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Copyright, 1922, by David OC, Cook Publishing Company.
DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING COMPANY, E crn, ILirvors,
June 10, 1922.
She Box in the.Sand
Ea, . By hanes JDechan
Frank started at a brisk pace over the sand
dunes.
” VENING had merged into night, and
night, on the saud dunes that fringe
Lake Michigan, means not hushed
gray hours but heavy black hours during
which the dull murmur from the restless
water ix constantly heard.
Philip Morvis, who had been reading in
a little shack near the lake, put down his
book und tried to persuade the oil Jamp to
increase its radiance,
“This light won't blind us with its
glare; we cau be sure of that,” he grum-
bled as be turted the wick up a trifle.
“Don't see bon, the old timers managed
to read at night.”
“They went to bed early,” came a yawn
from a boy on the other side of the room.
“Phil, do you kuow, that my great grand-
father, I’m not sure of the exact num-
ber of ‘greats’ but three anyway, was one
of the French pioneers who crossed these
sand dunes on an ‘expedition from Fort
Detroit to the present site of Chicago?”
“But your name, Fisher, doesn’t sound
ee lrenehy.”
It’s the corruption of the French, Fes-
sier, Francois Fessier was the name of
my adventurous ancestor, My name,
Frank Fisher, is the—er—American of it.”
** American’ is right!’ laughed - Phil,
taking out his watch. “Hm, it’s getting
near eight orelock., _ Dan Shubert should be
along pretty so
Had a tingling current of electricity come
ia contact with his bedy, Frank Fisher
would not have leaped up more quickly
than he new did. Crash!
toppled the chair. - Frank paid no heed to
the racket. ‘ Dan Shubert ! he exclaimed.
“Why's that fellow coming here? You
know my feeling towards him!”
Phil quietly arose sud righted the over-
turned chair, ‘Then grasping the arm of
his excited companion, be led him to it and
seated him. {*They say. count ten; but
you'd better count ten thousand,” he ad-
yised. “Shubert isn’t going to hurt you.
Calm yourself, boy! Relax! Your face
isn't.a thing of beauty at present.”
“Tf Shubert is coming here,”
Frank, “I’m going elsewhere.”
“OF he goes in another temper,” Phil
observed to the Iamp as he reached for
his book. “Guess I'll have to fan him.
It'll keep his temperature down to normal.”
Phil waved the book up and down be-
growled
. smile,
Over backward |
fore the flushed face of Frank. When
Frank’s frown finally surrendering to a
Phil spoke.
“ Now if you'll be good, I'll tell you why
Dan Shubert is going to visit the sand
dunes tonight. Mr. Benson, the dean at
Wellington Academy, where you and yours
truly are students, decided to bring the
two upper classes to the sand dunes for a
lesson in natural history and a few of the
ologies.” { He sent Frank Fisher and
Philip Morris to the dunes a day ahead,
that they might look over the ground and
be able to act as guides when the classes
arrived. ’
“The principal of Albermarle High
School had a like plan; so he and our Mr.
Benson got together and arranged to havé
the trip an interscholastic affair—-have
both schools come the same day. Dan
Shubert was the high-school boy selected to
spend the night with us. Ile’s driving over
in his father’s car. It’s only a fifteen-mile
trip; he should be here soon. The academy
and the high-school are such near neighbors
that their students should be good friends.”
“Maybe they. should,” growled Frank,
“but don’t say I should be a friend to
Shubert! I'l never do anything for him
if I can-help it!”
*S-sh! S-sh!" soothed Phil.
an awfully long—”
That instant the book ceased to be a
fan. Vhil stopped his banter. Surprise
caused Frank to forget his anger. Both
boys stared out the little square window
that faced the sand dunes away from Lake
Michigan.’ Two flashes of light, like the
winking of a fiery dragon, swept through
the glass. Another came. Then darkness
shrouded the outside world, and the boys,
turning from the window, looked in sur-
prise at each other,
“Tt could hardly be lightning,” muttered
Frank, “and yet, what else would cause
flasbes of light out there on the dunes?’
“We-why,” hesitated Phil, “it might be
the lights of Shubert’s car. When he
turned down the sand road after leaving
the Pike, | his lights would certainly show
down her
Frank “sot up from his seat. “ Well,
Phil, if Shubert is coming, TH be going.
Guess Ma McCartney over in the village
will give me a night's lodging. So long!”
“Never is
“Oh, forget your old grudge; the three
of us can have a real sociable evening to-
gether.”
Phil’s plea was useless. Frank lit one
of the shack’s lanterns and put on bis cap.
