REDHAIR Jk
J^BLI?E' SEA' jsiL
OSBORN
fIR ILLUSTRATIONS BY HttjNMT ygJgß
Van was silent for a long time;
then, unexpectedly, laughed. "As'
as good as any," lie said. "As, as
good as any," he said. "Go on your
raft, and down, stay, starve.
What's the difference? As regards
her—" he caught his breath in a
broken exhalation —'' she's gone."
Thurston gazed at him somberly.
"You, you mean you won't raise a
hand for her?"
' don't," Van answered wearily,
"and neither will you. We can't."
Thurston's face was resolute. "Per
haps you're right," he acknowledged.
"Very likely so. But tor me, I pre
fer to die—trying.
He would have hurried away but
the other detained him.
"I'm not your kind of an ass,"
Van said. "You fool, you know
there's no hope. Yet, by this Filly
work, you can kid yourself into a
sort of relief. Me! . . ." It was as
if he looked upon the girl lying dead.
But he tore himself from this vision,
became defiant. "You' still think
I'm yellow. Very well, then. I'll
show you. I'll help now; and when
you sail, I, too, shall go."
Thurston urged the men to work
as the first color of the dawn touch
ed the eastern sky the last of the
stores and gear was lashed into place.
Thurston stooped over Van, who
had fallen in the sleep of exhaus
tion, and waked him. "Say the
word," he announced. We're ready."
Van roused but slowly; then turn
ed upon the stronger man in a
futile rage at circumstance. "Damn
you," he cried, "I'd-rather stay here
and die like a gentleman—clean and
dry. But a moment later he sprang
up with his old laugh. "After all,
it's got to be the fish or the birds.
I'm a braver man than you, you op
timistic ass, because I know . . . "
He did not finish his thought.
"Come on. Let's get it over."
Twenty minutes later they were
at sea.
Twenty hours later the catama
ran was drifting, dismasted.
And Van Buren Rutger's the fault.
He had been given the steering oar.
But, sunk in dejection, he-had, in a
moment of inattention, allowed the
too-heavy boom to jibe, carrying
away the improvised tackle, and
snatch the mast overboard. As a re
sult Burke's rotten boat had fetched
RE DPATH I
"An Alpine j
Romance"
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PRODUCTION !
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FEATURE NUMBER OF GRAND CONCERT BY j
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RE D P AT H i
free of its lashings and the raft float
ed a wreck.
! Doomed never to rescue Palmyra
•from the villain Burke, John Thurs
ton had yet gladly staked life itself
1 upon a thousandth chance.
The Pigeon of Noah was flying in
j to the unknown.
The face of the man Burke was a
thing to wonder at. Under the ex
altation of a master idea it had
grown strange, compelling. His eyes
gleamed, his tongue stumbled in its
eagerness. For the first time in life
he was to voice that which long had
hidden in his evil mind. What had'
been only a vision of power was now
to become an actuality. And so much,
~o very much, depended on kindling
that wild spark he felt to glow with
in the soul of this girl he had seized
for his own—his woman.
"Tanna!" he cried. "Tanna! Ever
hear tell o' that island, Palm?" He
laughed excitedly. "Indeed and I've
took good care t'make y' acquaint.
"Tis for Tanna we'll be laying a
course, you and me," he went on,
with exuberant gesture acquired from
-» natives. "Tanna, where we'll lord
t like born king and queen."
"What a people! What a people
t'work with!" His fingers opened and
closed anticipatorily, with a cat-like
zestfulness. "What can't we do t'them
Papuan wildmen," he cried, "and
what can't we make 'em do for us.
That's the ticket, Palm: what we can
make 'em do for us!"
"Why, kid," he was expostulating
a moment later, "this here big idea
ain't something that popped into
m'head just recent. Gosh, no. Had it
in mind for years. But. . . He hesi
tated, diffident; a thing so foreign
to his usual brazen assurance as to
seem histrionic. "But the fast is I was
a-waiting for, for you!"
She was once more aware how very
real his infatuation.
"I just had t'have a dame for
this stunt," he went on passionate
ly. "A real dame, a sure enough
queen. And then I meets you. The
very first watch I sees y'got the
shape for it. And when y'lets out
about pirate blood, I knows y'got the
heart for it. 'Cause yer talk's on the
square; more on the square than you
yerself realizes."
The girl was increasingly under
standing how irrevocably, on the
THE FOREST CITY COURIER, TH URSDAY, MAY 10, 1928.
Rainbow, he had been misled by her
caprice. Listening at first in a pleas
ed surprise, he had been eagerly self
deceived. Sure that the lawless strain,
persisting through environment, had
at last roused, he was now convinced
she was already in love with the life
he typified—though she herself did
not as yet perceive the fast —and
hat, in the glamour this life cast up
on himself, she would in time willing
ly come to be his own.
"And, girl," Ponape Burke was
shouting, "there never, never was
no King had such a Queen as you.
