The Bamberg herald. (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, April 14, 1921, Page 3, Image 3
CHAPTER I.
"Tony"?For Short.
Another winter had lifted its !cy f
fingers from the .Storm Country and
Lake Cayuga, and an early spring had
brought from the South the red-breast- ^
ed robins and thousands of other birds ,
to build their homes in the Forest j
city, as Ithaca, N. Y., is well called,
for to the south, the east, the west,
and even to the north where the lake j
cut sharply around a corner, Droaci
forests stretched their lengths and *
heights of leaf and bough on mini a- (
ture mountains. I
One evening on the western side of
the railroad tracks, a girl stood before i
a small building over which, like ropes j
of green, draped the branches of a
weeping willow tree. This building ^
was different from any of the other ^
habitations near it in that it was well j
painted, and the door stood open all j
day. | j
'Twas a strange little girl that
gazed up with searching eagerness at
the two lighted signs that had arrested
her attention. In her arms she
held a diminutive guinea pig, and the
way she hugged it close demonstrated
her love for % it #
"THE SALVATION ARMY," she J
(malln/l /-.n f a n rl ihrwncrhf-fnll v POnSld
OpCIICU V/Ul uuvi VA V?
ered it.
"Everybody Is welcome here," she
?
read slowly. That meant that anyone
could enter if he wanted to, she de- ^
cided, and as Tonnibel Devon did
want to go In, she softly tiptoed up *
the steps and peeped into the room.
As there was nobody In sight, she
sidled in and looked about ^
"Welcome" was curved in letters of
red above a table, and the silent young
stranger sighed. She couldn't under-'
stand how a girl could be really wel- t
come anywhere. Of course her mother
liked her and missed her when she
was away, but Tony knew of no other
place where she was really wanted v
but the canal boat, called Mary and
Dirty Mary for short, which had been 1
her home ever since she could remember.
"Glory be to God in the highest" *
swung In letters of gold across the "
right wall, and to the left "Stand Still r
and. See the Salvation of the Lord,"
kept her attention a little longer. She 1
didn't know what they meant but the Q
varied colors shining brillilnt in the
bright Might calmed her turbulent ^
spirit and made her happy. She
hugged the pig closer, bent her head 1
and kissed the top of Its ear. ^ c
"I guess we're In a church, Gussie." I J
?'* ?"nn/1 TTA11 mncfn't OTTITlt i
Kile S211U SlUUU, auu jvu luuwi-u v 5* ?? - |
or squeal like you do on the Dirty | '
Mary. It's awful nice and quiet ain't j *
It honey?" r
"Were you speaking to me?" said a *
voice ffbm near the door. - s
Tonnihel Pevon struggled to her *
feet turned around ahct saW a young s
man looking at her. A flame of red j t
rushed over the tanned skin, but be-- 0
cause he was smiling and kindly, she '
smiled back, a dimple coming to life 1 c
at each corner of her mouth.
"Nope." she flung out in confusion, j l
"I was talkin' to Gussie-Piglet here, j p
Mebbe her and me hadn't ought to be C
here. You can kick us out if you j
want to." i t
Philip MacCauley, the captain of |
the Salvation army in Ithaca, bowed, j "
and then he laughed. j p
"Every one is welcome here," he ' ;
quoted, coming forward. "Where'd i c
you come from? I've never seen you ; r
before." j i
"I'm staying up Hoghole way," re- ; c
plied Tony. "I ain't been around ?
Ithaca long. This is an awful nice ;
room, ain't it huh?" j ?
"Yes, very. We like it," replied the ' l
young man. "Sit down; don't be in a : ^
hurry. I want to talk to you."
'l'onninei uiu sn uuwu uui uui vcijr , ^
comfortably. She was embarrassed In j
the presence of this handsome young ; <]
stranger, abashed in the glamor of his <
uniform, and all the beauty of him. | r
With boyish admiration he was con- j
templating the sparkle of her gray j
eyes, shaded by long lashes as ebony
black as her hair which hung in ring- > ,
lets to her waist. He decided thatj j
she was very pretty, and that he liked
to have her in the Salvation army ,
quarters. j
"Can't you stay for meeting this ; ^
evening?" he asked presently. "We
have singing here." j
Tony's eyes deepened almost to lus- 1 .
trou? black. !
