The Mena weekly star., 1911-02-23

but also that the yacht was nowhere
to be seen. A bank of fog had come
rolling in from the eastward, so
heavy as to render an object 100
PAGES away totally invisible. The
clump of empty buildings here on the
beach could hardly be half that dis
lance, as she remembered, yet looking
round from her seat in the row boat,
she could make out no more than
their blurred masses against the white
ice and sand which surrounded them.
She scrambled out of the boat and
pulled II high up on the beach The
fog made the air seem cold, though
for the arctic It was a mild night.
Two OF the abandoned buildings on
the beach behind her were mere
sheds, windowless, absolutely bare,
never having served, evidently. any
other purpose than that of storage.
But the third, and largest, as she re-
membered 1t, offered a shelter that
was becoming attractive. There were
some rude hunks in 1t where she
could rest comfortably enough; and,
unless she was mistaken, Scales had
left in the hut a half-burned candle
which they had used in exploring its
dark interior. She had a box of wax
vestas in her pocket. She could go in
there and make herself at home. and
at the same time keep an alert ear
for a hail from the yacht.
She found the candle In the place
where she remembered Scales had
laid 1t down, struck a light and
wedged the candle into a knot-hole
She turned toward one of the hunks
with the idea Of stretching out there,
and by relaxing her muscles, persuade,
perhaps, her oyerstrung nerves to re-
lax. too.
She had taken step toward 1t, in
deed, before she saw, through the
murk and candle smoke, the thing that
lay right before her eyes-a rather
large, brass-bound rosewood box or
chest. 1t had not been here in the
afternoon when they had entered the
place, for they had searched its bare
interior thoroughly In the hope that
there might be something which previ-
GUS investigators had overlooked. This
box, six inches high and foot long,
or more, could not have been here
then. 1t was standing now in the most
conspicuous place in the room-in the
very middle OF the bunk
The sight of 1t might well have
caused establishment or alarm in the
girls mind. But 1t was neither alarm
nor establishment that her next act
expressed. She dropped down on her
knees beside the rude wooden bunk,
drew the chest up close in the tight
embrace of her young arms, laid her
cheek against the cold polished sur
face OF its blackened wood, and cried
Every question that might have
asked itself how the thing could
have come there. and what its coming
might pretend to herself or to the
other OF the Aurora's people-was
swept away in a sudden rush of flial
affection and regret which the sight
OF 1t instantly awoke IL had reached
her with that sudden poignant stab
Of memory which inanimate objects.
familiar by long association, seem to
be more potent to call up than the
very persons of the friends with whom
they are associated. The sight OF her
father himself could hardly have had
so instantaneous and overwhelming
an effect upon her as the sight of this
old chest, which was one of the earli-
est of her associations with him.
1t had always stood, until he had
taken it with him on that last voyage
of his. upon certain farther corner
of his desk in the old library. 1t was
one of those objects OF class that
children always love-smooth, pol
shed, beautiful; beautiful and, at the
same time, defying curiosity.
It was quite a masterpiece of cabi'
net work. No hinges were visible,
and the cover fitted so closely upon
the box inself that the line which
separated them was hard to discover.
And there was no trace of keyhole or
lock. To those uninitiated into its
secret, 1t defed any attempt to
open II.
Presently she seated herself on the
bunk, took the little chest On her
knees and set about opening It. Be
tween the cold and her excitement she
found this rather a difficult thing TO
do. though her mind never, never
hesitated over the slightest detail OF
| the necessary formula of procedure
She knew in just what order to press