Jasper County Democrat, Volume 10, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 September 1907 — The Law of the Woods. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Law of the Woods.

By SPENCER C. GUNN.

Copyrighted, 1907, by Jessie Morgan.

“Don’t be a fool, Jeannette!” Timidly leaning away from the slapping spray, she would have upset the skiff had not Bob acted quickly. But for his shouting and his angry look Jeannette would have rejected as impossible the meaning which his words conveyed. Their harshness surprised her into angry tears. There was an ominous silence. “How dare you”— But another wave, drenching her shoulders, caused her literally to swallow what else she would have said. Bob smiled impenitehtly as he dug bis oars into one of his round, green foes. “I can’t get down on my knees just now, Jeannette,” he observed, “and if I could it wouldn’t be to propitiate you.” The girl’s face blazed with a fire which the waters of Long lake had not cooled. They were still a good mile from the shore. Duck rock intervened without, however, offering a refuge from the storm. The flag on the boathouse dipped and twisted like a handkerchief signaling distress. The black clouds whitened the foam. The lake was a darkened stage ready for some tragic deed. “What a boor you are, after all,” she volunteered as she coolly unpinned her yachting cap and stooped to ball the water at her feet “Um!” reflected Bob as he turned the boat into the teeth of the wind. “Can’t you think of a more modern epithet? The Waverley novels were written some few years ago." “Yes, Indeed, I can think of several,” was the significant reply. “Um!” Bob commented, at the same time bringing the skiff away from the treacherous trough. A fresh squall now struck them. It was accompanied by a heavy shower which, like a translucent mist, all but hid the shore. The boat, swift as an arrow In smooth water and as fragile in a sea, was tossed like a leaf in an autumn gale. To keep it true, to say nothing of making headway, was a herculean task with which Bob strug-

gled manfully. Jeannette seized his large felt hat the Itetter to reduce the water now ankle deep alwut her. “What a temper you’ve got.” Bob resumed. “I’m so glad to find it outnow." With the rain and spray streaming down her face and her pretty dress glued to her body, Jeannette continued to ball the intake, her arms moving with increased vigor at Bob’s persistent abuse. “You’re a coward!” She hurled the words at him against the gale. “Is that modern enough for you? Can’t you see that I’m tired enough to drop?” Bob chuckled softly as he strove to keep the boat on even keel. “That’s the way with all girls,” he said cruelly. “Just as soon as see dramatic possibilities in a situation they faint to heighten the effect. When you fall, please keep to the center of the boat as much as possible.” “Fool!” muttered the girl. Suddenly the skiff stopped, swayed and to capsize. With the next big wave, however, and a mighty tug at the oars, it scraped over the rocks without apparent injury. Bob had approached Duck rock too closely and had narrowly escaped its submerged fringe. “Wasn’t that fine?” he asked provOkingly. “I just enjoy rowing over rocks. It’s easy if you know how.* “Fool!” repeated Jeannette. "Um!” acknowledged pob as he glanced quickly over his shoulder to gauge the distance to the shore. Not mote than half a mile remained, but as the wind had been from the west his efforts to meet it* had doubled the distance to the landing. He could now take an oblique course, for the storm bad suddenly passed and the sun was sending welcome heat te the dripping victors in the bogt. The boathouse flag floated steadily. For some minutes they continued their strenuous labor and seemed unable to comprehend the fact of their

safety, like dreamers awaking from Impending death. Then Jeannette ceased bailing and leaned back exhausted In the stern'-chalr. Bot>, barely dipping the oars, also took a nntch needed rest. .j On the balcony of the boathouse a black and white group that had been watching anxiously the outcome of the fight waved hats and handkerchiefs. Halfway between the blue skiff and the shore were several skiffs, each manned by a guide. They, too, had been on watch, ready to respond to the first sign of distress. There was still a heavy sea. but as the wind had been offshore the water became smoother. It was Big Tim who first hailed them. At Jeannette's request he accompanied them tri the shore. They landed on the sandy beach near her father’s cottage. Jeannette wished to avoid for the present the well meant congratulations of her friends. She knew' that she looked more angry than thankful. Bob was ignored entirely and walked silently but smilingly away. “Yeh don’t look very glad. Miss Jeannette,” ventured Tim as they hastened alone toward the cottage. With Tim no restraint was required. “Bob was beastly,” she answered, with renewed anger. “How so?” pursued the guide gently. “Why, Tim, he was cross and even ugly when at first I was frightened. Surely if we were to. die we might have died friends. I shall never speak to him again.” Jeannette briskly climbed the cottage steps as qhe delivered this ultimatum and fell almost fainting Into her father’s arms. Tim followed the girl into the cottage, bls face grave with suppressed concern. As Jeannette, assisted by her father, began to climb the stairs to her room Tim spoke up. “Hold on, Miss Jeannette!" z “Yes?" she asked. “Bob wasn't really mean," he asserted, his bronzed face flushing with this unwonted forwardness. “What do you mean, Tim?” asked Jeannette, almost without patience. *Tim slapped two big fingers convincingly in the hard palm of another huge hand. » “When a passenger gets scary in a storm,” he said, with slow emphasis, “a guide calc’lates to do somethin’ to scare him worse, to take his mind off the water. Bob stung yeh Instead. It’s all the same. Four years ago this summer I hit a millionaire with the butt end of a gaff to keep him from jumpin’ Out of the boat. I told him I’d use the other end if he stirred enough to shoo a fly—and I brought him in,” he concluded, with another slap of bis fingers and a jerk of his head. “It's the law of the woods,” he added. When Jeannette understood she flew down the few stairs, leaned far over the newel post and rested her little hand on Tim's flannel covered shoulders. “Are you quite sure, Tim, that Bob was following that law?” she asked, looking searchingly into his eyes, yet confident of the answer. “Sartin sure,” vouched Tim solemnly'. “Twas a fearful ‘blow,’ md Bob W’as only fightin’ for your life, my little gal.” With eyes dancing with gladness, Jeannette leaned over farther until her wind blown hair brushed the guide’s clean brown cheek. There was a whispered message and something which sounded like a kiss. Then Jeannette turned to her father, who smiled tenderly and with responsive joy. “You won’t forget, Tim, dear?” she admonished, half playfully, half in earnest. The guide looked up, the red blood showing through all his tan. “By the John Rogers,” he thundered as he hastened out, “I guess not!”

RESTED HER LITTLE HAND ON TIM’S FLANNEL COVERED SHOULDERS.