprised today When I consented to abide by his judgment. Then you had forgotten what you told me about the Highlanders?” And still this tali, long-striding, sandymustached colonel didn’t perceive what she was driving at. “I think I know what Murdoch’s opinion will be," she observed, modestly. And then he burst into a roar of laughter. "Excellent, excellent! You are going to tell him beforehand that you are anxious to remain in the boat, and then you will ask him whether you should or not. Very skillful, very ingenious.” Presently Queen Tita called aloud: "Peggy, come along! Here is something for you.” These two ahead had come to a halt at a corner of the winding towpath, and when we overtook them we perceived the reason why. In the great valley now opening before them lay the wide bed of the Severn River, here and there showing long banks of yellow sand, and here and there narrower channels of lapping water of similar hue. Which was the main body of the stream we could hardly make out—water and sand seemed in many places to lose themselves in each other. “Well!” said Mrs. Threepenny-bit, "doesn’t it remind you ” “Of what?” asked Peggy. “Why, of the Missouri at Council Bluffs?” she exclaimed. "1 thought you would see the likeness at once —those great mud-banks and the yellow water. I thought your loyal heart would leap up; that we should see tears of gladness in your eyes.” "But I never saw the Missouri anywhere,” remarked Miss Peggy, ly"What! you never were at Omaha?” “No, never." "Well, you are ■ pretty American!” "Yes; that's just what she is,” one ventured to observe, merely by way of defending the poor thing. “A pretty American you are! Never saw the Missouri! I wonder if you ever heard of the Capitol at Washington?” “As for that,” rejoined Miss Peggy, "1 know of somebody who has lived all her life In England and never went to Strat-ford-on-Avon till the year before last.” “I consider you a very impertinent young person,” said Mrs. Threepenny-bit, with much dignity; and therewith she turned to her former companion, and they resumed their walk and talk.

CHAPTER XVI. Now, as our good friend the harbormaster was coming along to have a look at the "Nameless Barge,” it was not likely that the responsible people of the party were going to the ship’s steward to get his opinion of her seaworthiness; but Queen Tita had a great faith in Murdoch; nnd Miss Peggy knew it; and on the first chance the young lady had, which was early the next morning, she set about beguiling and perverting the mind of that simple Highlander. “Murdoch,” said she, in her innocent fashion, as she was putting some flowers on the breakfast table; "Murdoch, you know we are going down to Bristol?” “Yes, mem.” “And that the river is very wide down there?” “Yes, mem.” “You don't suppose there is any really serious risk, do you?” she asked, in an off-hand way. But at this Murdoch hesitated. Did the young lady wish to be encouraged to go by water, or persuaded to go by land? Then perhaps it may have occurred to him that he might as well tell the simple truth. “Well, mem.” said he, “I do not know myself; but there was two or three o’ them last night they were saying to me it was not for five hundred pounds they would go down to Bristol in this boat, if there was any kind of a preeze from the sons or sou’west.” Here was a most unexpected blow; even Peggy was a little bit startled. “What was that?” she said. “Yes, mem; that’s what they were saying, not for five hundred pounds would they go down the ruvver in this boat.” ‘‘lt’s the landau for you. Miss Peggy,” one observed to her. But she was not to be easily turned from her purpose. “Wait a bit'. Murdoch, who were these men?” “Oh! they were chist men from the docks,” he answered. “Yes; coal heavers and people like that, I suppose? What could they know about a boat like this?” “Mebbe no mich,” said the young Highlander, cautiously, for it was not clear to him as yet which way she wanted him to answer.

■ “Well,” she Mid; “I wouldn’t repeat a foolish speech like that, if I Were you. Five hundred pounds! a lot of babies talk* ing nonsense! How can there be any danger? I don’t see any possibility of it.”

And now here was his cue at last; and his answer was forthcoming readily. “Dancher!” Mid he. "Oh, no, mem; there will be no dancher at ahi —no, no, there will be no dancher whatever!” "You are quite convinced of that, Murdoch?” she said, dexterously pinning him to his expressed belief. "Well, mem,” said be, “the Severn is only a ruvver; and she was on a ruvver before, and did ferry well; and she’ll do ferry well again." This sounded reasonab*?, though to be sure, there are rivers and rivers. But Miss Peggy went on to tell him of the proposal that certain members of the party should go by land; and of her own decided opinion that we should all keep together; aud in a way appealed to him to confirm her judgment. “Why, it would be cowardly to leave the others, wouldn’t it?" she continued. "And I know, at least I’ve heard, Murdoch, that you never had any liking for this boat; but you have seep what she can do; and she has never got ms into trouble hitherto. So long as sheXkeeps afloat, what more can we want? VWhy, 1 believe she would float well enough on the open sea!” j/ “At sea, mem!" said Murdoch, rather aghast. “Well, what would happen to her?” asked this bold student of nautical matters. “Pless me, mem!” he exclaimed, “if there was any wind at ahi, she would roll about like a tib, and tek in water, and then she would sunk—ay, in five minutes she would be down.” “Oh, she would roll about like a tub, and then sink,” observed Miss Peggy, thoughtfully. Then she said, in a lighter tone: “Well, Murdoch, it is no use talking about impossibilities. We are going to Bristol—down a river, as you say—and it would be a great pity for any of us to leave the others, wouldn’t it?” “Oh, yes, mein, a great pcety!” said he. “And you know quite well there won’t be any danger,” she observed, insidiously. “Oh, I do not think there will be any. dancher at ahi!” he repeated. “And, Murdoch, 1 wouldn't say a word about that foolish speech you heard last night,” she said, by way of closing the interview. “Ferry well, mem,” Murdoch obediently answered, and went about his duties. You should have seen her face when he was gui.e: it was so serene and serious and ingenuous; it was only her eyes that spoke. "Well, of all ” “All what?” she asks, and there is hardly a smile in those telltale eyes. "To go and bewilder a poor Highland lad ” “Don’t you know tjiis,” she says, interrupting in her usual unconcerned manner, “that women are weak, helpless, defenseless creatures; and that sometimes, when they have a particular aim in view, they have to use a little judicious skill in pure innocence.” “Yes, a very simple, innocent young thing you are!” “Don’t you think I am?” she says, calmly, and she stalks across the saloon and takes her banjo off the peg and sits down and begins twanging at the strings. Then this is what one hears: “When de good old Gabriel gwine to blow de horn, You’d better be dar sure as you are born, For he gwine to wake you early in de morn, He’s gwine to wake you early in de mornin’.” Then, when she comes to the chorus, she sings alto: “Den, rise, children, sing around de door, We’ll gadder early on de golden shore, He’s a-comin’ right now, an’ he’ll come no more, He’s a-gwine to meet us early in de mornin’.” Then comes a brisker air: "It’s early in de mornin’, before we see he sun, ‘Roll aboard dat cotton, and get back in a run!’ De captain’s in a hurry; I know what he means: Wants to beat the Sherlock down to New Orleans.” This, also, has a chorus, which she sings with much complacency (and all for her own enjoyment, apparently)— “Roll out, heave dat cotton, Roll out, heave dat cotton, Roll out, heave dat cotton, Ain't got long to stay!” “Now, what on earth is all this frightful noise about?” demands Mrs. Three-penny-bit, suddenly appearing at the door of the saloon. “And at this time of the morning, too!” “Well, it isn’t Sunday morning,” the young lady makes answer. “Besides, he has been saying very rude things about me; and I've taken refuge in music.” (To be continued.)