The Colorado statesman., 1915-07-10
A LOON LAKE GUIDE
BY cLARISSA MAcKIE.

q iCu-hlu6Cu plciShDiu oChl OuI Ills
CHEEKY morning call.
Isabel Orth came down the path
among the pines, a fresh young form
CARRIED in crisp white linen She
paused for an instant and peered
through the straight pine trunks and
caught glimpse of the canoe with
her guide waiting patiently beside
1t.
Her guide, John Dunston. was un.
like any other guide who had served
the Orths on Loon lake. Young and
straight-limbed, with brown hair, eyes
and skin, and a close-lipped mouth, he
might be mistaken for the typical
woodsman, only that when his lips
parted in speech his voice lacked the
rough intonation of the natives, and
his words were carefully chosen. The
Orths and their friends acknowledged
that John Dunston was quite "superi-
or" to his station in life.
If Isabel admitted it, she gave no
utterance to her thoughts. Her atti-
tude toward Dunston was as coolly i'm
personal as it was toward Trapper Joe
or Hank Pike. If anything, it was a
little more pronounced in hauteur, due,
perhaps, to self-rebuke for secret in
terest in the young man.
Good morning, Miss Ortiz" Dun
ston lifted his hat as he arose from the
pebbly beach.
Good morning. Dunston," returned
Isabel. DO tell me what that bird is
that little black mite, with touches
Of red and the pearly breast-hear
him?"
ee-chee-che-e-e-e-e
Dunston looked up into the thick
tangle of a tall elderberry bush.
That's a redstart. CHEEKY little
beggars, aren't they?" he asked as he
bent to the canoe and arranged the
cushions.
YES" said Isabel. Are you ready
for me?"
Just a moment-there!" Presently,
Isabel was leaning among crimson
cushions while Dunston's strong arms
were sending the paddle in flashing
arcs from side to side. The water fell
from the blades in silvery drops.
iSubCi natShCh lhc ihONo
ment of the paddles and frowned a
little when she discovered that she
had forgotten the beauty of the morn
ing, the song of birds, the ripple of
the lake, everything. in the fascina-
ton of watching Dunston's strong
arms as they rose and fell with each
dip of the paddle.
"Tnrn hna6 RI tha lnft-dnnft
move suddenly-you will glimpse a
deer" whispered Dunston.
Isabel obeyed. For an instant she
saw the beautiful brown head with
soft startled eyes fixed on the canoe
and its occupants. Then it vanished
and there was a crashing of under
brush along the shore.
Isabel laughed in sheer delight.
wasn't it lovely?" she asked impuls-
lively.
Dunstons reply was amazing.
why, you are a real girl after ALI"
he exclaimed, and Immediately bit his
lip with annoyance.
Isabel blushed to her fair hair. In
her establishment at the guides out
burst she forgot their relative posi-
tons and spoke quite naturally.
"Of course 1 am a real girl. Don't
I always act like one?" she questioned
curiously.
81 beg your pardon, Miss Orth,' he
said contritely, "but-somehow. it
seems to me that you take your pleas
ures rather seriously for a young
girl"
Il am twenty-four," admitted Isabel
disagreeable as l am when in your
company, Dunston!"
Dunston concealed a smile. Miss
Orth's naughty demeanor masked a
very agreeable simplicity.
Il am sorry" he said humbly Per
haps l could change places with
Hank Mr.. Luttrell has asked me if
I could not break my contract with
your father. Hank is considered the
best guide in the Loon district, and I
know he would be glad to come back
to your father"
mol" cried Isabel sharply. You
cannot go, Dunston; my father would
not like it. You are bound to Orth
cottage until November"
Dunston bowed his head in ac-
acknowledgement, but his brown eyes
showed golden sparks as if some flame
burned within.
AS was customary on pleasant days,
the guide took Isabel to certain tiny
island in the lake, where a hammock
swung under q tree At shutdown he
would come after her and their silent
trips to and from the camp and the
island held a growing significance be.
cause of the girls quite unnecessary
aloofness and the mans cool indiffer-
ence beyond the mere performance of
his duty.
Isabel never forgot that she was
Henry Orth's daughter, and John
Dunstop never failed to remember that
ha Il; %, l.,