The Syracuse Journal, Volume 20, Number 51, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 19 April 1928 — Page 7

Idle Island 0 By ETHEL HUESTON

Copyright 1927 by The Bobbs*MerriD Co. WNU Service CHAPTER" Xl—Continued —ls—- — yon monster—the poor dear heart." she muttered, all in the same breath. Auntalmiry, flushed and radiant with excitement, was the first to arrive for the party. She was joyously pleased at the unusual tenderness of Alice Andover’s greeting, and took her toll about the room to point out to her. with shy pride, how cleverly she had managed things, explaining all the little economies she bad used, the ruses to which she had resorted, in her desire to make least money go farthest. Alice was sympathetic, solicitous. warmly approving, but kept always one sharp and terrified eye upon Gay. both of them in a, panic of fear lest the creature upstairs regain Ims sober senses and spoil the party for which Auntalmiry had worked so hard. At Gay’s direction, Auntalmiry took up her position by the window, with Alice Andover and Gay on either side, and pressed the electric button which set the solitary pine a-sparkle with colored lights from top to bottom, flashing a brilliant holiday greeting all over that end of the island. ‘‘lt is tne last she cried, and her thin little voice quavered with excitement. “Come to my', party, come to my Christmas party! Everybody can see it. It will guide' them up *he hill. How the children will lajgA! It is very nice. Gay." The island trooped to the party In a body, a tong stream pouring up the hill through the snow, so that all in a moment it seemed the Lone Pine was a-surge and a-throb with IL There was much laughter, much shrill squealing, the piercing staccato of children's voices, the high nervous laughter of young girls, and deeper wider voices, calling loud and cheery greeting. ‘‘lf this babel doesn’t wake him up. he might as well be dead,” whispered Alice Andover. ’ “I'll go and havve a look," said Gay. “It is enough to bring the trees to life.” Gay listened outside -the bedroom door a moment, hoping to hear the muffled heavy breathing that presaged ’ the sleep o% their unwelcome guest. But with the din from below she could hear nothing, so she opened the door duickly and stepped In. The room was wrapped In silence, utter and heavy, and in the darkness she could n«t distinguish the shadow by the window-seat that was Buddy Bridges. She pressed the button that flooded the room with light and showed In a flash its emptiness. The rugs lay in a rumpled heap upon the floor, but Buddy Bridges was not there. The window was open. Gay ran over and looked out, but in the shadow of rocks and trees by the house she could distinguish nothing. Her eyes swam giddily. “Such—a Christmas." she stam mered. Already with that vividly creative mind of hers she could see him lying on the rocks, a bleeding mangled shape. Auntalmlry’s son. Suddenly she was afraid to be alone, and ran downstairs. Alice Andovei awaited her coming at the foot of the steps. She read fear in Gay’s eyes. “What now, good heavens, what now?” “He is gone. He is not mere." “Gone! Gone where? Gone how?” “Come: . Let’s look." in the joyous confusion that reigned about the Christmas tree, with Santa Claus noisily distributing the pretty gifts, with the burble of his bells, the laughing voices, the crackle of tissue paper, and the treble of children’s voices over all. they went out unno ticed. And with an electric flashlight, looked beneath the window for the crushed and bleeding— Yes, he had certainly dropped down into, the bank of snow. There were many signs of tramping, footprints, but the white snow bore no stains of red. And Buddy was not there. The outraged divinity whose patience still is infinite had guarded Auntalmiry’s boy that night. So they went back, with what nonchalance they could muster, and joined jhe merriment within. But Gay was sick at heart. Everybody had come to the party, the Captain was there, the two ministers were there, even Buddy Bridges had come home. But Band came not “Well, well,” boomed Santa Claus, “well, well! Here’s another present for little old Auntalmiry! Aunt almiry !” Santa Claus, powerful young giant that he was. caught her up bodily into Ms In fits, so that she was quite crushed in the shaggy fur of his big eoat “Auntalmiry, Auntalmiry!’’ chorused Ute children gaily. And then, on the wave of that loving Joyous call, the door opened, and he stood there, soft hat crushed low on his forehead over the big dark eyes, collar turned up about his chintall. thin, and weak, very pale. Buddy Bridges. * Santa Claus, with little Auntalmiry •till in his arms, turned as the others did. to lodk at this one who came so nneeremonieuety into the party, his thee alone unsmiling, set and grim. He crossed without a wort. Into the center of the room, walked swagger Ingly (>erhaps to hide the fact that he cmfld noi stand erect without swaying weakly, and stood before Santa