"(>h. I'd love that!" Then she shook !
her heart. "Nope," she went on. "! got i
to go home to mummy. Site's all I
aione! Mebbe when my <!;id<lv gets *
buck. I'll come some time and sir e!o<m c
through the night." '! 1
For an instant the sue'b- s'cved
about the bey's lips, lhen so'
?;.??) hm?iv "V.'T his < :; v- M:?,r
i} -> . : 1 } ; .. I !
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uve
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MILLER
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copy?/6rrs> g? #?j&-ttyrPAffr
fho 3iorm Coutytvu 1
'That's as true's you're born," came
jack promptly from the parted red
Ips. "I know that because my mother
Is sick every day, and she cries too.
rhat's misery, ain't It?"
Captain MacCauley was used to
:ales of woe, but he knew a panacea
'or them. "Yes, it is so," he said.
'Perhaps you could get her to come
lere some evening! Do you think you
x>uld?"
"Daddy wouldn't let her," was the
eply, and she lifted unfathomable
saddened gray eyes to his. "You see
vhen a man owns a woman, and she
lon't do the things he tells her to, he
>eats her, huh?"
There was mute pleading in her expression
as she drew back on the
>ench a little farther away from him.
*Lh! He might have known that she
lad been swept along by the relentess
tide of brutality. He sighed a
ittle. He had seen enough of ignorant
nen with their supreme egotism, to
mow she told the truth.
"Your father is?is?cruel to your
nother, then?" he faltered.
She remained in deep though.. .?
;he space of a few seconds.
u 4 u ~Vv tvi/VWA ft In
"A swat ur twu, iiieuut: ujuic, oiju ?.
i killin' thing to women folks," was
he response she made confusedly at
ength.
So unusual had been her answer
hat Philip MacCauley gazed at her in
imazement ,
"Have you ever heard of?of God?"
te asked finally, his own confusion aprarent
in the stumble of his tongue.
Tonnibel laughed.
"I hear God d?n more'n a hundred
imes a day," she replied. "Is that
vhat you mean?".
"Not quite," answered Philip, starled.
"No! Not that."
"Then what?" demanded Tony.
'What kind of a God do you mean?"
"One that is good," explained Philp.
"There isn't any God but the one j
vho helps?"
"My mummy?" breathed the girl, J
nisty tears shadowing her eyes.
"Yes."
"Where is he, then?" The words ^
;hot forth with such insistence that
:omething within Philip MacCauley
ose to its demand. 3
"Some one's got to be good to my
nother," the girl ran on before he 1
:ould speak. "She's sick?and lonely. 1
)h, I've got to do something for her. 1
t71 ?_ ? 1 ? j ? > ^
iTuere 5 yuur ueiyiu vxuu, luiaici i
"Right here in this place," said
5hilip, a strange emotion sweeping
>ver him. "In fact there isn't any ;
dace where God is not."
"He wouldn't come In a dirty canal '
mat, would He?" demanded Tony,
>reathlessly. 1
Astonished at such crudeness, Cap- ]
ain MacCauley shifted himself about '
o he faced her squarely. Was it pre- (
ended Ignorance or innocence in the 1
earching gray eyes? Then he decided 1
hat truth was stamped on every line 1
if the upturned face.
"Of course, everywhere," he exIaimed
brokenly. "Why, dear child?" (
Tony Devon interrupted him swift- j
y. "Tell me how to manage it," she
>leaded. "How can I wheedle your
lod to the Dirty Mary?"
"To the what?" was the question
he boy asked in shocked swiftness.
"The Dirty Mary," repeated Tony.
'My mummy and me live on a canal j
>oat. Once she were just called ;
Mary.' But she's so d?d nasty, Ede j ^
alls her the Dirty Mary. She's a j ^
lice boat just the same as long as my j j
nummy's there. But I can't see how a | j
dean God could come on 'er. ... I {
juess you're foolin' me, mister."
Philip swallowed hard. Then slowly
ind gently he talked to her, trying to ! t
nake her understand as best he could j
vhat he meant by God, Spirit. ^
"And you can help your mother, lit:le?what's
your name?"
