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Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co. .
THE STORY
From his French-Canadian
mother, Norman Erickson in
herits a distaste for life on the
water, which is beyond the un
derstanding of his father, Gustaf,
veteran deep-water sailor. At
Mrs. Erickson's death Gustaf de
termines te make Norman, who
has been working for a grocer,
his partner {n his fishing boat, at
once. In rebellious mood, Nor
man seeks comfort from Julie
Richaud, French-Canadian play
mate of his school days. Gustaf,
going to the aid of a drowning
friend is crippled. After months,
Gustaf is in a measure able to re
sume his occupation, Ed. Baker,
young fisherman, Norman’s life
long enemy, fans ill feeling be
tween father and son, and Nor
man determines to seek employ~
ment in the lighthouse service.
Norman goes to Blind Man’s Eye,
Captain Stocking is in command,
living with his daughter, Susan.
While filling a lamp with kero
sene Susan sets fire to her skirts,
She is saved from serious injury
by Norman, who s painfully in
jured. On his day off duty Nor
man visits Julie Richaud. From
the Jighthouse Norman sees a
boat on the reefs, Making his
way through the surf to the
wreck, he is struck by the body
of a dead dog. Gustaf Erickson
had been fond of telling a ghast
ly story of a sea disaster in
which a dead dog figured, and
Norman, as a child, had listened
to it in terror. The dog recalls
the story and unnerves him. He
abandons his idea of rescue, Cap
tain Stocking sets out in a boat
for the wreck, sending Norman
to the coast guard station for
help. Captain Parish, of the
guard, launches a boat, ordering
Norman te go with the crew, He
is unable to get aboard. Stock
ng brings a man ashore from
the wreck. Captain Parish ac
cuses. Norman of cowardice.
James Delong, the man rescued,
ie a “gentleman farmer.” Nor
man detects Baker in the act of
burying a packet which Delong
had iropped, He digs it up and
keeps it
- CHAPTER VI !
b i
The Oilskin Packet
Captain Stocking scuffed up the
walk. Norman stepped aside to let
him pass. The keeper did not want
to pass. He wanted to talk.
“Where jou been?’ he asked.
“Walking.”
“Lookie here, Erickson!” Captain
Stocking knocked out his pipe, the
petter to make plain his words. “I
ain’t forgot what you said in the
signal house. 1 ain’t likely to forget.
And | expects you to remember what
1 told you! There's two or three kinds
of things to scare folks. And when
you've lived as long as | have ashore
and afloat, you'll find there's lots o
things ain't to be explained. And the
Kitty K. is cne of them, Erlckson.
She ain’t never been explained. Some
night you’ll see her, mark me, Ain’t
a seaman on this point ain’t seen her.
Ask Parish, down at the coast guard.
He made out the skipper one night
« « . he's got a long whisker and sits
on the fluke of an old schooner, hol
lerin’ a chantey. . . .”
“Rats and dogfish!”
“Aye, and ye can rats me to the
eontent of ye! I've seen things, lad,
that'd put fcleles on your nose If ye
had wits enmmagh to understand ‘em.
And I know when they's a spell on a
place or a man or a vessel. And I've
no mind to go runnin’ down a haunt
or mixin’ my fingers in the devil's
business. But there's one thing sure!™
“What?" asked Norman,
“Listen, lad.” The keeper's volce
was grave, “I pever run from a bit
of a blow In my life, so help me! |
never run from water nor wind nor
dogs, and | never stayed ashore when
they was askin’ for volunteers to go
out to a distress! Parish needed
bands tonight. You couldn’t jump In
the boat. Lor' knows why. You can
make a funny mouth about the Kity
K., it it's no more sense than you got.
But remember, I will write my re
port. Captain Parish will have a
story, too, which ain't goin’ to be
pretty. And you an assistant keep
er! Go In the house. Get a bit of
rest. Be set to relleve me.”
*l'm set now,” Norman growled,
He could feel no sting from the
keeper's rebuke, Nothing old Stock
ing sald mattered much, He bad called
himself just as many kinds of fool as
Stocking could, He had not been
nfrald to go In the bont, The devilish
lake prevented it. But he had been
a coward earlier, Yes, about that dog!
Out there In the rain he had de
nounced himself, What more could
unyone else say?