Claus, with Auntalmiry ia his arms, ft was she who moved first, moved vaguely, slipping to the floor, and then, not seeming to walk, seeming to float Wither, she was beside him. her eyes riveted to his eyes, haggard and darklined. and her fingers crept softly up his coat toward his face, touching the curve of his chin uncertainly, inquiringly, as though it were by feeling she would be convinced. “Almiry, come away.” broke tn Alice Andover harshly, but it was pity that hardened her voice. “Come away. He’s drunk.” “It’s Buddy," Auntalmiry said faintly. “it’s Buddy. It is Buddy." “Come away. I tell you; he’s drunk.* Then suddenly Buddy Bridges laughed. “Drunk." he shouted weakly but with derision in his voice. “Oh, it’s you. Alice Andover, up to your old tricks! Drunk! So that’s what you thought. Well. I thought you were crazy, the pair of you. stuffing me up with cognac, locking me in—l’m not drunk, morn. I’m sick. They couldn’t tell the difference." Ever., eye in the bright, disordered, crowded room was intent upon Buddy Bridges, who held his mother In his arms, and laughed with her. wept with her. and talked to her in a fond weak voice. “Sick as a dog. In the hospital—weeks. Weak as the dickens. I was in the hospital when they told me you wer here. I got out of bed —knocked two internes down—sick as 1 was. Came or here—clear from California, mom. Twice I fainted away, and vhen I came to. they bad me off the train ano in hospital again. But as soon as I got my wind. I beat it again. Came on. Drunk! Isn’t that like her, mom? I’d know in a minute it was Alice Andover! Von haven’t changed much, mom—a little." How his eyes caressed herj “Twentyfive years, mom. Not a word from you in twenty-five years. I wouldn’t have believed it. mom. ft was—not—just—like you. Was It because they sent me to the pen. mom?” “The—the pen. Buddy? The pen?” “Oh, hush, you fool," begged Alice Andover. “In Jersey. Twenty-five years—" “Buddy, you don’t mean the penitentiary—Buddy—” “Mom. didn’t you know It? Didn’t you ever know it?” “Buddy—” “Mom, you’ve Just forgot. You knew it. You must have known it. It was in the papers— Is—is she all right?” he asked falteringly of all the room. “Yon must have known It." Alice Andover was tall and fine in her dignity. “Yes. Buddy Bridges, we knew it. We all knew it. But nobody told her. Almiry never knew to this day—” “Nobody told her —" Alice Andover’s dignity was simply killing. “On our island. Mr. Bridges.” she said greatly, “we tell one another no news unless it’s good news. There was nobody h ere low down enough to tell Auntalmiry that her son had gone to jail.” “Buddy—* Auntalmiry’s voice was pleading. “Aw. mom, It wasn’t much. A roughhouse, a row over a game. You know I was always quick in a scrap. It wasn’t much. But a man was hurt. So they sent me up for it But, mom. since then, everything fine and dandy. No nonsense since. Got a fine woman, got three nice kids, made a lot of money— Great, mom.” And then, suddenly, mercurial man as he hhd been a mercurial boy. he glowered, glowered with sudden anger around the room. “See here," he demanded sharply, “who sent me that papermarked Portland paper—that told me mom was dead? Twenty-five years ago! One of you sent me a paper—that lied." The silence throbbed. Everybody looked at Alice Andover. She was the administrator, and this was a terrible chhrge he brought. Alice Andover did not flinch. She turned directly on the Captain. “John Christian Wallace, do you mean to tell me that you dared to take it upon yourself—without consulting me—the natural administrator—” The Captain removed his pipe and ambled amiably into the arena, a gentle, dignified little old figure. He put an affectionate hand on Buddy’s arm. His voice was wavering with age and with excitement, but he was not daunted. “Buddy, 1 says to myself, ‘Jailbird or no jailbird, he's Auntalmiry’s son. He’s got a right to kn«>w she’s gone.’ We said plenty of hard things against you, times enough, but nobody ever said that Buddy Bridges didn’t love his'mom. ‘No.’ says I, ‘he’s got a right to know it. So I marked the paper, and sent it right off to you. Buddy, in jail or what-not, for 1 don't hold to them as says—” “But, Grump,” he Interrupted, for everybody called the Captain Gramp. “Grainp, she was not dead! She was not dead!” “No, but we thought she was. It said In the paper she was. We didn’t know till next day, or day after, that she pulled through after aIL ‘No,’ says I, ‘he’s her son. and as soon as 1 read In the paper she was dead, I marked it and mailed it. and—” “But, Gramp, my God, when you found out —that she wasn’t dead—that she had pulled through— Why, in God’s name, didn’t you let me know?” The Captain was crestfallen, taken aback. But he rallied, slowly. “Whwhat say?” he asked feebly, hand to his ear. “Why didn’t you send me word—let me know—when you found out that it was a mistake, and she had not died? I never knew. When I got out I headed west and never came back. Never wanted to come back if mom was gone. Why didn’t you let me know?” “God bless my soul," ejaculated the Captain feebly. “Didn’t you know she wasn't dead? Just think of that now, His own mother not dead, and he didn’t even know it. Dear, dear. Buddy, 1 never thought of it from that day to this. I supposed of course a boy would know it if his own mother wasn’t dead.” When the last tired but happy voice had sent its Anal “Merry Christmas* ringing back across the snow, when Auntalmiry, with Buddy’s weak arm about her, had disappeared beyond the arc of light that underlined the solitary pine. Gay turned back into the bright disordered rooms and

