The Winslow mail., 1913-06-21

until we can't get across for hours"
cried the woman nervOUsly.
Sometimes" said Bedight, looking
squarely at her, "a man is not as
dangerous after dark as q wind
storm by day
Nonsense" exclaimed Miss McCon-
nell. Where's your sporting blood,
Let's make a try for it,
The mayor turned and walked down
to the boat The girl followed and got
aboard. He rolled up the sleeves of
his light shirt and took the oars. AS
he did so, drop of rain fell into the
boat.
Really, Miss Mcconnell" he pro-.
tested, this is unwise. You will not
only get q good wetting but there is
grave danger Of"
Il am neither sugar nor a coward"
she said curtly Go ahead"
Bedight fell to his oars but his In
spection of the sky over the girls
head as she faced him was far from
reassuring. The clouds had taken
more definite form and in their center.
occupying the front of the great stage
of the sky, clung balloon-like mass
of twisting matter. Bedight looked
at the girl apprehensively, as she sat
in the stern of the boat, taking the
splashing drops of rain like a Spar
tan.
Miss Mcconnell, we are going to
have bad storm presently. Don't you
think it would be better to go back?
Look at the sky behind you"
She turned her head. An exclama-
tion of surprise broke from her lips.
IF you think best, Mr. Bedight.
am afraid l have been foolhardy-but
I'm still satisfied to go on If you are"
proudly.
A terrific clap of thunder directly
overhead, coupled with roar in the
west, caused Bedight to hesitate. In
stead of turning the boat, he headed
for the shore. Behind them the storm
was rushing with ten league wings
and the waves leaped into an action
that set the boat tossing like a speck
upon boiling pot. The day became
as dark as night, save for the light
ming flashes.
In moment the storm broke. Amid
the crash of rending trees, the de-
moniacal shriekings of the wind, the
terror of the lightning, the boat sped
onward along the shore, one oar gone,
the other useless in such sea.
In the main channel no craft could
which the two raced before the wind,
the she'll few on the wings of the
tempest.
White but brave, frightened but in
full control of her nerves, the girl
clung to the boat. Straight toward
the narrow neck Of Goose lake, the
craft bore like wind-whipped ice
boat under gale.
The mayor gritted his teeth. Once
outside the smaller lake the course Of
the craft would be directly across the
larger body of water.
He studied the girl opposite Did
she realize the danger?
"Mr. Bedight," she spoke regretfully.
with an effort at bravery. "I-if we
go through into Sylvan lake lin
sorry 1 didn't take your advice. 1t
won't help much now to know that
I've repented of my decision-but L"
The mayor interrupted, shouting
against the wind:
Il think we'll avoid it, and surely
this must pass quickly"
Her answer was lost in the musketry
and deluge that followed. The boat,
half filled with water, lurched perilous-
Iy. rolled like cedar log and turned
turt1el
Bedight felt himself carried forward
with terrible speed and deposited
upon the shore. He shook the water
from his eyes. Beside him on the sand
lay the girl, and rod down the shore
the boat hung upon the shingle.
She opened her eyes to the sound
of his voice and the pressure Of his
hand upon her heart. Coughing, she
sat up on the beach and rubbed the
sand from her face and hands. Her
clothes hung closely upon her, show
ing the outlines of her body. The
rain still fell in torrents and ran down
their necks in tiny rivulets.
"Oh!" she gasped, when her senses
marshaled themselves from the be-
wilderment, "I've lost my sketch!"
The mayor laughed.
'If you had been trife less fortu-
nate, you might not be worrying about