“ Good-night,” he called over his shoulder.
Then the door closed and Philip Morris had
but himself for company.
“Too bad,” Phil mused as he again sat
down. “Frank Fisher is a fine fellow, a
good sport in most things, too; but he does
hold’ a grudge against Dan Shubert. It
all started over a dispute in a_ football
game. | ueer how big little things can
grow,
Once outside Frank started at a brisk
pace over the sand.dunes towards the vil-
lage. Ile was sorry to leave his chum, but
sorry or not he posit#ely would not make
one of a party of three if that party was
to include Dan Shubert.
Frank fretfully swung his lantern at a
weed stalk. “Phil might have told me that
Shubert was coming,” he grumbled. ‘Then
I could have stayed at home instead of hay-
ing to tramp the five long miles to the
village.”
So deep in gloom was he, that his ears
failed.to catch the far-away chug-chug-chug
of an engine. But soon that murmur grew
louder. Frank raised his eyes from frown-
ing contemplation of the sand as he recog-
nized the sound
“So those lights were from Shubert’s
ear... Well, I didn’t leave any too soon!”
Ife struggled on up the side of one of the
miniature mountains of sand‘ that rose
above a level stretch of the dunes. On
reaching the crest he saw two moving lights
on the high ridge across from him.
“What's he going up there for?” gasped
Frank. “Lost his way I'll bet! Turned
off the sand road, and now he’s on the sum-
mit of , Slippery Slope. Of all the block-
heads!
Toate gave a low whistle of astonish-
ment. The car had started down Slippery
Slope. The headlights dimmed. Bvidently
the driver had shut off the engine and in-
tended to coast to the bottom. But that
bottom! No wonder Frank was startled.
The bottom was a deep morass. If the
ear plunged into this treacherous quag-
mire, there would only be a few bubbles
to show where it had-disappeared. If the
car on its way down the slope crashed into
one of the gaunt poplars growing on the
slope, the driver would not have a pleasant
ending. Yet between the swamp at the
bottom and the trees on the slope there
wasn’t much choice in the way of endings.
“Steering- gear must be broken,
”
mut-
Frank thoughtfully Pp sacred the rolled parchment back Into the box.
however, not all spent.
tered Frank as he saw the flickering lights
take a zig-zag course down the hill. Then
he glanced down to his left where lay the
black swamp. at glapce caused Frank
to shiver, but it also spurred him into ac-
tion. Waving the lantern frantically, he
tore along the ridge to where. it joined the
incline of Slippery Slope.
“ TIi, you!” he shouted. “Jump! Swamp
ahead. D'you hear? Jump.
The driver of the little car beard him
and made a head-long dive from the seat
and landed in a heap in the sand. The
car, freed of guidance, continued down to-
ward the swamp.
Frank swung his lantern and saw the
driver getting onto his feet, then ran to-
ward the car, ‘‘ Shubert will be all right,”
be told himself. ‘That loose sand made a
yood cushion. L’ve already done enough for
him. No need of my going back to ask him
4f he hurt his little toe.
Longer than be believed possible, the car
“Why is that fellow coming here?
escaped collision with the trees. Indeed, he
had already decided that the morass would
claim the machine, when it hit something
in the sand, and skidded sideways until
the back wheels were as far down the hill
as the front.
he momentum previously gained was,
The rear of the
car continued to describe an arc around the
object and “plop ”—the back of the ma-
chine met the trunk of a tree. Out went
the headlights. Dan Shubert’s car pre-+
pared to take a well merited rest. Frank
with his lantern approached.
“Elizabeth, thou hast done noble!” he
addressed the machine. “If you had been
a ten-thousand-dollar car, you would now
be a total loss!” Frank patted -the hood
of the machine. “ Yes, you sure are a won-
der, Liz. ‘There may be a few dents in you
and there may be a screw or two loose but
with a little ingenuity and alittle baling
wire, you'll be as good as, well as good as -
second hand. Now let’s see what it was
that caused you to halt that mad impulse
to swim in the deep, dark swamp!”
Wedged against the left wheel and the
front axle was a strong box of carved oak.
It had in all probability been buried in the
sand for a long time.
Ilastily scraping away the sand, Frank
managed to pry the strange box from under
the car, After still more difficulty he
worked the lid open and began to éxamine
his find by the light of the lantern. On
top of a number of packages was a parch-
ment scroll,
“Why, it's written in French,”
claimed. “My, but
handwriting.” .
But the date, nearly three hundred years
before, showed that his father had not
Continued on page
he ex-
it looks like dad's .
