“Mickey, I’m comf’rable as nangel
now.”
“Gee, I’m glad, Lily,” said Mickey
in deep satisfaction. “Maybe He heard my
S.O.S. after all, and you just being comfortable
is the answer.”
“Bearer of Morning”
“Douglas,” called Leslie over the telephone,
“I have developed nerves.”
“Why?” inquired he.
“Dad has just come in with a pair of waist-high
boots, and a scalping knife, I think,” answered
Leslie. “Are you going to bring a blanket
and a war bonnet?”
“The blanket, I can; the bonnet, I might,”
said Douglas.
“How early will you be ready?” she asked.
“Whenever you say,” he replied.
“Five?” she queried.
“Very well!” he answered. “And
Leslie, I would suggest a sweater, short stout skirts,
and heavy gloves. Do you know if you are susceptible
to poison vines?”
“I have handled anything wild as I pleased all
my life,” she said. “I am sure there
is no danger from that source; but Douglas, did you
ever hear of, or see, a massasauga?”
“You are perfectly safe on that score,”
he said. “I am going along especially to
take care of you.”
“All right, then I won’t be afraid of
snakes,” she said.
“I have waders, too,” he said, “and
I’m going into the swamp with you. Wherever
you wish to go, I will precede you and test the footing.”
“Very well! I have lingered on the borders
long enough. To-morrow will be my initiation.
By night I’ll have learned the state of my artistic
ability with natural resources, and I’ll know
whether the heart of the swamp is the loveliest sight
I ever have seen, and I will have proved how I ‘line
up’ with a squaw-woman.”
“Leslie, I’m now reading a most interesting
human document,” said Douglas, “and in
it I have reached the place where Indians in the heart
of terrific winter killed and heaped up a pile of
deer in early day in Minnesota, then went to camp
rejoicing, while their squaws were left to walk twenty-eight
miles and each carry back on her shoulder a deer frozen
stiff. Leslie, you don’t line up!
You are not expected to.”
“Do you believe that, Douglas?” asked
the girl.
“It’s history dear, not fiction,”
he answered.
“Douglas!” she warned.
“Leslie, I beg your pardon! That was a
slip!” cried he.
“Oh!” she breathed.
“Leslie, will you do something for me?”
he questioned.
“What?” she retorted.
“Listen with one ear, stop the other, and tell
me what you hear,” he ordered.
“Yes,” she said.
“Did you hear, Leslie?” he asked anxiously.
“I heard something, I don’t know what,”
she answered.
“Can you describe it, Leslie?”
“Just a rushing, beating sound! What is
it Douglas?”
“My heart, Leslie, sending to you each throbbing
stroke of my manhood pouring out its love for you.”