"Trtnr inct T/rnniHoi " chio mnmVklo/1
JL VU^ J J UOl JL. V/Ai UJlUVI) iXlUULiUAV/U* I
rhen her voice rose and she uttered j
;harply, "Now tell me how to help my !
nother."
Philip went to the altar and sorted
>ut a small card. }
"This," he said, coming back to her, ^
'has happy, loving thoughts written on ,
t. If you think these things all the J
ime?oh, how they will help both you ,
md your mother." | j
Wonderingly she took It in her ,
ingers. The first thing that met her
?yes was a beautiful uplifted face of a j
nan and in his arms was a little lamb. <
Jnderneath the picture was printed, j
'Feed my sheep." and directly under
'hat were the words, "Stand still and
;ee the salvation.of the Lord." Once .
iiore her eyes sought the face above,
i face wherein lay ai! the pity and
ove in the world.
t
Tony/Devon caught a glimpse of the {
c<s"<vi/ho was trying to teach, and
!'.'!iv'she went out of the Salvation
:v i);d! she held within the depths
: w r a wonderfully new and utterly (
: );' en. i?t h >H. ;
Sli panting for breath when
'! ? anngph-nk of the canal
A v; was i.,;A brewing tea
when the girl slipped down the steps
of the cabin.
"You been gone a long time, Tony,"
mumbled Mrs. Devon. "Did you see
anything of your daddy?"
"Nope, and I squinted In every beer
hole in Ithaca," Tony replied, "but?
but?but I found out something for
you. Listen ! There's somebody on this
boat besides me, and you?and Gussie.'"
"Who?" came sharply from the
woman.
She shivered, fearing that the law
lay in wait for her absent husband.
"Who, brat?" she repeated imploringly.
Tonnibel bent over and looked
straight into the sad, wan face.
"Onri insfr ? nlnfn lnvin' Ood !" sh?
J ^- ?
replied, her countenance expressing
unusual exaltation. "Sit a minute
while the tea's makin' good, and I'll
tell you."
Side by side they sat together on the
bunk while with lowered reverent
J- t?lJ- XL... O-.* MM
OIQC oy OIUC I liey oaL I vycmvi v>?
the Bunk.
voice the girl told the story of the
Shepherd who had said long ago with
infinite pity, "Feed my sheep."
"And mummy," the girl continued,
leaning her head against her mother's
arm, "Darling mummy, that beautiful
man said, "Love'd make crooked
things straight,' and?and It's so."
A look of unbelief came over Edith
Devon's face.
"Fiddle," she said in a disgusted
voice. "Tony, you ain't a brain in
your bean."
"I don't need any brains as long as I
s*ot this, Edie," the girl replied, lifting
the card she held. "Come on, let's
say these things over. Here's one
that'll keep?well, it'll help keep
iladdy from beatin' von."
Mrs. Devon grasped the girl's arm
in sudden frenzy.
"You told some one Uriah beats
me?" she demanded sharply.
"Mebbe I did, and mebbe I didn't,"
answered Tony, slyly, "but these here
cvords about standin' still and watching
Salvation slam good all about will
ieep pappy's fists up his sleeves. Say
it, Edie,* she ended.
"I won't," said Edith, getting up
swiftly. "If there's anything in it
rony, you can show me by gettin' your
hrmwv Afphhp hp's in iail."
"Even If he was," retorted the girl,
ivith a wise shake of her head, "lovin'
lard could make the coop-doors fly
Tide open-, and daddy'd flop out like a
iogfish flops into the lake. I'm goin'
to find out more some of these days,
ind then I'll tell you all about it Huh,
uummy?"
"Yes," muttered Edith, "but I'm getting
a guess out of the days I spent
>n this boat that God, or whoever
rou're talkin' about, ain't botherin' his
lead over the Dirty Mary, nor us
ither."
CHAPTER II.
The Master of the Dirty Mary.
A week before this story opens,
[Jriah Devon had steamed the length
>f the lake, anchoring his boat as near
fthaca as he dared. Even to his wife,
Edith, he had not confided why he had
irought her to a town where yawning
irison doors gaped for her every passng
hour.