closed the door slowly. She wes ver sad. The brightness of the room ii all Its gay confusion depressed her and she stood, a tired dejected figure in" the midst of It. and pressed her burning face into her cold clasped hands. Tears came to her eyes. A sob swelled in her throat She wepnoiselessly. What was the success of all the noisy merry party to her, when Rand had not come, and she knew not where he was? In her heart she knew that Rand had not remained away of his own volition, that something had kept him against his wilt He had pledged her to solemn secrecy in regard to his movements, but his prolonged absence without word or reassurance terrified her greatly. She sank down into the window-seat and looked out The tail, gayly lighted pine was„hateful, garish to her §pddened eyes. Impatiently she pressed the button, and the hillslope was plunged into darkness. “It—it’s that d —d old clubhouse," she said bitterly. “I have a big notion to —to burn it down.” With the passionate words came sudden determination. She could not bear this anxiety, she must know the worst, however bad it be. She would slip into the forest, and reconnoiter. Rand had sternly ordered her to keep entirely out of the woods and away from the Little club, but Gay. in an emergency like this, and goaded by her fears for him. was not one to be balked by obedience. If she found the gang in tne Little club, she would call the police, immediately, have the place raided, and demand Rand of them. In her thoughts, vividly, she saw the slim worn face, the shapely strong hands of the one who had come to her on the waves in the Little cove. Almost she saw Rand's face, like that, with the merry eyes closed, the mocking lips set hard, swept by salt water. “Oh, no.” ? she cried faintly. Then she sprang to her feet, and pounded hotly up the stairs. She was feverish with excitement now, her face flaming, her lij® parched, her eyes tingling hot. But her slender. Strong hands were like ice. “If they catch me, I do not care,” she told herself hotly. “I’ve got to find him.” She could not bear that recurring, evanescent vision of Rahd’s face on the winter sea. The cold fingers tore her party dress from her, pulled on heavy silk and woolen undergarments, her thickest woolen stockings, stout boots. She donned her warmest blouse beneath the fawn-colored suede wind-breaker, and bloomers beneath her heaviest knickers. The leather cap she pulled down to her ears, caught up her leather fur-lined gloves, and then her darkcolored slicker enveloped all. “If they see me, they'll think I’m a man," she said sturdily to her stout reflection in the glass, “with this cap, this slicker, these boots.” Schooled by the experience of six months on the island, Gay slipped a flashlight into one pocket, and her pistol in the other. She was trembling all over. “But I’m not afraid,” she said firmly. She pressed the last electric button, and the cottage merged into the darkness that covered all the coast. She opened the door gingerly an inch at a time, listening Intently. The island was asleep in the darkness. There was no moon; the stars, r< tote and cold, were pin-points of ice. She did not hesitate. She quite confidently believed that site would rather die than endure the suspense of uncertainty. Not daring to use fier flash, she made her way through the snow slowly, from tree to tree, toward the Little club, stumbling often, running Into unsuspected pines, falling over hidden shrubs. But she went »n. When she came at last to the row of trees that circled the clubhouse, she stood for a long moment, as Rand had taught her, flattened against the bark, listening. Neither sound nor sigh from within. “Sealed," she thought, “hermetically sealed.” She crept cautiously around the corner. feeling her way inch by inch until she reached the spot where Rand bad taken out the rocks to get under the piazza. It had seemed simple enough as she nad watched him, and Gay felt she could easily do the same thing, and thus obtain a view of the interior, perhaps onfirmation. or denial, of her fears. But for all the strength of her young firms, for all the power of her stubborn will, she could not so much as stir the smallest of the rocks, which were now deeply wedged Into the fro zen soil, packed solidly, presenting a firm and Immovable barricade to entrance unuer the piazza. Thus balked, she stopped a moment to consider. One thing was absolute, she would not go home. . But she was puzzled as to wise procedure. Tempted for a moment to‘ fire her pistol Into the air. hoping that fear of a raid would draw the gang from the shelter of the clubhouse, second thought convinced her it would be sheer foolhardiness. At last she decided to go down Into the cove, to examine the great door and look for a light beneath the window curtains. Getting into the cove itself was very difficult, for the crevices among the rocks were covered with snow, and she was obliged to claw her way-along, hand over haud. sounding with her feet for standing ground. Down. down, she slid, from rock to rock, from snowy crevice into snowy crevice, kicking, holding on with both hands like grim death, down, lower and lower, until’she attained the level beach of the cove. She moved warily now, feeling the great helplessness of her position. In the woods she could at least run for cover. Here in the cove she was at the mercy of whoever might come upon her. Softly, keeping in the shadow of the rockyjcliffs, she crept to the clubhouse door. She ran her nand over the locke carefully. and then softly turned the knob. Well oiled, silently It moved beneatb her hand. The door to the Little dub was open. (TO BB CONTINUED.) Model Infant Readers Lively as a lambkin, busy as a bee. that’s the kind of a little girl people like to see. Modest as a violet, as a rosebud sweet, that’s the kind of little girl people like to meet Happy as a robin; gentle as a dove, that’a the kind of little girl everyone will love.— Boston Transcript

