Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1907-06-25
ter, that there is no lady by the name

"By the great horn spoon, never
knowed Of any sich-I never heare
tell of any!" replied Mr.. Dexter, witt
growing impatience. II amt one o.
the overcurious kind, but what may bt
your business with this Tempest wo'
man, sir, when ye find herr"
Fleetwood laughed; then gave Ms
blonde mustache thoughtful stroke.
well, really, Mr.. Dexter, I haven'
any business whatever with her, and
besides, you must first catch your hare
before YOU cook him-no, I should say
catch your hake before you transform
him into chowder."
"Haddock Is best for chowder, sir
never take hake when you can git had
dock"
"All right. I will remember. one
week ago this very day, Tom Dexter
I arrived in Cinderville, led hither,
confess, by an abnormal curiosity to
discover a certain Concordia Tempest
whom 1 had good reason to believe
was a resident Of this place. AND
now, for seven long days, I have
searched the town high and low, up
and down, and can find no person an
swering to the name; consequently II
IS plain to me that must give over
my quest, and go home to Canada
Since an old inhabitant like you
knows nothing of her. feel quite con-
vinced that Concordia Tempest Is
myth"
1t was quite true. Guy Fleetwood,
bearing in his pocket the address CIV
en- him by poor Hoxie, had actually
come to this out-of-way fishing ham
let in search of Black Dawes cores
pondent. Maud Lotus, his betrothed
wife, was watching for him at Rook-
wood. His fond English bred mother
waited impatiently for him across the
line: and here the young fellow was
wasting his time in this strange place.
and upon this ridiculous quest. Why
had he voluntarily assumed the task
of finding the daughter of that cut
throat and robber, Black Dave? He
could not tell. Why will men ever do
foolish, inexplicable things?
"Well," said Old Tom Dexter, calk-
ing away for dear life. Il knows about
hake and halibut and porgies, and
squib, and mackerel and menhaden,
but I'm blessed II 1 knows anything
about myths, sir. Howsomever, It's
my belief that there's no Concordia
Tempest in Cindeville, nor ever was;
and a woman with a name like that
oughtn't to be let live anywhere. Now,
in what quarter hev ye been a-looking
for herr"
Fleetwood shifted his position care
lessly. The small waves were tapping
against the old wharf. A battered
schooner lay at anchor close by-its
crew had gone ashore. The gray wing
of a mackerel-gull hovered over a dis
tant wave, like a moth above bios
som. A wasp. which had made her
nest under the old figure-head on the
fish-house, was buzzing angrily about
Fleetwood's blonde head. her long legs
hanging straight down, her black
body ringed with vivid yellow. He
took off his straw hat and brushed the
troublesome insect languidly away.
II have been east and west" he
laughed; "up the hill to the church,
and down the hill to the beach. l
have vainly implored every man, wo-
man and child in Cinderville to give
me information of Miss Tempest.
More than all that, I have been to the
postoffice-the greasy rat-hole under
SIMPSONS flsh-house."
"Ha! And what did old Sampson
say to ye. sir?"
81 politely inquired II letters ad-
dressed to Concordia Tempest ever
came to Cinderville, and II that person
herself appeared at the postoffice to
claim them. BY Jove! your antique
postmaster turned on me, like dog
fish-said he never told tales about let
ters, or spied on parties that came FOR
them, and bade me go about my busi-
ness. l showed him a handful Of mon
ey, l coaxed and cajoled, but he re-
mained incorruptible, and I unenligh-
tened. That man ought to be- put in
a pickle of Cadiz salt, and preserved
to a virtuous immortality"
Old Dexter grinned.
Maybe twas the cut Of yer jib-yer
white hands, and sich, that set him
agin ye Old Sampson don't like the
summer gentry. He's as close-mouthed
as an oyster-wouldn't tell ye, If ne
knowed, but he don't know. sir-he
amt lived at Cinderville but few year
he came from Eastport way-l was
born herewith conspicuous supe-
riority-"and can count you out every
family in the place-Im as we'll ac-
quainted with 'em as 1 be with my
own, sir. Now, I ask you, amt that
enough? Do you 'spect any woman
Tempest can-be abiding in Cinder-
vile and / not get wind Of it,"
mo, Tom," replied Fleetwood, you
are right. 1t is enough, my search Is
over-I give it up, here and now"
He drew from his notebook the ad-
dress which he had received from
Hoxie, the herder, tore it into the most
minute fragments, and cast it upon the
Cinderville beach.
"Hallo," cried old Dexter, here
comes Rube, with his catboat. Is he
a'going to take you out for a sail, sir?'
boat came gliding up to the wharf
manned by raw-boned young fellow
in a red shirt and canvas trousers
Reuben Dexter, the son Of old Tom.
YES" replied Fleetwood, growing
lively, Il have an appointment with
Rube. This is our last sail together.
shall leave Cinderville tomorrow"
Sorry to hear that, sir. l like ye
If Jake Sampson doesn't. Now, II
ye're a-going out with Rube," raising
his voice suddenly, so that his son
might hear, and grinning from ear to
ear, I'VE sheer off from Porgy Light
sir-there's a gal over in that air d.
rection that Rube is mighty taken
with II n he that We go too near the