"I won't go, Riah," Mrs. Devon had
;ried when her husband had made the
statement that he intended to visit
[thaca. "You couldn't get me near
:hat place with a rope around my
leek."
But the very fact that she now sat
>n a small bench against the boat rail,
gazing moodily at the water, proved
:hat Uriah Devon had contrived to
lave his way.
Occasionally Mrs. Devon lifted her
lead to listen and turned her eyes to
the west where a narrow path zigzagged
its length up the hill to the
boulevard, into ner tortured soui
iad come a belief since the night be'ore,
that Tony's "Gloriest God,"
.vould send her man home.
Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps
in the forest path brought her
sharply around. At last lie was comng.
this man she loved, perhaps
Irunk, perhaps to beat her; but nevertheless
lie was coming, and that was
til she cared about.
Uriah Devon slowly walked up the
ranvplank in silence.
"Where you been?" the woman
'orced herself to say. But instead of
eplving. be demandec .
"Where* Term: e!?'
"1 em Tie." " the answer. "A minite
ace she was ever there not ten 01'
. eiir :<!!'!:w from he?*e.
Ahm. i a> all ibis vceel ?"
I; * i a - 'hi., snree. she
i>.' had h'*en
trunk * . h hat .he had so,. t-.
thing unusual on his mind, she knew, f
and she knew, too, It was about Ton- I
nibel, for hadn't he asked for the kid
the moment he'd returned?
"It's about time we was doing
things, Ede," he said, turning grimly, i
"I've waited as long as I dared. Rege
says 'Paul Pendlehaven hasn't an inch
leeway before he's in his coffin.'"
Mrs. Devon's face grew deathly j
pale.
"What do you mean, honey?" she
faltered.
"We live like rats in a hole," took j
up the man, after a pause, "while if !
Tony was made to do her part, we'd ;
be on easy street. That's what I mean. I
We've got to have money and lots of j
It. Reggie's willing to marry the kid '
if you mind your business afterward.
- His marryin' her ain't sayin' he'll stick
i to her. But we got to have boodle,
! and wp on n't 2-pt it onlv through her." i
'| "He shan't have 'er," the woman
| said, with hard tones and flashing j
eyes. "How many times 've I got to !
say it over to you? If that's the why
you've come to Ithaca, you might as '
well turn the old scow north and go j
back again. He's a bum," she went
on. "A dude and a fool and everything
else that's bad. He's a thief,
too."
Devon laughed.
"So am I, Ede," said he. "So 're you'
for that matter. If Reggie knew that j
Tony was Paul Pendlehaven's kid, we :
wouldn't get one d n cent of her :
| money. He snitches from the Pendlej
havens and his mother because he
; don't get cash enough other ways. A ;
i feller's got to have spendin' money."
j "Pretty small pickin's," sneered
! Edith Devon. "Stealin' from folks al'
most in the grave ain't my style. Reg|
gie's some second-story man, that
| young duffer Is."
"You sneaked Paul's kid," taunted
! Devon. "He wouldn't be almost in
| his grave now If you'd kept your
] hands offn Tony."
| The woman turned on him savagely,
! paying no heed to his words.
"Get your blasted Reggie to steal
onrmorh fr>r n? oil frrvm thp Ppnrllphfl
j vens," she said. "God knows they've
| pot it and Jo spare. It's better'n !
: handin' Tony over to 'im. He lives at j
j Pendlehaven's, don't he?"
"He won't do it," cut In Devon. \
I "Reggie ain't got the nerve to burn his i
, fingers too deep. Paul Pendelhaven'd
1 send him up for that, If he caught j
him. My plan is to get Tony married j
I to Rege, and before the lid's screwed
1 down on Pendlehaven's face, shove j
i the girl in between John Pendlehaven
and his precious cousin, Reggie's
mother, and then Rege and me get&
s Tony's money, see?"
Edith shivered.
"I hear what you say," she mut- ,
tered, "and I 'spose I'll do it If you !
promise not to let that pup hurt Tony
when he gets her. . . . Best let's wait i
j another year before talkin' marriage
i to her, though."
"Nothin' doin'," rasped the man, !
! "Tony's almost a woman, and she's !
; eatin' her head off. After she's mar* !
ried?"
