The Syracuse Journal, Volume 20, Number 46, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 15 March 1928 — Page 9

Idle Island t By ETHEL HUESTON Copyright 1927 by The Bobbs-Merrill Co WNU Service STORY FROM THE START On the verge of nervous collapse. due to overwork, Gay Delane, artist seeks rest at Idle island. She rents a cottage the ‘Lone Pine,” from ag island character, the ‘‘Captain.” and his sister, Alice Andover "administrator. “ Gay finds the cottage Is tenanted by an elderly lady. ’Auntalmiry;” who consents to move to another abode, the "Apple Tree." On an exploration of the island Gay is horrified by the appearance of the drifting bodv of a drowned man A bullet wound in the temple shows the man to have been murdered Gay returns with the “Captain.” but they find no body thete Gay, being unable to convince her neighbors of the truth, draws a picture of the face of the dead man. intending to send it to the authorities. She meets a stranger to whom she tells the story and shows the picture. He asks for it. but Gay refuses. Next day the picture is missing. “Rand” Wallace. wanderer, and considered -something of a “black sheep" by the islanders, surprises Gay at her household tasks. Gay’s aciuaintance with Rand ripens in■o affection Gay determines to stay for the winter The stranger whom Gay had met the day of er discovery of the body inoduces himself as Ronald Ingram. “Auntalmiry" tells Gay of son. Buddy." who has been missing for years. Rand is suspicious of Ronald Ingram, and apprehensive of some evildoing in house known as the “Little Club." apparently unoccupied

CHAPTER Vll—Continued And so one night.- toward the end of October, when Ronald Ingram came again. Gay. because she was lonely, received him with a warmth *o genuine, a pleasure so undisguised, that springing hope sent an eager light to his eyes, and he made no effort to conceal his feeling for her. “You little snow bird.” he cried, “‘are you still here? You’ll wake up «ome morning to find your feathers decked with snow!” “And I am going to stay longer, much longer, weeks, and months. Maybe all winter. Maybe forever, if f am very happy." “Oh, my dear.” he expostulated anxiously, “you can’t do that. Positively. it is not safe. Why. the Island ■will be snowbound inside of another non th. You cannot expose yourself to such danger. It Is not right.” “What danger? If I am snowed tn. certainly everybody else will be snowed out!” * He sighed heavily, hesitated a moment, then, with the air of squaring one’s self for a sudden plunge, bo said . earnestly, “Then you will hate me for my errand. 1 am seeking the owner of your hilltop iceberg. 1 want to buy it.” “Too late, too late! It is mine. 1 have already bought it. and It is not •for sale.” “Anything Is for sale, at the right price.” he argued. “1 must have It. 1 have bought the old clubhouse down 1n the woods, and I want to corner . this whole end of the peninsula for a Pest of cottages. You see. I must have your hilltop to complete the circle.” * “Never, never. You cannot have It. Not for sale.” “Oh. coma have a heart! 1 am willing that you should make a fair profit on me. But I must have it. You see it is really essential to me.” But It was essential to Gay also. “Think what it means to my bank account.” he pleaded. But Gay thought only of what It meant to ber heart. “No, no.” she said firmly. “1 should be followed by bad luck the rest of «ny life. I tell you. if I sold my Heart’s Oesire. If would be sacrilege, it would be blood money.” “You are- in love.” he said shrewdly, and a shadow fell across his eyes. Gay laughed. She would otter no denial Thg_very admission was sweet to her. He told Gay something of his plans for the exploitation of that part of the Island. He cautioned her not to discuss his venture tuo freely among her friends. “For I shall have to" buy •ome land yet. and much material, and if people think there Is money toeing made, prices take wings.” Gay laughingly promised discretion. As he said good night, he took both her hands in his again, and said pleasantly. “After all. I feel a sort of happiness because you would not sell. Since we are to be neighbors, we must be friends. I shall never feel that you are outside my circle, but a part of It. But if you see me or my workmen pottering about, measuring off yards or acres in the woods behind you. don't put a shot into us with that Baby of yours, will you?” Gay said she would limit her target practice to the lobster buoys, and he went away at last, smiling back at her. She did not see Rand until the next morning, when be appeared for coffee at eleven. “Oh. why didn’t you come last t Bight ?” she cried petulantly. “Ronald Ingram was here. I want you to meet him. He Is so nice.” ‘Rand studied her closely. “I knew you were charming—l’ve known it all along. But his devotion—” “It wasn’t devotion, stupid. . Guess what he wanted! Oh. Rand, he wanted to buy my dear liftle Lone Tine.” - —-ftsm* *gtne c’atartted ’ extlaufttYoA,