He walked gloomily Into the house.
Ed 4 Baker stood again In the parlor,
explaining to Sue that he had stopped
on his way off beach patrol,
“And | watched close,” he told De
long, “but 1 didn’t see a sign of your
package., [ told my rellef to keep his
eye pecled. Not much chance though,
w.l
Norman, lingering in the corridor,
felt the soft wet pack in his pocket.
“Is it worth a good deal?” Baker
asked.
The stranger coughed.
“No,” he sald, “it is worth a great
deal to me, but to nobody else. I'd
be willing to pay a good reward for
it. Of course, it may still be in the
yacht. But I swear I had it In my
hand when 1 tumbled into that skiff.”
Norman walked in calmly. Sut
ton dozed in the captain’s chair.
Sue, looking sleepy, lifted her eyes to
Norman’s face and without recogni
tion lowered them again. Conversa
tion stopped automatically.
Mr. Delong was the first one to
speak.
“Hello, young fellow,” Le sald.
“Hello,” Norman answered. His
face relaxed. It was pleasant to have
one man on the coast speak to him
without scorn.
Delong smiled at him, and then,
one at a time, he examined the faces
of the others, as if setting himself
right about them.
“You live here at the Hght?” he
asked Sutton.
“No, I don't.”” The fisherman looked
up in surprise, trying to see what
meaning there was in the question,
He perceived it, and started home.
Baker went out with Suiton.
Sue spoke.
“Your bed is ready, Mr. Delong,”
she explained, “through that door, on
the assistant keeper’s side.” She did
not look at Norman. “Or sit up here
if you wish. This oil wHI last all
night. There’s an extra blanket right
behind you.”
“Thanks. Il read something.”
Delong picked up the government
report on lighthouses and, turning his
back to the lamp, began to read. Nor
man sat down wearily in Captain
Stocking's big rocker and closed his
eyes. :
Captain Stocking strode through the
‘outer door in five minutes.
“Turning in,” he said shortly to
Norman. Then he saw Delong. *“Oh,
mister, there’s a bed fixed up for you.”
“r'd rather sit up, Captain.”
“Be your own skipper,” Stocking
agreed. “A good night to ye.”
Norman limped out to do his inspec
tion. Down on the plank walk he
stopped and felt the packet that was
lying like a lump against him. The
night’'s terrible business seemed an
old tale except for this, What would
he do with 1t?
Again he considered possibilities.
He might tell the truth. He put that
thought away at once, as an ordeal
which would only stir up more trouble.
He could drop the bundle in the hall.
And ceed then answer his own share
in the hubbub of questions. Only one
thing was certain, He didn't want
anyone to catch him with it in his
pocket.
Up the beach, perhaps two hundred
paces, his left foot lifted, Lead down,
arms at his sides, in the attitude of a
man running, but carved out in mo
tionless relief against the black sur
face of the water, Norman saw Ed
Baker. He heard Baker's feet slap
the sand as he ran past. He did not
stop. Norman puzzled, and then, real
izing where Baker was going, laughed
aloud. Baker would find a cold sur
prise, digging under that log for the
packet. He went into the house.
The stranger was not reading. He
sat by the brass parlor lamp, sucking
thoughtfully at an unlighted pipe,
“Here's a thing 1 found up the
beach. Might this be yours?' Nor
man removed the packet from his uni.
form coat. “This what you were want
ing?” he repeated.
The man made no angwer at first,
His eyes were glued to the bundle.
It was a plain, businesslike envelope
of ollskin, fastened with red twine and
one tubber band, with the Initials
“J. D-"
“Well, I'll be hanged!” he sald ab
ruptly. “Where'd you get it?”
“Guess It washed ashore,” Norman
answered, “up the beach.,”
The other took it. He examined the
red strings carefully and asked the
assistant keeper for a kunife, Upon
the parlor table, after he had cut the
red strings, he poured out a stream of
coarse, dry, beach sand.
“Sand,” he murmured.
He opened the envelope slowly.