"You two men'll rag the kid to death j
or do something worse to her," grit- J
I ted the woman. "Well, you won't!
Rather'n have that I'll tell her she !
ain't ours. I'll go right bold to Paul .
! Pendlehaven and blurt him the truth.
I'll do it today if you keep naggin- at j
? f
me.
Devon studied her face, his own dis- :
torted with rage.
"You'll do no such a thing, mad
| woman," he returned, running his;
tongue over his dry, cracked lips. "If !
you get me in a temper you'd betterj
i look out. Reggie knows Tonnibel's
got rich folks, but he don't know who
they are. You spill the beans, by G?d,!
and the lake for yours."
S The woman's gaze sought the sheet
of blue water.
"She'll grow a beard a mile long bei
fore I tell 'er," she said finally, bringing
her eyes back to his face. "Tell
'er yourself, and see how you like it!"
There was a ring of revolt in hei
tones that brought an expression oi
surprise to the man's face, leaving it
angrily, frowningly red. But the
! sound of a girl's voice on the hill
brought him suddenly to his feet.
'"There she is, by G?d," he cried
! abruptly.. "Now if you want any more :
! lovin's from me?more'n that, if you
! want to stay where I live, you got to
do my will."
"Uriah, honey, darlin'," cried Edith,
"don't sav that I've always stuck by \
| you."
"Then keep a stickin'," growled De|
von. "For God's sake, tf the brat ain't'
lugged that pig clean up that pine i
tree!"
Above them a giant pine tree lifted
its head far above its fellows. Among
its branches the man and woman could
plainly see the upper half of a girl's
figure settled in the crotch of an outspreading
limb, and clasped in two
slender arms was the small guinea j
pig. She bobbed her head gravely, |
held up the animal and shook it at
them.
Tony, herself, little knew why in
times of strife she sought refuge;
among these forest giants and came I
always to happiness. They were ani-!
j mated beimrs in her mean little world'
j and because she had showered idola-1
| trous iuve on them they, from their j
j primeval grandeur, sent an answering '
; spark of life to her starved little soul.
t |
j The sight of Tony further enrageu;
I Uriah. lie waved her in.
"Now tell iu-r oViirejrlit, ami ;r?*t it
' over, r.de." he said, sitting down attain
Keai'i.inu the lar.ai hoat., Tony sto"<?
i looking at her parents.
' "Set t low tj." yr-iv. let I I>evoii.
ShilTiny the pit; Utile, she dree,
I down nil' i]:. Si:.- a i'\::\ j
e?i !h- ,-e vtth i:.-r :! . : .
mother. it v seal.-:
|r.(n' < . 'he: : ' i '
ilia \Yf>. ^ 1 !'e;::
her '"lie. he'!*.*'- : j-^eu ?: -t i;e
vera with his frowning brow, then at
length let her gaze settle on the woman.
"I s'pose I been doln' something
hellish," she ventured presently In a
low tone. "Have I, Edie?"
"Nope, not this time, Tony," thrust
in Devon. "But we've got to tell you
something. You're gettin' to be a woman,
Tonnibel, and you got to do something
for your mother and me."
"I'm always wantin' to do something
nice for you, Edie, darling," she said,
looking at her mother. "Yap it out
quick, sweet, and I'll jump to do it!"
The woman began to cry softly.
"Go on, Edie," said Uriah. "Why
in h?1 are you blubberin' over a
thing you can t help?"
"But I can help it," cried Edith.
"And what's more I will. Run away,
baby, and I'll have it out with your
pop while you're gone."
Devon reached forward and 'aid a
strong detaining hand on the girl's
arm.
"It's this," he got out between his
teeth. "You got to get married. You
been llvin' on me long enough."
The girl stared at him blankly.
"Get married," she repeated dully.
"Who'd marry a brat like me? I'm
nolhin' but a kid yet, and I'm goln' to
stay right here with my mother. See?
I don't have to?do I, mummy darlin'?"
"Ycur ma's word ain't law on this
boat," answered Uriah in an ugly
tone. "Mine is, though. Fire ahead,
Edie, and tell the kid my will."
Mrs. Devon coughed spasmodically
and toyed with the fabric of her skirt
A slender brown hand went up and
closed over her twitching fingers.
