Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 76, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1911 — CASTAWAYS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CASTAWAYS.

A Canoe Accident and What Cvue of It

By PORT BRIDGE.

fCopyright, 1310, by American Press Association.) Clifton clung to the overturned canoe, his dripping countenance in close proximity to another one on the other side, staring him out of countenance with its blue eyes, dancing and mischievous. “Did you save the luncheon basket?” asked Rose anxiously. “It saved itself,” replied Clifton. “There goes the paddle,” announced Rose sweetly. “Can you paddle with your hands? Jim. Wright can, but he’s a regular fish in the water anyway.” “I have noticed he was something of a lobster,” remarked Clifton, staring after the Vanishing paddle. “As I can’t swim I suppose you’ll have the glory of saving my worthless life. You see, I was born and brought up on the prairie, and. except for rock bottomed streams, there are not many temptations to learn.” Rose balanced herself gracefully in the water, her heavy serge skirt weighing her downward. "Let’s walk ashore,” she suggested. Clifton thrust his feet down and felt bottom. “Oh. I say, you knew it was shoal water all the time,” he protested hotly. “Of course I did,” retorted Rose impishly. “That is why I, upset the canoe.” ‘ You did?” She nodded. “Why? Juut to make a silly ass of me?” His young face burned resentfully. He had been a source of amusement for Rose Burton .this past month. He was glad his four weeks’ leave of absence was drawing to a close. He looked at the disappearing paddle in an agony of shame that he could not swim that little distance and recover it. Because he could not they must wait on the shore on the lonely island until fate sent some hulking, brown limbed athlete from the hotel, combing through the waves with the long overhand strokes that Clifton yearned to duplicate, and the paddle would be bf ought back or another would be fetched from the mainland or the amphibious athlete would paddle with his

hands or his feet—anyway to get Rose Burton to the hotel in time for the •hop that evening. At this point in his meditations Clifton found himself on the beach tugging the canoe high on the sands. An instant later Rose dripped ashore, wringing the water from her skirt and tossing the wind swept curls from her pretty brow. For a brief instant she stared at the green canoe, s and then, with a little contemptuous toss of the head, she bent down, seized the gunwale and pushed the light craft back into the water, where it, bobbed to and fro tantalizingly out of reach. “Why did you do that?’’ demanded Clifton impatiently. “It is of no use without the paddle,” remarked Rose carelessly. Then, peering into the stranded luhcheon basket, she exclaimed: “I declare if there is a drop of water or anything! That was a splendid idea of Maggie’s, putting enameled cloth under and around everything, almost as if she knew we might be upset I” “Of course she knew 1 was going out and took every precaution,” muttered Clifton, pulling off his sodden shoes and socks. “But I thought I heard you telling Maggie to wrap the whole business in enameled cloth before you put it in the basket” “Perhaps you did,” soothed Rose as she gathered dry sticks for a fire and piled a heap of driftwood about it. “Where did you get matches?” demanded Clifton, peering into the water soaked compartment of his match safe. “In the basket. Between this fire gnd the hot sun we ought to dry off Quickly. Yes. bring up all the wood you cr.n find, and there are two blocks that will serve for seats \and that huge flat stone for a table. Why. we shall be quite Robinson Crusoes of Swiss Family Robinsons, whichever you choose.” she cried gayly. “I choose to be the Swiss Family.” said Clifton, with rising spirits. "What could be better than to find oneself on a lone island with Rose Burton for a companion?” “Why?” asked the girl, pausing Id her task. ' * ■