More sand spilled out. He frowned
when he saw it. The papers were
roggy but the sand was dry, He
picked them up carefully, each by a
corner, and started to spread them
upon the pollshed surface of the oak
table, One of them he examined close.
ly. It had laln on top. Near its up
per edge there was the round, smudgy
mark of a finger or thumb,
He turned swiftly,
“You don’t look ke a llar,” he
warned Norman, *“1 should know one
when | see him, That's part of my
Job, telling liars from honest men,
You didn't find thls ‘Just up the
beach.' DBesides, It's been opened
Sure, 1t has . s . there's a finger
mark of some kind, looks olly. And
the string was in a bard knot. I didn’t
have it tied that way. I had a bow
knot. Somebody undid it, and tied It
up again. This bundie was buried
after it rolled ashore. Why?"
“I don't know,” Norman muttered.
“You admit that it was?' Delong
swung his big body about in nis chair
and tipped the lamp shade so that the
light fell on Norman's face. “This is
funny business,” he sald. Would the
same person hide a thing one minute,
and the next dig it up and bring it
to its owner?"
“The same person didn't."
“Oh,” said Delong. He smiled.
“That’s what 1 . hought, Erickson.
Who buried it?”
“It was oapk, oo N
“Who buried it?"
“I tel’ you, sir, it was too dark to
see. | was walking, sir, trying to
cool off , . .” Norman paused. He
felt Delong’s eyes burning into his
own. They were hard but not unkind
ly. He liked this man, *“I saw a fel
low stoop down and bury something,”
he confessed, “I hid till . . ~ till
his relief come along . . .” he caught
himself . . . “till he went away,”
he corrected, “then 1 dug it up.”
“Wait a minute. Get that straight.
You said his reliet. That means he
was in the coast guard.”
Norman flushed. This man was too
quick for him. He twisted thoughts
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“Needn’t Call Him a D—n Dog, Erick
son.”
right out of one’s head, made them
into words, asked Questions one
couldn’t crawl around.
“Are you a lawyer?' he asked
bluntly.
Delong laughed. The muscles of his
face relaxed. “Yes,” he admitted.
“Then 1 guess you're just what I
need!”
“l believe you're telling the truth,”
the other said, “only not all of it,
But you don’t need a lawyer. All you
need is a little cool thinking.”
“Think cool? In this pack of porcu
pines?”
Delong shook his head good hu
moredly.
“What's been the matter with you
tonight? Frightened?”
“Not exactly . . . yes, gure |
was, scared half to death. . . .”
“1 was, too. Out on that reef, with
the boat sinking under me? Of
course 1 was! Who wouldn't be? |
had no idea where 1 was, a mile from
shore or ten miles, I had a right to
be afrald.”
Norman caught at the word.
“A right to be?” he demanded.
“Certainly. All men have a right to
be afraid. Don't let anybody tell you
any different Only a fool Isn't afrald
under some circumstances. It's how
you act that counts, how you act when
you're so scared you think you can't
take another breath.”
Norman stared at him., Bravery
and cowardice never had been pre
sented to him as such Involved affairs.
First Door Knockers Utilized as Weapons,
The decorative quality of door
knockers has been gaining in recognl:
tion and is now held o poular favor,
says o writer in Your Home Maga
zine,
“Door knockers,” reads Your Home,
“were little known In the obscure
reaches of anclent history, and their
development from articles of mere
utility to objects of art hus covered
centuries. The Greeks ponlldarod it
a breach of etiquette to enter a house
without warning the Inmates, Spar
tans gave this notice by shouting thelr
arrival, but the Athenlans announced
themselves by using the knocker,
which Introduction was doubtless
made at the time when doors super
seded hangings for purposes of great
er privacy or safety. First It con
gisted of a rodlike plece of Iron
chalned to the door, but unfriendly
Optimists and Pessimists
Optimists and pessimists have each
thelr uses. We know how often the
minor difficulties of life may be de
seated by mere cheerfulness, But when
the difficulty is big, a bigger effort s
needed; you have to get down to
causes and effects, nnd recognize what
Is wrong before starting to cure It
Nothing is more foollsh than to shirk
swallowing an unpleasant medicine,
becnuse two or three triffing nnd sy
perficlal symptoms seem for a o
ment 0 belle your disease,
CHARLTON COUNTY HERALD
It had not occurred to him that a man
could be afraid without being a cow
ard. Even now, with hope rising
quickly within him, he only half be
lieved it.
“It was your d—d dog . . " he
began brokenly,
“My dog?" Delong leaned forward.