sharply bitten off. ant) lighted his pipe with slow consideration. He said nothing. “Yes. He has bought the Little Club house and the woods, and he wanted my hilltop to round off the circle. 1 laughed at him. Oh. Hand, he offered to give me exactly twice what I paid for it, spot cash. I laughed at him. Wouldn’t the administrator die if she knew she could get today twice what she got last month?” Rand regarded her reflectively. •That settles It.” he said slowly. “Whatever that chap Is up to. It Is not over yet. It is not past, it is present." Gay Stared at him. "That chap Is up to.” she repeated indignantly. “You don’t think Ronald Ingram—” “Don’t be silly. Gay. Os course it Is Ronald Ingram.” Rand had her go back over the story she had told, from the day of her arrival, and pieced it all together, bit by bit. tn chronological order. “All right, now.” he said, when she had finished, “look at this. Some one. watching, no doubt in a panic of terror. saw von discover that body in the eove. saw yon run for help.—Some one took that hotly away while you were gone, and hid ft.—Some one watched for your return, saw your curious work with a pencil and paper, had to know what you were up to. And found out.—Some one tried to get the sketch from you. tried to beg It. tried to bfly it.—Some one came in here at night, and stole it. Some one wants to get you away from here, tried to frighten you away, and finally tried to buy you out.—And that is no one but your gentlemanly Ingram. Gay. mark that!” Gay was sorely shaken. The evidence was strong. That something crooked, something queer, had taken plate on the good little island she granted willingly, eagerly, indeed, because the mere suspicion added a piquant spice of mystery to rhe natural charm of her surrounding. ’ The reappearance of Ronald Ingram. and his desire to buy the cot tage. lent a sudden sinister aspect to the whole matter. Assuming that some lawless enterprise was afoot in the bordering woods. Rand quickly realized that the residence of Auntalnriry in the Lone Idne had constituted no menace to their security Auntalmiry went to bed promptly with ■ < t i JrasjO He Made No Effort to Conceal His Feeling for Her. the dusk. Her strolling was limited exclusively to the pier, the grocery store, rhe church, and the homes of her friends. She never ventured along the shore, nor put foot in the forest, hence there was nothing to fear from her presence in the Lone Pine. The presence of this active, venturesome, keen-eyed young woman in the vantage-point on the fringe of the wood, constituted a constant menace, and her discovery of the body in the cove was evidence of the seriousness of this menace, so that she was subjected to constant unrelaxing vigilant guard. Nor had Rand any difficulty in constructing an explanation of the body that washed ashore in the cove. The rope at the ankle showed that the body had been, weighted to sink, but the washing of the waves, or the cutting of rocks, had severed the rope and released the weight. ' Gay had always felt that the body washed in shore, from sea. Rand, on the other hand, was strongly assured that It had been thrown into the deep water of the cove from the rocks at the farthest point of the peninsula, that it had come, not from sea, but from land, from the island itself; that murder had been done, not In the vastness of the wide ocean, but right there on the shore, within stone’s throw from where thev sat. Rand knew this place-of his birth and his venturesome youth like a book, knew the shore, knew the cove, and understood rhe movement of the tides and currents. He believed the man had been shot—in the club, or boathouse, perhaps—carried out and thrown Into the deep water Perhaps this was before the break of day. and then, with the dawn, the murderers were horrified to see the corpse washing on the sand, to hear Gay’s terrified cries at its discovery. So far. Gay lent willing credence, thrilling to every word. f “The Chink saw you were here, reported to your friend Ingram, who came and tried to frighten, and then to buy you out. To get rid ot you because things are going on they don’t want you to discover. —Why. see how plain it is! When Ingram was here the other night, the Chink watched to assure no intetrruptlon. saw me coming, deliberately showed himself and led me-into a chase to keep me from discovering Ingram.” Gay’s loyalty wavered, but she steadied it by memory of the sympathetic voice, the friendly touch nf the strong hands, the shadow in the gentle eyes. “He looks so honest, Rand,” she protested. “He has .'uch soft sad eyes.” “Ohl, So's a cow." said Rand rudely, for he was greatly disturbed. But upon serious consideration, he was 'fndfaed’ ta- agrea that she was in

