Cameron County press. (Emporium, Cameron County, Pa.) 1866-1922, November 04, 1909, Page 6, Image 6

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"Bitten? Yes, by John Barleycorn!"
SYNOPSIS.
The story opens with the shipwreck of
■the steamer on which Miss <}enevlcvo
l.esiie, an American heiress, Lord Win
thrope, an Englishman, and Tom Blake.
■ brusque American, were passengers.
The three were tossed upon an uninhab
ited island and were the only ones not
drowned. Blake recovered from a drunk
en stupor. Blake, shunned on the boat,
because of his roughness, became a hero
as preserver of the helpless pair. The
Englishman was suing for the hand of
Miss l.esiie. Blake started to swim back
to the ship to recovr what was left.
Blake returned safely. Winthrope wasted
liis last match on a cigarette, for which
he was scored by Blake. Their iirst meal
was a dead fish. The trio started a ten
mile hike for higher land. Thirst at
tacked them. Blake was compelled to
carry .Miss Leslie on account of weari
ness lie taunted Winthrope. They en
tered the jungle. That night was passed
roost'ug high in a tree. The next morn
ing they descended to the open again.
Ail three constructed hats to shield them
selves from the sun. They then feasted
on eoeoanuts, the <*fily procurable food.
Kiss l.esiie showed a liking for Blake,
f>ut detested his roughness. Led by Blake
"thev established a home in soma cliffs.
Blake found a fresh water spring. Miss
l.esiie faced an unpleasant situation.
%'hoy planned their campaign.
CHAPTER IX.—Continued.
Blake and Miss Leslie turned to
•tare at the droves of animals mov
ing about between them and the bor- |
■der of the tall grass. Miss Leslie was
the first to speak. "They can't be
cattle, Mr. Winthrope. There are some
with stripes. I do believe they're
zebras!"
"Get down!" commanded Blake.
"They're all wild game. Those big ox
like follows to the left of the zebras
are eland. Whee! wouldn't wo be in
it if we owned that water hole? I'll
bet I'd have one of those fat beeves
Inside three days."
"llow 1 should enjoy a juicy steak!"
murmured Miss Leslie.
"Raw or jerked?" questioned Blake.
"What is 'jerked?'"
"Dried."
"Oh. no; I mean broiled —just red
inside."
"I "prefer mine quite rare," added
Winthrope.
"That's the way you'll got it, damned
rare— lieg your pardon. Miss Jenny!
Without fire, we'll have the choice of
raw or jerked."
"Horrors!"
"Jerked meat is all right. You cut
your game in strips—"
"With a penknife'" laughed Miss
Leslie.
Blake stared at her glumly. "That's
to. You've got it back on me—Butch
er a beef with a penknife! We'll have
to take it raw, ami dog-fashion at
that."
"Haven't 1 heard of bamboo
ltnives?" said Wiathrope.
"Bamboo?"
"Im sure I can't say, but as I re
member, it seems to me that the var
nish-liko glaze—"
"Silica? Say, that would cut meat.
But where in—where in hades are the
bamboos?"
"I'm sure I can't say. Only I re
member that 1 have seen them in oth
er tropical places, you know."
"Meantime I prefer eoeoanuts, until
we have a fire to broil our steaks," re
marked Miss Leslie.
"Ditto, Miss Jenny, long's we have
the nuts and no meat. I'm a vegetari
an now—but maybe my mouth ain't
watering for something else. Look at
•all those chops and roasts and stews
'running around out there!"
"They ore making for the grass,"
•observed Winthrope. "Hadn't we bet
ter start?"'
"Nuts won't weigh so much without
the shells. We'll eat right here."
There were only a few nuts left.
They woro drained and cracked and
■cooped out, one after another. The
last chanced to break evenly across
the middle
' Hello," said Blake, "the lower part
of this will do fcr a bowl, Miss Jen
ny. When you've eaten the cream,
put it in your pocket. Say, Win, have
you got the bottle and keys and —"
"All safe—everything."
"Are you sure. Mr. Winthrope?"
asked Miss I.estie. "Men's pockets
•eem so open. Twice I've had to pick
*p Mr. Blake's locket."
"Locket?" echoed Blake.
"The ivory locket. Women may be
•arioi's. Mr. Blake, but I assure you,
X d!<l not look inside, though—"
"Lei me—give it here—quick!"
gasped Blake.
Startled by his tone and look. Miss
Leslie caught an oval shaped object
from the side pocket of the coat, and
thrust it into Blake's outstretched
Tkai'.d. For a moment he stared at it,
»nali!o to believe his eyes; then he
leaped up, with a yell that sent the
proves of zebras and antelope flying
•tnto the tall grass.
"Oh! oh!" screamed Miss Leslie.
*"!;• it a snake? Are you btlten?"
"Bitten?— Yes, by John Barleycorn!
Artist have been fuzzy drunk to put it
In my coat. Ahvays carry it in my
lob pocket. What a blasted infernal
ld!o' I've been! Kick me, Win,—kick
*rie hard!"