U1 nrnril^n'f mowTT onrr nf fhn milfto
x vTuuiuu t maiij auj ui uiv uiuvvu
you know, daddy," the girl burst out
in desperation. "So get that notion
clean out of your mind."
Her face settled sullenly into little
lines that pursed up the lovely young
mouth, and Uriah Devon moved his
feet nervously. Perhaps his task
wasfi't going to be ?asy after alL
"Kid," he said huskily, "if you don't
do what you're told, I'll make you.
You ain't too old to gad yet. And
you'll be missin' one of the best lickin's
you ever got if you mind what I
tell you."
The girl eyed him curiously, making
a sidewise gesture with her head.
"Who's the duffer you've chose out
for me?" she asked at length. "You
might as well tell me."
"My friend, Reggie," said Devon,
bending over and staring at her.
Tonnibel's mouth widened until two
rows of teeth gleamed through the red
of her lips. She made a wry face.
"Nothin' like that for me?eh, Edie?"
Edith Devon was coming to a resolu
"Go On and Finish Me."
blazing info ln's, Jut little fists j
clem-hed together.
{ '(.Iks that iiPrv?** ''flier people. I
i'apt.v I>evor?," >!." shot ha<*k, "aei
it.
str *i ??? I in a eh.tir, and ihe\ tret J
! . i i' !>!;:' a;i. i iironah 'em. (Jo on and !
!'!!'? ' '? ( :, :i r i < i -' !>? r- i * .'tit' J J'o :
nither !"i\. '(. !! i:;d mo than snake me
uatrrj iliai >'u Ilmririe.*
tlon that meant trouble for herself and
for Tonnibel.
"I ain't fought it all out with your
daddy, kid," she sniffled weakly. "You
get to the cabin and mend them old
clothes."
Uriah Devon laid his pipe beside
him and uttered an oath.
"You'll stay, right here, brat," he
gritted, "and pay heed to me."
"Uriah," screamed the woman, "if
you go on with this, I'll tell 'er all I
know. I swear I will Tony, honey,
Tony, baby, I?I ain't?"
With a roar the man sprang forward
and In his effort to reach his wife
knocked the girl flat on the deck.
When Tonnibel rolled over and sat up,
her mother was stretched along the
boat rail, and Devon was standing
over her. She lay so dreadfully still
and limp that the girl scrambled to
her feet.
It wasn't the same Tony who had
come fearfully to them but a short
period before with the little pig in her
arms; nor the same girl who had
swung in the treetops making play
fellows of the squirrels and answering
the shrill calls of the forest birds. She
seemed -suddenly to have grown taller,
and as she flung herself on Devon, the
very strength of her little body sent
him sprawling against the side of the
cabin. "Now you killed her, d?n
you," she screamed. "If you kick 'er
?I'll?I'll?" She dropped at the side
of her mother, her threat broken in
two by the awful pallor on the woman's
face. "Oh, God, mummy darlin',
mummy darlin'," she ended in a bitter
cry.
Growling in rage, Devon turned on
her.
"Mebbe I have killed 'er," said he.
"If so, I'll make a good job of It and
finish you too."
The girl rose before him, her eyes
W?
As If his name had brought him out
of the forest, Reginald Brown walked
down the Hoghole path. '
CHAPTER III. I
The Picture of a Baby.
Tonnibel's heart Jumped almost Into
her throat, then seemed to cease beating.
There stood her father growling,
enraged and drunk, and as if she wef*e
dead and no longer able to help her
child, her mother lay almost within
touching distance. If Uriah carried
out his plans, then the horrid fellow
there would soon claim her as his
woman. That thought frightened her
so that she stepped back as the newcomer
came upon the deck.
"What's the matter, Ry?" he asked
quite casually.
"He's killed mummy," burst forth
the girl. "And if both you fellers don't
want to get pinched, you'd better
scoot offen this boat"
Uriah laughed, and Reggie's highpitched
cackle followed.
"Been giving your woman a little
discipline, eh, pal?" he demanded,
turning on Devon. "Well, they all
need it now and then. But she's the
liveliest breathing corpse I ever saw.
Did you hit 'er, Dev?"