no particular danger as long as she maintained an air of utter innocence, seeming not only to see nothing, but to suspect nothing. Above all, he urged her to betray no curiosity, no Interest in regard to things that went on about her, and with Ronald Ingram, if be came again, to continue her warm and friendly but unlnquisitive interest. Rand did not believe that the affair was a simple matter of bootlegging, as be had at first suspected. The favored method in bootlegging is a constant shifting of base, the effecting of surprise landings, first one place and then another. The acquirement of a permanent base for their illicit operations implied a deeper and more deadly enterprise, and with his usual Impulsive venturesomeness. Band had promptly decided to get to the bottom of It, to ferret out. alone and single-handed, this business of crime that had attached Itself lo the Island. Gay was eager to assist. “1 feel now more than ever," she said, “that I was called to be the , avenger of that poor boy in the cove. He came to my very feet, pleading to be avenged and I stupidly bungled I the whole thing from beginning to j end. But I shall not bungle it again, not with you to help me.” That day Rand put extra patented locks on all Gay’s windows and doors, and connected an attachment to her | eIA-tric wiring which he carried up info the highest branches of the tall pine at her door, where he placed a small, rose-colored light bulb arrang- ; ing it among the branches where it : would throw its light to the upper ■ windows of his grandfather’s house. ' This he connected with two switch buttons inside the cottage, one by her ' bed upstairs, and one in the window ; seat in the living room where she usually sat at her easel. This light she ' was to turn on at the slightest suspicion of any unusual stirring about the house, and he. on the hillslope beyond. would keep watch for it. Gay professed herself frankly thrilled with these precautions for her protection. She said she had never j loved Lone Pine "so much, she said J she could never bear to go away from . the island for a minute now. for fear the commission of a crime would oc- i cur in her absence. “Oh. to think of it." she cried ecstatically. “at my age! To think ot living on so sordidly, so sanely, so un excitingly, for so many years! Ami then, when I am almost an old women, and very sensible, tp come to a good little lazy island like this, and stumble head-first into mystery, ad venture and love. Oh. what luck J” . All day Rand worked about the house perfecting his arrangements to insure her safety as well as he could, and when he left at last, in the early evening, he called back to her gayly, in a loud voice: “Good-by. Gay. See ydu In the morning! Eleven o’clock !” Gay had expected him to come again in the evening, and would have called inquiry, invitation, after him. but he was gone. When darkness had fallen she wished for him greatly. The very prethey had taken tended to make her nervous, ill at ease, so that she started painfully at every real or fancied sound, and every low complaint of the rheumatic trees in the woodland set her shivering. When at last came a quick knock at the door, without Rand’s assuring whistle, for the first time her thoughts leaped naturally to the pistol in her desk, and she ran for it quickly, grasping it in nervous fingers. “Who—is —there?’’ she asked nervously. as she crept to the door. “It is I. Ronald Ingram. Nothing important. I will come another time if you are busy.” “No.” Mindful of Rand’s instructions to he friendly, and her fears instantly assuaged by the pleasant voice, she bravely opened the door. “How nice of you. Mr. Ingram. I was lonely tonight.” His eyes went quickly to the pistol in her hand. “Something frightened you.” he said keenly. “Has anything happened?” “No.” She laughed lightly as sh* slid the pistol back into the drawer “Nothing has happened, but you Imvall warned me so much about the deadly danger I am in that first thinj. you know you will have me fright ened.” She laughed disarmingly. In face of his disarming friendli ness. his regardful Interest. Gay fet' her suspicions of him slip away from her. A gang in the cove, yes: a band of murderous criminals, yes: the watctfful Chinaman, yes. But never Ronald Ingram with the affectionately friendly eyes and the frank , voice. “You are the pluckiest girl I ever saw. But do. please, be careful. You are too young, and far. oh. far to pretty, to live here a lobe when the island is deserted.” “The united state of Maine agrees with you." she x said. “1 am afraid you men are losing your nerve.—We women now!” she cried cockily. “You women are getting downright foolhardy. Some of you have paid for ■ your folly, and more will pay. But I don’t want you to pay." The honest voice was cordial, intimate. He asked if she had by any chance reconsidered about selling the cottage ! and she denied it ’quickly. “If you only came for that—” “1 didn’t come for that. • Let me be honest. I came only to see you. As a matter of fact. I came over this afternoon hoping you wnuld give me tea and be nice to me. but I saw the Cavalier chap hanging around, and knew you would hold me dearer in my absence.” He talked pleasantly, smoking, told > her of his plans for the forest peninsula. complaining of the high prices of labor and material. -“I feel like the’Landing ot the Pilgrims, bare rock on every hand. It’s really a hard undertaking, too big for me. I am afraid, for I haven’t much money. What does yqur Cavalier chap do In the winter? There seems to be nothing going on. shops closed, hotels Hosea, theaters locked np—” “Yes. everything Is dead, and the Cavalier, being addicted to medita tton. is glad of it He rests. He hi bernates.” (TQ BK CONTINUED.)

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

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MIGHT BELIEVE IT THEN 5 He—“ Did you hear what I said?

was telling the truth.” She —“Well, look me straight in rhe ear and say it again.” Well Deserving “Some members of congress do not work hard enough to earn their salaries.” “No man deserves a more generous compensation,” answered Senator Sorghum, “than a member of congress who .knows when it is time to keep quiet’ and not get in the way.”-—Wash-ington Star.