Yer hair!" He exulted in the won
der of it. "That's how y'beat 'em all.
For, didn't I tell y' the Tannamen
saw red? —grabbed at red calico,
smeared their faces bright and gay,
rouged up the dead warrior gaudy
t'meet his maker, wound their own
heads all over with red vine t'cover
the wool?
"Don't y'understand? That's
what I was waiting on. The queen o'
my devil's own mission had t' have
red hair. And, Palm, them Tanna
men'll go plumb crazy with pious
pagan joy when they sees yer locks
a-lighting up, as the sun hits 'em,
like a stove full o' coals busting into
flame. Hair, I tell you, same as that
o' some o' the big buck gods o' Mel
anesia themselves. Yes, I say it, girl
—heathen hair!
"Why, Palm, I wish t'the Lord
y'could see yerself. I wish y'could
understand yourself. Y'was plain
born for the life. When I've waked
y'up, you'll be eager for Tanna; for
Tanna, where a man can be a man;
where there's never a law but the law
o' the cookpot and the sun and the
wind—and the will o' you and me."
Ponape Burke did a jig step or
two across the deck.
"Say, Palm, girl," he exclaimed;
"say—you and yer heathen hair! Did
I, or did I not, mention as how I
was going t'make y'a real sure
enough queen?"
> It was Burke's continuing de
light in her every show of angry
spirit, his self-restraining sense of
competence to bring the comedy to
an end any moment he chose, that
most intimidated Palmyra.
"Wait 'till I've tamed you," he
would laugh. "Then we'll get along
fine. And you'll sure like Tanna when
y'get the taste o' power in yer pret
ty mouth."
Only once had he laid a hand on
: ier. That was when, in a fury, she
had flown at him, clawing his face.
He hacf held her away, loudly hilar
ious. "I'd steal a kiss," he cried,
"if 'twasn't for my sore arm. But,
no ... I can wait till y'come free,
poking out yer lips and begging me
t'take a smack. 'Twon't be long."
Nor was her situation made easier
by Burke's evil sense of humor. Pos
sibly to hasten her,surrender, more
probably in a mere cruel amusement,
it played upon her fears.
There was, for instances, the oc
casion when Olive, for the first time
aboard the Pigeon of Noah, spoke to
her.
Had it not been for those brown
shot eyes, always so stealthily upon
her, she would sometimes have
thought of this savage as a machine.
There was a sort of unhuman precis
ion about him.
And now, in this wise, the mo
ment Burke had gone below, the
brown man materialized himself at
her side. She was never prepared
for the exceeding change from his
statuesque silences into the gestic
ular animation of his speech. He
had opened his mouth, apparently for
getting as on the Rainbow that they
knew no word in common. Then, real
izing, he stopped at a loss.
The girl shrank back; fled, in pan
ic at the very nearness of him, to
ward the companionway. But there
she recollected that Burke was at the
foot of the ladder, and stood help
less.
Then the white man came climb
ing up. "Y' little vixen," he warn
ed in a malicious enjoyment of the
situation, "push "me overboard . .
He interrupted himself with a burst
of laughter. "Gad," he cried, "but
I'd hate t' give y'the chance! Push
me overboard, and I'm gone. But—
Olive's left. Remember that. I'm
what stands between you. I ain't a
saying as how he'd love a red-headed
goddess all his own. Oh, no! But I
do see he's got his eye on y'like a
wolf following a nice fat little lamb
off into the timber."
The girf shuddered. Burke or
Olive? White savage or brown? A
cry of despair rose to her lips but
she fought it back. Her hand stole
up toward the opening of her dress,
lingered, fell again to her side.
Since that event—it was now her
third day aboard the Lupe-a-Noa —
she had been wondering whether
Ponape Burke really did stand be
tween her and his man. She had
not forgotten Burke's saying that
Olive, if he knew his power, could
snap his master's back across one
of those big brown knees like a piece
of kindling. And she suspected at
times that Olive might know this
quite well.
The day with the disconcerting
suddenness of the Equator, had
faded and darkness would soon have
been upon them. Burke had* waved
a hand toward the cabin with kingly
gesture. "The royal chamber awaits,
Queenie," he had said. "Hot as hell
down there and you'll soon be
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squawking for a hammock on deck.
But tonight . . . There's a lock."
The girl had sprung, trembling,
panting, for the companion, had
slammed it shut and shot home the
bolts. Then she had stumbled
down the steps and thrown her
self, sobbing, upon the bunk. She
had borne up bravely so long as the
sun remained, but on the closing in
of night, with all its sinister impli
cations, she had given away.
Sleep impossible, the night drag
ged on. Above decks there had been,
as it seemed for hours, only the
heavy breathing of slumber. At last,
like a trapped animal herself, she had
begun a futile prying. And then,
without warning in that silence, there
came, quite close at hand, a sound.
The girl, crouched, tense. Again it
came, hidden, menacing.
(Continued next week)
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