“Needn't call him a d--d dog, Erick
son, He was pretty much all right,
Why are you scared of dogs?”
“I'm not! Not of Mve ones « . .
it's a dead dog in the water . . .
oh, [ can't explain it. It made me
ik ~ O
“Of what?" ;
“Of a story.”
“Oh!" Delong’s volce held a touch
of triumph, *“A story?” he repeated.
For half an hour the assistant keep:
er talked. Now and then Delong in
terrupted with a word, a question or
a quick exclamation, Norman told
of his big, sea-loving father and his
little French mother, of the schooner
Gottland and the captain's dog. He
told it word for word as he had heard
his father tell it; he omitted noth
ing, no period, no inflection, no oath,
not even Gustaf’s bitter laugh. He
slipped without reallzing Into his fa
ther's odd minor singsong, which gave
the tale its appalling quality. When
he had done Delong was silent a full
minute.
“l know,” he admitted finally, *I
know exactly how that dog affected
you, I saw a man hanged once when
1 was a law student. [t was years
before I could look at a knotted rope.
Tell me what happened next, at Mad
rid, up at your home.”
Norman possessed a warm sense
that this red-haired stranger was sym
pathetic to him. You could talk to a
man like this. He knew how to take
what you said. He knew exactly what
you were thinking, Another hour
Norman talked. He told of his fa
ther's pride in the name Erickson, of
his unreasoning shame in Norman's
wagon job, how Gustat called him
“a-feared,” and “no son to me"”; how
Gustaf, at length, had driven him out.
He concluded by saying:
“Baker called me a yellow-bellled
pickerel after the boat got off tonight.
I don’t know, maybe that’'s what I
am, I can’t get it worked out right
in my head.”
Delong reached for a cigarette. He
lighted it, then holding the match,
stared at the flame until it burned his
fingers.
“l wonder,” he sald at last, “If
there's a man alive with steady
enough nerves not to be afraid at
some time or other. Take the way |
was tonight out there on the reef.
Scared? Lord, 1 was scared! No
body along but my dog . . . My
crew deserted.” He smiled. “He was
a fellow named Mulligan, 1 picked
him up at Grand Haven, All he want
ed was a trip to Manistee, I guess.
At least he left me there. I came on
alone,” :
“You haven't much sallor sense,”
Norman told him with conviction,
“Nobody goes out much alone, not for
long trips, that is, Not even my fa
ther, And he's a storm sense, too,
knows when it's coming.”
“So has my brother,” the Ilawyer
said. Norman caught pride ip his
tone. He felt Delong was purpeeely
changing the subject. He fen in
with it
“Your brother a sallor?”
“A farmer. Frult farmer., His
pame s Fritz We own an orchard
in the hills,”
The assistant keeper started. Fritz
was the name he had heard Germalne
growl about. So this was the same
Delong! He was disappointed to find
it out. He had hoped this friendly
man was not of that family, He
seemed to have too much sense to
have built that great lake up there in
the hills . . . why, it was a quarter
as large as Ottawa! Any fool In the
peninsula knew it couldn't last, Those
dikes the Delongs had built , , .
more than half sand . . . they'dgive
way some hard rain and there'd be a
flood wiping out the bottoms,
“Was It you dammed the Tama
rack?” he asked-bluntly,
The other nodded.
“My brother Fritz and I. He came
visitors sometimes wrenched it from
the door and used it as a weapon of
offense against the Inmates, It was
then that the form was changed to
that of a heavy ring fastened by a
strong clamp or plate to the door, thus
serving the double purpose of knock
er and handle. From Greece the cus
tom was transmitted to the Romans
and through thelr conquests to nearly
every country of Europe, It was not
{ong before they were very much elab
orated, beveled, chased and designed
in many varlations, of which repro
duetions may be found for the door
that would be Interesting today."”
Find Inscribed Tablets
Twelve thousand Inseribed tablets,
found recently In an unearthed tem.
ple In enstern Arabia by the Bagdad
School of Orlental Research, prove
thut there was a reading publie 45
centuries ngo, According to Hajl Rik.
kau In the Marsh Arab, Inscribed
bricks bearing the names of Nebu.
chadnezzar and Urnam-mu are still
picked up In the Irnq sectlon of
Arabla, and are so common In places
that they pave many a courtyard in
the houses of lower Iraq today.—
Washington Post,
Improved
Teacher—" Now, don't you think
sour daughter's voles Is Improved?”