Attitude i “Will you be a candidate?” “Certainly not," answered Senator Sorghum. “A candidate in order to make the proper political picture must assume the attitude of being more coaxed than coaxing.ashiugton Star. His Explanation Wife—l believe you treat your stenographer better than you do me. Husband—Well, I can dictate to her.

DAIRY USE OF TONICS IS MONEY WASTE The use of tonics for dairy cattle is a waste of money, according to E. J?Perry, extension specialist in dairying at the New Jersey State College of Agriculture. New Brunswick. Mr. Perry writes in the New .Jersey Agriculture, official publication of the college and of the state experiment station: “Every year thousands of dollars are spent by farmers for stock food or tonics which are supposed to stimulate tlje appetite and keep the cow!s in running order Results at various experiment stations show that it does not pay to spend money for these patented mixtures. If a cow is managed and fed with reasonable care her appetite does not need stimulating, if she is sick a veterinarian should be called. If a cow is in a run-down condition, has * passed the tuberculin test, has solid teeth in her hedd. and does not respond either in milk or flesh to good old-fashioned feeds such, as well* curred hay. silage, corn. oats, bran, and oil meal, there is some vital ailment which it is doubtful if a tonic will cure.” He continues: "It must be admitted of course, that animals sometimes show an improvement following the use of a stock food or tonic, but if the truth were known, this impijoved condition or higher milk yield would have to be attributed to better allround care and feeding of the animals. The directions accompanyitfg the tonics are quite likely to specify proper feeding methods,” The writer concludes that if a herd is fed the right kind of roughage and , grain there is no need for feeding any patent mixtures of a so-called tonic' nature. Healthy Vigorous Calf Changed to Skim Milk A healthy vigorous calf can l»e changed from whole milk to separator or skim t.iilk when it is about four weeks old. Delay making the- change on less thrifty calves until they are five or six weeks old. The change to skim milk must be made gradually, requiring a week to ten days. Each day a little less whole milk is used and a little more skim milk is put in its place, if is not necessary to put anything in the milk to take the place of the cream, but the calf should be given a handful or two of grain following the milk. Three parts oats, one of bran and one of linseed oilmeal is a good combination. A little choice clovet or alfalfa might also be placed before, the calf so it can nibble on it when hungry. An allowance of ten. to fifteen pounds daily, divided into two equal feeds, will be about right at the start and this, can be gradually increased to about twenty pounds daily if a good supply is available. The amount given to a young calf should be decided according to its health and vigor. Two important precautions are to fet'd the milk While still warm and fresh and to clean the feeding pails thoroughly after every feeding. Good Grass Pasture Will Stimulate Flow of Milk Good pasture grass holds a place in the list of delicacies for/iairy cows ivhich no other feed can quite fill It Joes have a wonderfully stimulating effect on milk production after a Cow has gone through the winter on dry -feed alone.. However, the ability of grass to produce milk is generally overestimated, and a cow cannot main‘ain a heavy flow of milk on grass alone. Grass, and especially early ?rass. contains a high percentage, of water and it is a physical impossibility for a cow to eat enough to supply nutrients for more than 2*> to 30 pounds of milk a day Cows giving more than this should receive grain tn proportion to their production. High Butterfat Prices With Coming of Grass v The price of butterfat has lateiy been going higher instead of lower, as most folks are expecting when the smell of green grass is but a few weeks away. This is having a tendency to work the calves off faster as veals. Get them off as soofi as the market will take them is the rule with most dairymen, but there is a time when it seems most profitable for the calf to go. at least for the farmer who has a bunch of those cows that “don’t exist.” namely the all-purpose brute that can raise a calf to become beef or can be milked for cream production. Front ISO to 200 pounds In weight is a good farm vealer and usually is the most profitable size. Cow Is Market “That’s good bay,” an extension worker remarked to a busy farmer, who was putting a lotyl of alfalfa in the barn. “But.” he added, “a good many other farmers near here are getting better prices for thefr hay than you are likely to get for this.” "How’s that?” the surprised farmei then asked. “Because they are feeding it to better live stock. • Improved animals pay better return for the feed they get;” was the extension workers reply. — Floor for Bam A cement floor for a dairy barn is« not onlj the cheapest in the long run but it is also the most sanitary as well. There are some objections to a cement floor but these are not so great as the objections to a wood or dirt floor. The platform should be entire-, ly of cement. The rear end of the platform should be about one inch lower than the front end so as to allow the liquid to run back into the gutter. To prevent slipping, the ceI ment should never be trowled smooth.