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

OUR COMIC SECTION I 1 ■■■- 1 ■—■"■■■" ■■iiiamn, in ■ ■■■■ OF" ■—fc—— ■■ ■ II Events in the Lives of Little Men L v ' 0 £ p H I n one 7E? I *--7 —' /M W/E| &K)VI OU. [JitfUPAy TO- , 11/w l/w ■r' (COPTTW.W.N. U.) FINNEY OF THE FORCE Just Good Clean Fun Ki (i|, inO A * 1 BiW HE SAID A PuPIL V. . J I 6f MiMt sozEftMiNG- y ’ >1 . 1/vKFH WflA) SOOMDED I 4 l\ 4 \ LIKE HE WAS PQAC- fa SA^ iVE > M’ktESSows/- hmphM r MW? " ——— y /on paqdimo \ —"3 r ! /me?" i THOIXSQT \ ri - t 'I SOO WAS g J I " r A LOCKED OP AN' / / W Ma Ik '-3 /Z—v// A I H A''' j © "WMtvrn Newspaper Union hTFtAJ \ ?-7 '‘t ( aiSYftHPBg. THE FEATHERHEADS Fanny Goes Too Strong SMoVIEsH-TUE \ ■ L /ftLIftGUT FAMMvI- ) /OHFfUX-I POMT | -YoUCI THINK ] ■ IIF Vft’RE (SblAkS-” / / K*)OW -1M ASHAMED j COOLDAJT LIVF I 3 \LETS A( lb tVE/d <S©To THE / P EM/- TUAT AND / I X? I MoVIES IN THIS OLD / iUJ FUQ COAT/AZ \ COAT OF MINE- - / J / WELL MAVBF Vl f I PoNjr B£I«VF \ I'tbOßE PKJtfr AoN | / I CAM AFfioED THE \ J \ SECOND THOUGHT"" fl McMeS " l«T MORE. ) \. k A NEW FUQ GOAT// 1 -- > > Bi © W—t«rn N«w»pap«r Union ' y; A; / | | _ | I oSBoBiTS- .

PLAYS ON THE SQUARE c ” z - Willoughby—“He gambles, oh, but always plays - on' the square?” Johnson—“ Yes, plays chess.”

One T/u'ng Abundant “Talk is cheap.” “Yes, fortunately.” “What do you mean by that?" “It is desirable that the necessities of life be within easy reach of the masses, you know.” —New Haven Register. The Great “Will you leave politics cheerfully F t “Yes,” answered Senator Sorghum. . “When these dear people decide to surrender the services so faithful and

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