Father—*"Yes, but llt's pot cured,” -
Vancouver JFrovince
up here first. Doctors sent him to the
country, He got the idea for the lake.
It's what makes our place valuable
now.” 7
“It's the .lake that's going to bust
through some day and drown a lot
of people.”
“Break through our dam?” De
long's laugh sounded out of place in
the middle of the night in the light
house parlor,
Norman shooked his head uncer
tainly.
“If that dam ever gives, there's go
ing to be a lot of drowned cows and
hen-coops afloating down the valley.
Everybody knows that back on the
Tamarack., The river's just a trickle
now In dry weather, just a trickle
coming over your spillway. If it ever
lets loose aJI at once, it'll be catas
trophe, folks say.”
“They're Wiong. It's safe as a mud
puddle! I'm going to bulld a house
up there, some day.”
Norman listened to him critically.
The lawyer seemed sure of himself,
“l hope you're right, sir,” he said.
“There's fine folks in the valley down
below, Good friends of mine.” He
looked at the clock.
“Time for Inspection,” he exclaimed,
putting on his shoes., He stood up
awkwardly. . “Thanks, sir,” he said,
“thanks for listening to me.”
He slid out into the raln to make
his patrol, This night's business
would start a nice smoke up In the
hills. And In Madrid Bay. His fa
ther was right about his not coming
to Madrid now. But he'd return some
time; when he could return un
ashamed. That might be a long time,
but he'd go, if Delong was right. He
liked this stranger; something about
the fellow made him feel like a man,
He stoked and banked the fire that
still smoldered under the boilers in
the signal house, tested the water and
steam gages, and climbed to the top
of the tower. A new fog was creep
ing down across the water, Thick
weather. The shore might be In for
a siege of it.
Norman returned to the house. Cap
tain Stocking was waliting in the par
lor, his boots under hig arm, bis cold
pipe in hig teeth, and a scowl on his
fat sleepy face. He looked at h's as
sistant suspiclously, His mannor ir
ritated Norman, He guessed th#t De
long had told him of the packet,
“Where you find this man's bun
dlg?” Stocking asked abruptly.
“Up the beach.”
“That's a wide latitude. Come,
where you find 1t?”
“‘He's explained that to me satisfac
torily,” Delong Interrupteds “It
washed ashore, Erickson found It, and
brought it in. Oh, it's mine, all
RIgHE . . . B 8 L B
Captain Stocking put on his glasses.
- “What's that stand for?” he In-
Lqulred.
| “James Delong.”
, 'l‘hkclptl,ln was looking at the pa
im the table. “Your pac¢Ret open
when you got it?” he demanded.
“No,” Delong answered.
“Been opened?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Was? How you know thst?”
“I've told you all that's necessary,”
Delong sald, “but if you want to know
~more . . .” he reached to the table
and picked up the document with the
smudgy mark on Its corner. “There's
proof, sir. See that smudge? Olly.
This paper was handled by some one
who had oil on his hands recently . . .
paper's damp or it would have made
an excellent finger-print. . . .”
“You, Erickson? You have 01l on
your hands?”
“Erickson didn’t open it.”
“How you know? Erickson, let's
see your hands!”
“Come, come, Captaln Stockingl”
Delong chided.
Norman stared at the keeper stub
bornly; then put his hands into his
- pockets,
“They're clean,” he eald quletly,
“you couldn't tell anything by my
hands. Might have been olly. Prob
} ably were. I washed them Jjust a little
- while ago . .. lots of men here on
this point get 01l on their hands . . "
“Who?" the keeper took off his
glasses excitedly. “Who, I ask ye?”
“Why, you yourself, Captain” De
long suid. “Here . . . walt a min
ute, | wouldn't get se upset! I know
It wasn't you. [ judge there are sev
eral other men around here who ban
dle engines, . . .
“Engines? You say engines?” The
keeper sat down thoughtfully, “En
gines,” he repeated. “Well, well , , )"
He turned on Norman; “time for my
watch?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Norman answered, “but
I can stand It."
“Go do It,” Captaln Stocking bade,
“call me afore sunup. And don't come
bustin’ back in here, Erickson. [ want
to talk a few minutes with this fel
low.”