"1 suy, Blake, what is it? I don't
•fjrtite take you. If you would only—"
"Firo! —fire! Can't you see? We've
got all hell beat! Look here."
Ile snapped open the slide of the.
•apposed locket, and before either of
bis companions could realize what he
would be about, was focusing the
lens of a surveyor's magaifylng-glass
vpoc the bacl' of WinthrOpe's hand.
The Englishman jerked the hand
away—
"Ow! That, burns!"
Blake shook the glass in their be
wildered faces.
"Look there!" he shouted, "there's
tire; there's water; there's birds'
eggs and beefsteaks! Here's where we
trek on the back trail. We'll smoke
out that leopard in short order!"
"You don't mean to say, Blake—"
"Np; I mean to do! Don't worry.
You can hide with Miss Jenny on the
point; while I engineer the deal. Fall
in."
The day was still, fresh when they
found themselves back at the foot of
the cliff. Here arose a heated debate
between the men. Winthrope, stung
by Blake's jeering words, insisted
upon sharing the attack, though with
no great enthusiasm. Much to Blake's
surprise, Miss Leslie came to the sup
port of the Englishman.
"But, Mr. Blake," she argued, "you
say it will be perfectly safe for us
here. If so, it will be safe for myself
alone."
"I can play this game without him."
"No doubt. Yet if, as you say, you
expect to keep off the leopard with a
torch, would it not be well to have
Mr. Winthrope at hand with other
torches, should yours burn out?"
"Yes; if I thought he'd be at hand
after the first scare."
Winthrope started off almost on a
run. At that moment he might have
faced the leopard single-handed. Blake
chuckled as he swung away after his
victim. Within ten paces, however, he
paused to call back over his shoulder:
"Get around the point, Miss Jenny,
and if you want something to do, try
braiding the cocoanut fiber."
Miss Leslie made no response; but
she stood for soms time gazing after
the two men. There was so much that
was characteristic even in this rear
view. For all his anger and his haste,
the Englishman bore himself with an
air of well-bred nicety. His trim,
erect figure needed only a fresh suit
to be irreproachable. On the other
hand, a careless observer, at first
glance, might have mistaken Blake,
with his flannel shirt and shouldered
club, for a hulking navvy. But there
was nothing of the navvy in his swing
ing stride or in the resolute poise of
his head as he came up with Win
thrope.
Though the girl was not given to re
flection, the contrast between the two
could not but impress her. How well
her countryman—coarse, uncultured,
but full of brute strength and courage
—fitted in with these primitive sur
roundings. Whereas Winthrope—and
herself—•
She fell into a kind of disquieted
brown study. Her eyes had an odd
look, both startled and meditative —
such a look as might bo expected of
one who for the first time is peering
beneath the surface of things, and
sees the naked Realities of Life, the
real values, bared of masking conven
tions. It may have been that she was
seeking to ponder the meaning of her
own existence —that she had caught a
glimpse of the vanity and wasteful
| aess, the utter futility of her life. At
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1909
the best, it could only have been a
glimpse. But was not. that enough?
"Of what use are such people.as I?"
she cried. "That man may be rough
and coarse—even a brute; but he at
least does things—l'll show him that
I can do things, too!"
She hastened out around the corner
of the cliff to the spot where they had
spent the night. Here she gathered
together the cocoanut husks, and seat
ing herself in the shade of the over
hanging ledges began to pick at the
coarse fiber. It was cruel work for
her soft fingers, not yet fully healed
from the thorn wounds. At times the
pain and an overpowering sense of
injury brought tears to her eyes; still
more often she dropped the work in
despair of her awkwardness. Yet al
ways she returned to the task with re
newed energy.
After no little perseverance, she
found how to twist the fiber and plait
it into cord. At best it was slow
work, and she did not see how she
should ever make enough cord for a
fish-line. Yet, as she caught the knack
of the work and her fingers became
more nimble she began to enjoy the
novel pleasure of producing something.
She had quite forgotten to feel injured,
and was learning to endure with pa
tience the rasping of the fiber between
her fingers, when Winthrope came
clambering around the corner of the
cliff.
"What is it?" she exclaimed, spring
ing up and hurrying to meet him. He
was white and quivering, and the look
in his eyes filled her with dread.
Her voice shrilled to a scream:
"He's dead!"
Winthrope shook his head.
"Then he's hurt!—he's hurt by that
savage creature, and yoa've run off
and left him—"
"No, no, Miss Genevieve, I must in
sist! The fellow is not even
scratched."
"Then why—?"
"It was the horror of i-t all. It actu
ally made me ill."
"You frightened me almost to death.
Did the beast chase you?"
"That would have been better, in a
way. Really, it was horrible! I'm
still sick over it, Miss Genevieve."
"But tell me about it. Did you set
fire to the bushes in the cleft, as Mr.
Blake—"
"Yes; after we had fetched what we
could carry of that long grass—two big
trusses. It grows 10 or 12 feet tall,
and is now quite dry. Part of it Blake
made into torches, and we fired the
bush all across the foot of the cleft.
