Adventure, June 1911 — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

228 carrying last trip?” he encouraged her one morning as he aided her in the culinary task of peeling potatoes. “Lobsters,” answered Polly demurely, tossing a denuded Murphy into a capacious sauce-pan. Jake looked at her with baby eyes. “‘How very interesting!” he said. “Yes,” said Polly, “it was a great sight to look down in the hold and see them fighting, millions and millions of them.” “Tt must have been,” Jake replied with conviction. oh fe Polly went on with growing en- -thusiasm, ‘‘ and one night they er — muti- nied.” ““Mutinied?”’ gasped Jake. “Um,” said Polly. “They all came clam- bering up on deck and we barred ourselves in the cabin and drove them back at the point of our pistols!” “Gee!” exclaimed Jake. Polly sighed. ‘‘The trip before that wasn’t very romantic,’’ she said. “No?” queried Jake. “No,” said Polly. ‘‘We had on board a hundred thousand hogsheads of flour. It took us girls two days to get it on board.” “Gracious, how do you do such hard work and keep your hands so nice and soft?” | “Oh,” said Polly, ‘we always wear our gloves when we’re handling hogsheads, of course!” “Of course; how stupid of me!”’ said Jake. Elaine’s appearance in the cabin stopped the flow of Polly’s eloquence and Jake re- treated to his room. From the little port of that apartment strange, muffled sounds issued, and the skipper of the barge along- side, peering through, saw a short man try- ing to swallow a feather pillow and making a terrible pother about it. Ge LHE flotilla halted at Albany, and Ziv) next afternoon, just as they were about to resume the journey, the crew of the grain-barge were startled by the wild croak of a horn and the roar of an un- muffled six-cylinder. tore down the dock and pulled up with a creaking of protesting brakes at the barge’s side. Out of the tonneau jumped a ruddy, spectacled old gentleman with streaming gray sidewhiskers. With surprising agility he leaped over the string-piece and landed upon the deck. A big touring-car | Adventure “Dad!” gasped Harold, in blank amaze- ment. ‘Hello, you obstinate young scamp!” his father saluted. ‘I knew you’d knuckle under to the old man—they all do when he puts his foot down, you bet your life! But _how did you get him on the barge, Edie?” _ Elaine looked up, her face crimson and her hand reaching out in. appeal toward Harold. Instead of answering the old gen- tleman she spoke to his son. “There isn’t any Elaine, Harold,” said. “I’m Edith Barnes.” Harold looked at her with dazed eyes. “Arid all this——”’ he said, looking around at the barge. “Why, it’s simple enough,” she answered. “This barge belongs to your father and mine. Richie and Nell and Polly and I were tired of town and .thought a canal- boat trip would be a delightful lark. Dick had the boat altered a little and furnished, and. we were just starting on our trip when you came on board, rather unceremoniously. When I heard your name it occurred to me that it would be a splendid chance to find out what kind of chap father had picked out for me—you will forgive me for fooling you, won’t you; Harold?”’ “Forgive you, dear girl! Why it’s been fine! But—but how did you know about it, father?” The elder Armitage plunged his hand into his breast pocket and drew forth a telegraphic dispatch. “How did I know about it?” he cried, thrusting the paper into Harold’s hand. “‘Didn’t you send me this?” With their heads together Harold and Elaine read: she You win. I have just become engaged to Edith Barnes. Bat the corpulent calf on the brow and chase me a check. — HAROLD. “‘T was so—so—so dingbusted glad that I hustled up on a special myself, just to see if it was true!” exploded Mr. Armitage. But Edith had turned an accusing eye upon Jake. He threw up his hands. “Guilty!” he confessed. “I thought the old guy might be worried, and what was the use keeping him on the griddle? = ‘“‘But how did you know? Did Polly—? ” ‘“‘Don’t pass it up to Polly! She’s been having the time of her life kidding me, haven’t you, Polly? As for the engagement — part, why, Harold has been: murmuring .CORDICLOOOLKS CO