Norman retreated. Captain Stock
ing walted by the window until his as
gistant had run down the walk, He
shook his head once, Then he rubbed
’ his glasses savagely.
. “Guess you feel fit to talk sense
now, mister, and I expects an answer,
all shipshape and proper, What'd you
have in this bundle?”’
“Deeds. | own a share In a farm
up In the bills, There have been titles
under litigation, 1 just had the pa
pers stealghtened up.”
“No money?"
“In that envelope? No!”
“Krickson dGldn't take nothin' out'n
i
“I'hat boy? Oh, nol That's all set
tled, Captain, He's explained the
whole thing to my Hking."”
“Aln't explained It to mine! Who
got that dirty mark on that paper?
Where'a Erickson have that packet?
Why didn’t he bring it In afore, whes
we nll was talkin' about 1t?"
“IHe didn’t say, Captain Stocklag”
(T 0 BE CONTINURD,)
R; J ”
DR A TR
} N sihe R
o A
L o
When your
Children Cry
Castoria is a comfort when Baby is
fretful. No sooner taken than the little
one Is at ease, If restless, a few drops
soon bring contentment, No harm done,
for Castoria 13 a baby remedy, meant
for babies. Perfectly safe to give the
iyoungest infant; you have the doctors’
iword for that! It is a vegetable pro
‘duct and you could use it every day,
But it's In an emergency that Castoria
means most, Some night when consti
pation must be relieved—or colic pains
=or other suffering, Never be without
it; some mothers keep an extra bottle,
unopened, to make sure there will al
ways be Castoria in the house. It is
effective for older chlldren, too; read
the book that comes with i,
- FlAcheAd
CASTORIA
Grove’s .
Tasteless
Chill Tonic
Destroys Malarial Germs in the
Blood. Removes the Impurities,
Restores Health and Energy
and makes the Cheeks Rosy.
It fortifies the system against
Malaria and Chills. 60c.
For Caked Udder and Sore Teals in Cows
b dorytioby gy
Money back for first bottle if not suited, All des
S ———————————————
A Plausible Excuse
The YXxchange Manager—Yoa'r\
late this morning.
Carrie Coma, the Telephone Op
erator—Yes, 1 overslept. Y'see, I was
dreamin’ a guy was tryin’ to get a
number off'n me and I just couldn't
wake up. ;
i Highest Helpfulness 4
Who helps a child helps humandty
with a distinctness, with an immedi
ateness, which no other help given to
human creatures in any other stage of
huwman life can possibly glve again -~
Phillips Brooks, {
g e S tm— *1
! Like Many Others i
" ®lf you had .five hundred dollars
what .sort of car would you buy?”
*“One that cost a thousand dollars,”
’ A scheme for uniting all transmis
slon lines Into 16 maln lines to serve
a district of 8,828 square miles I 8 un
der consideration In England.
Some people are never satisfled
until they find out something that
makes them dissatisfled,
A literary man claims to have
cured himself of insomnia by reading
portions of his own work,
Every woman knows that she talks
too much, but what she doesn't know
is a remedy for it, ;
' He sn't very much In love if he
writes sensbile letters to his best girl,
IT'S DANGEROUS GROUND
you stand on—with a
eouxh..“n oolc‘l“ o;
grippe, your bloo
impoverished. You
must do something!
Dr. Plerce's Golden
Medical Discovery
enrichos the blood-—
buids health and
strength.
). 1. Babentine of 622 #W
South Vieglnia Ave., Galnes- X i
wville, Fia, remarked: *“1 o
canght & svers cold,. As = »
soon s I would lie down I Y
would start coughing, break- Q
Ing my rest and da'f I —
ok medicine but did not i ®
?‘ relief, I saw Dr, Plerce's » -
wobden Medical Discovery
advertised as belng good for just such cases of
mine 80 1 began 1o take it and it gave me
wonderfal redlef, 1 can go to bed and pleep
without comghisg or belng broken of my nat
wrnl rest and sleep.”
All druggists, Tablets or fluid,
Send Dr, Pleroe, Buffalo, N, Y., 100
l!_yon desire a trial pkg, of tablets.
1(‘ ;
S e R
A I O
§ AN M Rpais
renewed
- lh&dh“'&l Jx