"Yep," growled the other man, "and
I'm goin' to beat Tony, too. The Impudent
brat says she wouldn't marry
you if you was the last man llvin'.
You watch the brat there, Rege, while
I duck Ede in the cabin."
Tonnibel, wide-eyed and suffering,
saw her father lift her mother up in
i his brawny arms and carry her down|
stairst none too gently. When he had
disappeared, a throat sound made her
swing her eyes to the other man. He
was contemplating her with a smile,
an evil smile, such as she hated In
| mem His white teeth seemed like
' many gleaming knives, sharp, strong *
and overhanging, his red lips spreading
away from them.
He took a step toward her and
stopped.
"Why so much fuss about nothing,
my little one?" he said, cooing.
"Daddy said I had to marry you,"
breathed the girl, brushing back a
stray curl from her brow. "But I
! don't! I'm goin' to stay with my
i mother on the Dirty Mary. There
ain't no law forcing a girl to marry a
i man she don't like. And I hate you, .
see? Huh?'
"Who spoke of a law?' smiled
Brown. "I didn't! But I do know, my
j little Tony-girl, that you'll say a very
meek 4yes' when I get through with
i you."
| Tonnibel suddenly shuddered and a
hopeless, helpless feeling went In
, waves over her. Oh, to be anywhere
in God's clear, clean world! Away
from those gleaming lustful eyes! But !
she saw no opportunity to escape.
Reginald Brown was blocking the
small space through which she must
- fly if she were to be saved at all. She ,
knew very well if she could hide for
a little while the two men would drink
until they slept Then she could come
back and help her mother. Plainly
: she had heard the woman weeping be- '
low in the cabin, and even more plainly
to her suffering ears came Devon's
blows, and after that?silence.
Her heart thumped like a hammer
against her side. Behind her lay the
shining lake. And one hasty -glance
over her shoulder oDly added to her
fear. There was not a sign of a boat
anywhere. She was frantic enough to
i scream if it would have done her any
! good.
| "I think HI kiss you, my little bird,"
said Reggie, suddenly, narrowing his
eyes. "You're pretty enough for any\
one to want to kiss. By Jove, I never
j realized until today just how much I
. liked you. If I kissed you, well?perhaps
you'd change your mind about?/
; about things."
Tonnibel slid backward to the boat
i rail. When she touched it, she whirled
about and dove headlong Into the lake.
When Reginald Brown saw the girl's
feet disappear under the water, he uttered
an oath and cried out. He hadn't
| expected such an action on her part
! He ran to the cabin steps and
i screamed to Devon.
"She's in the lake, Ry," he shivered
as the other man sprang to the deck.
When Tonnibel felt the water over
! her, she swept to the lake's bottom
with one long stroke. Then deftly she
i rid herself of her dress skirt and began
to swim swiftly under the wTater.
They were tense minutes that the
two men stood waiting, until suddenly
beyond them to the south a curly head
came above the water's edge. Then
they leapt to the shore and raced to|
? rd the place she must land. To
t_ j panting girl It was a race for life.
Suddenly, like a flashing glimpse
from Heaven, the words, "Stand Stall
and See the Salvation of the Lord,"
floated before her eyes like a flame of
gold. Philip MacCauley's deep voice
seemed fo speak them in her ringing
ears immediately after. "Goddy," she
groaned. "Salvation of the Lord, oh,
I darlin' Salvation."
Just then her feet touched the pebhloc
on tho hnttom of fhp lake. With
one wild leap she was on the shore
I and up the bank, tTriah screaming at
her to stop.
She heard the two men crashing
after her. That her short, swift leaps
could outdistance them for long if she
tried for the boulevard, she had no
hope. But all about ner were giant
friends with outstretched arms, offering
her shelter. For one instant she
paused, then sprang into the air,
caught the lower branch of a great
pine tree and like a squirrel scurried
up it. Almost at the top, spanned over
by the blue <ky, she crawled out to
the end "f a leg limb and clung to it. 3
Beneath her the men paused and
shnmeti /ir-'-s up at her. Toambo!
ear* *' Ming for curves. She'd heard
r<v-M. i' dfe. used them, too, when
cne teh dke it.
0
. . /..?
.. Jim