Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-07-13
CHAPTER IV-Continued.

Il seen him, Mr. Fanshaw; 1 seen him
| myself comm down out of de sky las
! night. 1 was out on deck, sun
Farshaw looked quickly from the
| negros face to the girls. as if he sus-
pected a hoax. but the terror in one face
and the mystification in the other were
obviously genuine.
| Then he rose and went over to the buff
fet. returning to the table with the oddly
shaped. rudely whitfield stick. do you
mean to say he demanded, looking up
at the girl with a puzzled frown-"do you
4 mean to say that he, the man you
dreamed about. made you present of
| this stick?"
able way of putting it. yes; at least. 1t
slipped out of his belt and / found 1t
where he had been sitting. But can you
| imagine what he used it for?"
"Oh. l know what it is. but that only
makes the puzzle all the deeper. It's an
Eskimo throwing stick. They use 1t to
shoot darts with. 1t lies in the palm of
the hand. so. and the dart is put in that
groove, though the butt of this one
seems curiously misshapen: l can't make
how the thing got aboard the yacht; it
| wasn't here yesterday"
| ''Of course not she said, my sky
man brought it,"
gray hair perplexedly. Then laid the
thing down and seated himself at the
table. AT any rate" he said. I'VE
needn't let even a mystery spoil our
almost nothing. That omelet deserves
better treatment"
| Obediently she took up her fork. but
| almost Immediately laid it down again.
and he saw her eyes brighten with tears:
"Of course. If there'd been any news, If
there'd been anything to find, we'd have
| heard
Silently he reached across the table and
| patted the hand that lay there on the
white cloth.
"Oh. 1 know I oughtn't to cry she
said. "and l won't; it's your goodness
and kindness to me as much as anything
else. Ever since he went away you've
been like a father to me, and Tom. dear
! ing this ship and coming up here your
| self, facing the dangers yourself and let
| ting Tom face them. all for such an i'm
| possible. hopeless hope as that message
| the sea brought to u.s.
Her voice faltered there, and she bent
down abruptly and kissed the hand that
| was still caressing her own.
MY child" he said. your father and
were like brothers-nearer to each
other than most brothers. He went away.
knowing that il his venture failed. II it
ended fatally for him. as 1t probably did,
| l should regard you as my daughter-as
| just as much a child of mine as Tom is.
| If you hadn't been in the case at all We d
have built this ship and come uD here
| to find Tom Fielding just the same.
| There. don't cry. Put on that big fur
| coat of yours and come out with me on
deck
motely resembling the Aurora had ever
| cut the arctic circle before: but for all
| that old Mr.. Fanshaw had known what
he was about when he ordered the build
ing OF her Capt. Corcoran of the United
| States revenue cutter Bear. q manswho
| knew arctic water and arctic ice as we'll
| as any who ever sailed, admitted as much
when he came aboard at st. Michaels to
pay call. In fact, old Mr.. Fanshaw
| knew what he was about most of the
| time. as his financial rivals were fire.
quently forced to admit.
| His later years of leisure and compare
tive ease had not dulled the intellectual
processes of that keen, shrewd brain Of
| his; and he knew the sea better than he
knew most things. In his early rough
| and-tumble days he had voyaged much
| at random about the world. and now that
he was old fair proportion of his great
wealth was invested in ocean carriers.
The news from Capt. Fielding = a
strangely pathetic account Of his expedi-
| ton and the loss of his ship. which an
arctic whaler had f1shed up in a bottle
| in San Francisco until after the passage
through Boring straits was ice-lOcked
| for the winter.
Fanshaw had spent the time. therefore.
and devoted practically the whole OF his
personal attention to building and equip
| ping the Aurora for the exact purpose
| to which he meant to put her. Her hull
had received the most thoughtful care,
and for just one great purpose. In vain
the designers at the shipyard protested
and laborious in a head sea- Fanshaw
replied, TRANQUILITY, that he knew that as
we'll as they did. but that a hull of that
shape could not be crushed in the ice,
| whatever the milling forces of the pack
| which beset her might be. 1t was this
milling force of the pack that had de-
strOyed Fieldings ship; that had de-
stroyed. also-though Fanshaw did not
| were beset she would be able to wait
till open water came again.
She had started out equipped with
everything that knowledge and invention
prove necessary on her long. precarious
voyage. And after that she had been
supplied with all the hxuries that there
was room for. Fanshaw had done a good
deal Of roughing it in his younger days,
Ind he was willing to rough 1t again
should the event make 1t necessary but
| until the necessity should arise he meant
| to be as comfortable as possible.
1t was altogether likely. they thought
| when they started out. that they should
| be able to return from their expedition
| without wintering north of the straits.
In that case the expedition would be
nothing more than q comfortable yacht
| ing cruise. And there was no use, Mr.
Fanshaw said, in beginning to eat walrus
steak the moment one got outside the
Golden Gate, just because the cruise was
| to be i'm arctic waters. So the breakfas st
| to which he and Jeanne had just done
| such scarrty justice was as daintily
| served and as appetizing a repast as
| they could have had in the great stone
house on Mob Hill that Jeanne had called
| home ever since her father went away.
1t was under this reasonable expecta-
ton that the voyage would be productive
| the old gentleman had yielded to Jeanne s
impassioned plea and taken her along.
The moment Mr.. Fanshaw and Jeanne
emerged upon the deck they heard the
| sound of oars beneath them. and looking
| over the rail saw one of the boats in
| which the shore party had set out pull
ing up alongside the accommodation lad
der. Three men were in it, two of the
crew and Tom Fanshaw.
What news, Tom?" his father called
| out. anxiously enough to belle his former
tranquil manner, Have you found any
thing? l hope there's nothing wrong
The younger man looked up. He saw
his father. but not the girl. Nothing
| wrong" he growled, except this in
! fernal ankle of mine. I've sprained it
again. and 1 did 1t just When" He
broke the sentence off short there, his
eye falling at that moment upon Jeanne.
| She paled little. for she had been
been about to tell would not be told
INN no tnl Rf,t