Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1911-04-07

self into a man and look at me in sur
prise, and ask me, in English, what
in the world l am doing here-I had
the yacht; and ask me if I'm real"
There was a moment Of silence aft
err that. Unconsciously they drew
little nearer together. Then Cayley
spoke. I'm real, at any rate, he
said; at least I'm tax payer, and l
weigh 100 pounds, and l have name
and address. It's Philip Cayley, Ii
that will make me seem more natural,
and my headquarters this summer are
over on Point Barrow"
I'm not dreaming, them" she asked
obviously.
NO" he said; eff either of us Is
dreaming, it's not you. May | furl up
my wings and talk to you for awhile?'
Her eyes were on the broad-spread,
shimmering planes which lay on the
ice behind him. She seemed hardly
to have heard his question though
she answered it with an almost voice
less yes" Then she approached.
half fearfully, the thing he called his
wings
Materials" he said with a smile
split bamboo and carbon and catgut
and a fabric of bladders, cemented
with fish glue And folding it up is
rather an ungainly job. The birds still
have the advantage of me there. In
a strong wind it's not very easy to do
without damaging something. Would
you mind slipping that joint for me
that one right by your hand? It's just
like fishing rod"
She did as he asked, and her smile
convinced him that she had at least
half-guessed his purpose in asking the
service of her. The next moment her
words confirmed it.
"You wanted me to make sure, l
suppose, that it would not turn into
great roc when I touched it and fly
away with me to the Valley of Dia-
monds." She patted the furled wing
gently with both hands. Il suppose,
she continued, zone could dream as
wildly as this, although | never have
unless, of course, this is dream.
But" and now she held out her hand
to him, but l hope I am awake. And
my name is Jeanne Fielding"
He had the hand in his, and noticed
how live and strong and warm 1t was,
before she pronounced her name. Az
the sound of it, he glanced at her curl
ously; but all he said just then was,
THANK you" and busted himself I'M
mediately with completing the process
of furling his wings.
When he had finished, he tossed the
sheep-skin down in little hollow in
the foe and with a gesture invited
her to be seated.
ooh, I've a great pile Of bear skins
out here" she said. quite ridiculous
pile of them, considering it is not a
cold night; and we can make our
selves comfortable here, or go aboard
the Yacht. just as you please"
They were seated side by side In
the little nest she had made for her
self. before he reverted to the idea
which had sprung up In his mind
upon hearing her name. There was
a Captain Fielding once" he said
slowly. who set out from San Fran
cisco half a dozen years ago, in the
hope of discovering the pole by the
way of Behring strait. His ship was
never seen again, nor was any word
received from him. Finding you here
and hearing your name, wondered"
yes" she said gravely, "he was my
father. We got news of him last win
ter, If you could call it news, for it
was four years old before it reached
us. A whaler in the arctic fleet
picked up a floating bottle with mes
sage from him telling where he was.
So we have come here to find him
at least to find where he died, for
suppose there is no hope-neVer so
much as a grain Of hope of anything
better"
To BE CONTINUED.