“Oh— er— they led a most domestic life, you know,” said Clifton. “I choose to be old Robinson Crusoe, and you may be my Man Friday,” said Rose graciously. “That suits me.” “Well, stop loafing then—ft’s not Sunday, you know, and Friday should be busy.” Fetching wood for.the crackling fire, searvhliig for water in the thicket, finding none and coming back to discover the great bottleful contained' in the basket, Clifton waited upon bits companion with all the devotion that the real Friday might have offered his master. Boiling coffee over the blare, cook-ing-eggs, and toasting bacon were delightful tasks to Clifton, the engineer, whose clever head was filled with details of great bridges and other structures he loved to build. It was pleasant indeed to watch Rose Burton flit-4’’ ting about the beach barefooted like the humblest fishermaiden, while her little white’shoes toasted before the fire, and he was privileged to turn them occasionally that they might dry evenly. Most domestic it was. indeed, to sit opposite to Rose with the table of rock between them spread with the dainty lunch he had ordered and she had attended to preparing at the hotel. She poured’ the coffee, and as she passed him a tin cup filled to the brim his band trembled until the hot liquid spilled on the sands. “I’m a clumsy brute,” he growled Impatiently. “We are really on a desert island,” said Rose; after a little silence. “You don’t mind?” asked Clifton rather shyly. “Oh. no; it will be only for a little while—somebody will see the boatwill miss us and come ovpr,” she said carelessly. “Some heroic soul will swim across from the mainland. I suppose,” be said a little sullenly. “Do you know—l wonder why you’ve chosen to spoil your pleasant day by coming with me.” Rose blushed hotly. ‘Terhaps because I want to give you o good time before you go home.” , “How do you know I haven’t had a good time?” “Perhaps you have —I was jesting,” she said with a wistfulness he did not comprehend. • The meal cleared away they sat on the beach, Rose striving gaily to add picturesque horrors to their situation. She made a flagpole from a piece of spar and flung her handkerchief to the breeze to attract some passing vessel. As there were motorboat races on the other side of the point every available craft was in attendance there. “I’m very sorry -it has happened, Miss ’ Burton, ” said Clifton remorsefully. “I suppose there’s no use my waiting till the tide runs out and then attempting to walk across the shoals to the mainland. I heard some of the chaps talking about it the other day.” “Don’t you try. please,” she protested. “It’s really dangerous—there are quicksands.” “I seem to be quite helpless,” he said, resuming his gloomy inspection of the empty watenC “You are,” saidf' Rose sharply. “Eh?” “And .stupid!” she added tearfully. “Any more?” “Isn’t that enough?” “It is. I’ll get you off this island if I break my neck in the attempt,” said Clifton loftily, arising and walking away with as much dignity as the pricking sands under bls bare feet would permit. He disappeared in the thicket and was gone such a long time that Rose became alarmed. She heard the sounds of distant hammering and searched in vain for him along the shore or nearby in the woods. In the depths she dared not venture. Alone she sat on the sands and wept bitter, angry tears, until Clifton’s voice close at hand startled her to dashing them away and confronting him with impatient eyes. “You needn’t cry any more,” said Clifton joyously. “I’ve made a raft. Lock there! I’ll get you to the mainland in a jiffy. And, say, I forgot to ask you for some dances tonight.” “I’m not going to the hop.” announced Rose coldly. » “I suppose you’re all tired out. Well, I don’t believe I’ll go either. Hops are stupid things,” said Clifton somewhat dispiritedly. He had been screwing up courage all day to ask Hose for those dances. “Not as stupid as some people,”, retorted Rose pointedly. “You mean me?” he asked quietly. She made no reply. Her pretty head with its ruffled bair was turned toward the sea, and there was a pathetic droop to her lips. “I shall keep away from the hop, Miss Burton—Rose. I didn’t know you disliked me quite so much. I’m afraid I’ve forced myself ui>on you many times when you’d rather be alone,” he said steadily, his kind eyes fixed on her dejected profile.” “If you’ll just look at my raft—lt’s quite safe—you’ll see I can easily put you ashore. I’m going home tomorrow, you know. I really won’t be at the hop if it annoys you.” "1 don’t wish to go to the mainland,” said Rose in a muffled tone. “I want to stay here.” “Why?” He was bewildered with her moods. “Stupid again! Oh, Jack Clifton, you’ll never have another chance. I knew you wanted—and I upset the canoe and everything!” She flamed defiantly at him as he drew near and took his chance. ( “Stupid!” she whispered again, wo softly that, although Clifton heard, it seemed to him the sweetest word in the world.

MOST DOMESTIC IT WAS, INDEED.