The morning Astorian. [volume] (Astoria, Oregon) 1899-1930, 1905-01-05

up the river. No canoe was In sight
Filled with alarm climbed Into my
canoe. tiny thina and padded furi-
cusly up the stream ahead OF the RISING
wind.
Half a mile up the river, and no sign
Of the canoelsts. The wind swept down
and almost instantly the water wal
beaten into whitecaps, and the little
shell bobbed like cork. but held II
straight ahead and watched Il with the
Instinct of one trained TO the paddle
And then the rain came!
As ! rounded bend In the channel
saw them. They were huddled under
a heavy pine near the waters edge
The waves were trying to drag the ca
noe away from the bank, and Blakes
lee, the picture Of woe, was struggling
20 get II ashore.
ran my canoe close In and sprans
upon the bank before they saw me. II
was growing dark. what with the
storm and the lateness Of the hour
Miss Milwood turned and gave a glad
cry.
"oh, Jack" she said piteously, ''rm
SO glad! We've been unable to 90,
home. Our canoe was beaten back by
the storm, and II upset and we were
thrown into the water, and II was O
mercy II was near the shore, else we'd
have drowned!'
"How did you escapei" asked
stifiiy.
We've waded And I'm chilling to
death, Jackr' Her lips were blue with
cold. and she shlvered miserably, Poor
Blakeslee was In no better plight
FASTENED to right the other canoe
with Blakeslee's help. Then l put the
luckless boatman aboard, padded him
across to the mainland and bade him
sprint for the hotel and get roaring
Are ready. l then recrossed the river
lifted the terrified girl into the large
canoe, tied the other behind and set out
In the teeth Of the storm. Doggedly
and steadily, keeping as much as posi-
BILE In the lea OF the shore, we crept
down the angry sheet OF water. Miss
Milwood. strangely quiet, huddled In
the bottom of the canoe and said not
word. But | could hear her teeth
chattering and felt love and pity
struggling hard with my new resolu.
ton to be grimly firm and uncompro-
missing.
My muscles were aching and my
heart throbbing as though II would
burst when at last we drew into the
shelter Of the boathouse. ! fastened
the canoes and lifted the wet figure
ashore.
"oh, Jack" she quavered, Il should
have died IL you hadn't
II beg you won't mention II, Miss
Milwood." said with exaggerated po-
likeness. II was mean thing to say. |
realized It at the time, but II was nee.
essary II | was to crush the fierce long
Ing 10 take her In my arms.
hurried her up to the hotel. From
'is'" t, time she pushed back her wet
.ia tnd gazed at me with pathetic
asfuuess which affected not to see.
T. storm had blown swiftly away,
and the big white moon was sailing
through the sky dotted with scudding
cloud drift.
resigned her to the care Of the go
licitous Mrs. Kerens. who was all
sympathy and bustling motherliness.
Blakeslee was there in an agony Of con
triton went away, changed my wet
clothing and sat down within the half
lighted library, gloomlly watching the
pine logs In the wide fireplace.
After about an hour timid hand
parted the curtains, and ] knew with
out turning my head who 1t was. She
came in slowly.
"Jack," she said tremulously.
| sprang to my feet and offered her q
chair. She refused to notice It. She
held out her hands. / In turn refused
to notice them.
Jack" she whispered, "are you an
gryT'
mot at all, Miss Milwood" reJoin-
ed, still excessively polite and proper
II am merely going to reform"
She knew.
For a moment she stood silent with
her head bent down. / stood gazing
over her head with eyes which dared
not look for a moment at hers, else all
we're lost. Then | heard her sob.
ut was a bad day for butterflies" |
muttered husklly.
She glanced up, and saw her eyes
filled with tears. This butterfly IL
tired, Jack-dear JackP' she whispered.
ut doesn't want to fyg'
''Never-for alwaysT
'cNever-for alwaysw
It was good-all that wretchedness
and anxiety of long months, when she
lay tight against my breast and kiss.
ed the perverse red lips-meek now and
sweetly submissive. Perverse no more,
for the butterfly was caught