Really, one would not have thought
there was that much dry wood in so
green a dell. On either side of the
rill the grass and brush flared like
tinder, and the flames swept up the
cleft far quicker than we had ex
pected. We could hear them crackling
and roaring louder than ever after the
smoke shut out our view."
"Surely, there Is nothing so very
horrible in that."
"No, oh, no; it was not that. But
the beast—the leopard! At first we
heard one roar; then It was that
dreadful snarling and yelling—most
awful squalling! The wretched thing
came leaping and tumbling down the
path, all singed and blinded. Blake
lired the big truss of grass, and the
brute rolled right into the flames. It
was shocking—dreadfully shocking!
The wretched creature writhed and
leaped about till it plunged into the
pool. When it sought to crawl out,
all black and hideous, Blake went up
a*id killed it with his club —crushed in
its skull— Ugh!"
Miss Leslie gazed at the unnerved
Englishman with calm scrutiny.
"But why should you feel so about
it?" she asked. "Was it not the
beast's life against ours?"
"But so horrible a death!"
"I'm sure Mr. Blake would have pre
ferred to shoot the creature had he
a gun. Having nothing else than fire,
I think it was all very brave of him.
Now we are sure of water and food.
Had we not best be going?"
"It was to fetch you that Blake
sent me."
Winthrope spoke with perceptible
stiffness. He was chagrined, not only
by her commendation of Blake, but
by the indifference with which she had
met his agitation.
They started at once, Miss Leslie
In the lead. As they rounded the point
she caught sight of the smoke still
rising from the cleft. A little later
she noticed the vultures which were
streaming down out of the sky from
all quarters other than seaward. Their
focal point seemed to be the trees at
the foot of the cleft. A nearer view
showed that they were alighting in the
thorn bushes on the south border of
the wood.
Of Blake there was nothing to be
seen until Miss Leslie, still in the
lead, pushed in among the trees. There
they found him crouched beside a
small fire, near the edge of the pool.
Ho did not look up. His eyes were
riveted in a hungry stare upon several
pieces of flesh, suspended over the
flames on spits of green twigs.
"Hello!" he sang out, as he heard
their footsteps. "Just in time, Miss
Jenny. Your broiled steak'll ba ready
in short order."
"Oh, build up the flre! 'l'm simply
ravenous!" she exclaimed, between im
patience and delight.
Winthrope was hardly less keen;
yet his hunger did not altogether
blunt Ills curiosity.
"I say, Blake," he inquired, "where
did you get the meat?"
"Stow it, Win, my boy. This ain't
a packing house. The stuff may be
tough, but it's not —er —the other
thing. Here you are, Miss Jenny.
Chew it off the stick."
Though Winthrope had his suspi
cions, he took the piece of half-burned
flesh which Blake handed him in turn
ana fell to eating without further ques
tion. As Blake had surmised, the
roast proved far other than tender.
Hunger, however, lent It a most ap
petizing flavor. The repast ended
when there was nothing left to devour.
Blake threw away his empty spit and
rose to stretch. He waited for Miss
Leslie to swallow her last mouthful
and then began to chuckle.
"What's the joke?" asked Win
thrope.
Blake looked at him solemnly.
"Well now, that was downright
mean of me," he drawled; "after rob
bing them, to laugh at it!"
"Robbing who?"
"The buzzards."
"You've fed us on leopard meat!
It's —it's disgusting!"
"I found it filling. How about you,
Miss Jenny?"
Miss Leslie did not know whether to
laugh or to give way to a feeling of
nausea. She did neither.
"Can we not find the spring of which
you spoke?" she asked. "I am thirsty."
"Well, I guess the fire is about burnt
out," assented Blake. "Come on; we'll
see."
The cleft now had a far different as
pect from what it had presented on
their first visit. The largest of the
trees, though scorched about the base,
still stood with unwithered foliage,
little harmed by the flre. But many
of their small companions had been
killed and partly destroyed by the heat
and flames from the burning brush. In
places the flre was yet smouldering.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
"Navigates" His Farm.
A story which almost parallels that
told of Capt. Gray, the sailor-farmer
of Toddy Pond, who is said to carry a
compass 011 his plow to run the fur
rows straight, comes from Cranberry
isles. One sea captain, who enjoys
the proud distinction of owning one
of the very few horses on the island,
got alarmed for fear that he would
lose his bearings in the recent smoke,
and on the veracious accounts of sober
citizens took the binnacle from the
vessel and strapped it alongside the
seat of his wagon, fearing that the
weather might become so thick that
he would lose his bearings and have
to navigate in what was worse than a
fog. It is currently reported that h<-
shouts at his team to turn to star
board or port. Instead of the more
conventional landlubber terms usual
ly employed. Kennebec (Ale. >
Journal.
"I love you" lasts longer when ii
grows from"l like you."
j Tbt flaei U Bay Cbttf >
J J. F. PARSONS' ?
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