Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

THE SOUL OF After breakfast as he started for the store, he kissed her good-by with extraord- inary enthusiasm. “If its a good night to-night I’ve a sur- prise for you,” he said mysteriously. With which cryptic remark he turned abruptly and left the house. The weather was perfect that evening— ‘a full moon in a cloudless sky, and only a gentle breeze. — Refusing explanation, Henry led his wondering wife immediately after supper. directly to the public boat-house at the lower end of the lake, hardly more than a mile from their home. “TI took the morning off,’ was all he would say. “I bought something for you as a surprise.”’ - Into the boat-house he took her, expec- tant and thrilled, and there he proudly dis- played a tiny green-painted canoe, lying upon a little platform that sloped down into ‘the water. : ‘‘ For you, Martha,” he said. .“‘ I bought it for you to-day.” ““Oh, Henry, a canoe for us!” “YT bought it for you— this morning. Don’t you see, Martha—that’s what I’ve been doing all these weeks — learning to canoe so I can take you out.” “Qh, Henry—dear!” Martha put her hand timidly upon his arm. l2 THIS IS THE HENRY JONES. D49 ‘I’m an expert canoeist, now, Martha— you'll see.” : In the dimness of the boat-house he put a sturdy arm about her waist; he could feel she was trembling. “Tl take you out now,” he went on. ‘“'Wait—I’ve got some cushions.” | He was back in an instant with his arms full of pillows, which he tossed carelessly into the canoe with the paddles. Then with ostentatious skill he slid it down into the water, and tenderly placed his silent, trembling little wife in the bottom upon the cushions, so that she would be at his feet as he sat in its stern. Out upon the lake he paddled with lusty strokes, straight into the shining ribbon of moonlight. Martha lay quiet, gazing up at him as he silently bent to his work. Music floated to them over the water. Another canoe passed, with a boy and girl in it—a girl who reclined in the bottom playing a guitar. Henry—with a great consciousness of equality — waved +o them in friendly greeting. | | Then all at once he shipped his paddle and leaned down to his wife, letting the canoe slip forward unguided. Her eyes were wet and shining; her hand stole up- ward to meet his. “Life and—and everything is wonder- ful, isn’t it, dear?” said Henry Jones. nd ALL-STORY WEEKLY SERIAL TO i— BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK FORM. THE FUR BRINGERS _, BY T FOOTNER "Author of ‘‘ The Substitute Millioneire,”’ “' Thieves’ Wit,” “The Sealed Valley,” “ Jack Chanty,”’ ete. THose who have read Mr. Footner’s Canadian Northwest stories, “The Huntress,” for instance, or “ Jack Chanty@ or “ The Sealed Valley,” know that master as he undoubtedly is of other settings, in this one he excels. He has studied his people; lived with them; he knows them; wnderstands them. More than that, he makes you know and understand them. And they are worth knowing, too, the big, strong-hcarted, virile men and women of the great Northwest. Ambrose Doane, the hero of this story, is a free-trader, hated by the agents of the monopoly—the Northwest Fur Company—because his honest dealing interferes with their exploitation of the Ineians and half-breed trappers. How one by one, enmeshed in a cunningly woven web of circumstances, Ambrose is involved in a half-dozen crimes and disgraceful acts; how Colona, alone save an Indian servant, takes the trail seeking in the wild heart of the Northwest forests and the wilder camps of hostile Indians, evidence that shall vindicate the man who, theugh reason tells her he is guilty, love and instinct refuse to believe unworthy—all this makes a story of unusual power and compelling interest. (AQNstory- Cavalier, April 4, to 24, 1975.) Published in book form by James A. McCann Co., 1920. Price $1.90 net. COMIC OOS YN (CO ww