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"Say," she said, "do you ever gil up
I 'ope." said Jim with serious eye>.
never darst to. An' (Jiam'pa
'oil don't darst to.' 'Fraid-cat ! 'Fraid-
Oh, Mister 'Fraid-cat!"
ie pointed her finger half an inch
. his nose; then, she broke and ran.
minute she came backing around the
?r of the stable again, dragging the
ladder that had been the lifeboat
i the steamer was wrecked. Jim
>d her to set it against the wall,
ain't afraid," he said. "You lemme
r o. I'm the tallest. You git. under
_.' boost, Jim. There! You all ready .'
boost. Boost hard!''
Jim did as he was told, and Carrie went
up in a scramble of waving legs and
clutching fingers from the top of the lad
der to the top of the wall. She helped
Jim up by the shoulders, and then they
both knelt, clinging to one another and
looking at the great depth below. Jim
felt unsteady. High places always seared
him, and as he looked down at the litter
of chips and ash-piles and the thick bur
docks among them he felt as if he were out
floating on a raft, somewhere in the sky.
But it just suited Carrie. In half a
minute she had found out that they could
get from the high wall to the stable roof;
and so, over she w r ent, with her pig-tail
tucked in her mouth and Jim after her.
The slope of the shingles was almost too
steep to climb; but they lay on their stom
achs with arms spread out, and wormed
themselves along until they had the ridge
pole safely under their arm-pits.
"Say!" Carrie shouted, tossing her hair
down her back again with a quick, hard
head-shake. "Ain't this fun? Like real
adventures? Like climbing mountains, Jim? Say, don't you wish it was real?"
"M-m-yee-ah," Jim answered rather weakly. "Like climbin' the Andes
Mountains. Let's us play we 're in Peru."
Jim had no doubts on that point. The houses and yards all looked
queer; so far below, with the high fences all thinned and narrow and the
trees without any trunks, only tumbled, waving leaves.
" 'Fraid-cat! Oh, Mister'Fraid-cat!"
In another second Carrie had straddled the ridge; then, she got to her
hands and knees; then, she straightened herself and stood up there against
the blue sky, shaking her head till her red pig-tail flapped on her shoulders.
"I 'm goin' to walk to the cuperlow," she shouted.
The cupola w T as not a rod away; but it looked ten times as far.
" 'Fraid-cat!" Carrie sang to Jim again as she went slowly past him,
walking the very ridge, fitting each heel exactly in front of the toe of the
That was more than the boy could stand. He fixed his eyes on the
shingles, so that he could not see; and then — scared, dumb and white — he
pushed himself clumsily to his feet. He could stand, after all — unsteadily;
but he stood. Carrie was at the cupola already. She hardly touched the
clapboards as she turned, she was so sure of her footing. Slowly she
started toward him again.
"Carrie! Carrie-ec! Mercy!"
It was a shriek from Carrie's mother. She was crying and waving her
apron on her porch. Jim saw tier in a Hash; then, his eyes came back to
"Don't you look!" he shouted.
But he was too late. Carrie turned and saw her mother. She saw the
yards, too, and the waving trees and the thin fences* below — then, the
steep, smooth slant of shingles, and the sickening drop at the eaves. Jim
saw the look of it come on her face before she began to scream. Jler yelling
cry shrilled in his ears. Her arms went out. She was losing her balance.
Jim heard, and walked straight to her as if he had not been afraid. She
grabbed at him. and lie caught her arm with his hand and looked her in
"Be you a 'fraid-cat? Be you a 'fraid-cat? Be you a 'fraid-cat?"
He kept saying it over. He was not talking loud: but in a way he never
had talked — slowly, with his eyes half shut. The girl's face changed. Slie
straightened herself, and Jim turned, as sure-footed as if he had been on
"Put your hands on me," he ordered.
She did as he said, and they walked back slowly to where they had
climbed the roof. They went down slowly, holding tight to one another,
and landed at the foot of the ladder at last, safe and sound except for four
"Carrie-ec!" her mother's voice came to them over the fences.
"Ye-es, Ma!" the girl called.
She brought her pig-tail over her shoulder again, as she turned to the
boy, and stood pulling it awkwardly.
"Say. Jim," she said. "You —yon didn't say 1 teas a 'fraid-cat —up
THE SEMI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE SECTION
Defiantly demure ... a little jaunty
.... and so very pale
there, did youl Thai say you know, that was awful good oi you. Jim.
lie had no idea what was coming; but she hugged Inn. all ol a sudden,
and gave him a warm, big kiss on the mouth. Then, she ran away. Next day
her mother kepi her indoors; the day after, Jim's visit to his grandfather »<p
over, and afte. that they did not see each other for sixteen years. But often Ihe
girl would go over to the yard across the street and look for the ocean and the
junglM and the Andes. And, tinding them ordinary dooryard and stable, and
being a girl of few dreams, she made a great deal of their one daring day ol
play-adventures, and wished and wished that Jim would come again thai Jim
would come, and be with her again, having adventures, and that he would make
it all be real.
AND. IN A WAY, he did. It happened in New York, where anything may
• happen, where indeed almost anything does happen once or twice a year.
Jim came swinging through Forty-first street, his hands in his overcoat pockets,
a hard winter wind from Jersey blaring in his face. It was nearly eight o clock;
an overtime rehearsal had just let out on Sixth avenue, and the girls of the ••horns
were strung all along the block to Broadway, fluttering and slanted against the
wind like the flags in a battle-picture. Jim forged past them, forded the Broad
way traffic in the lee of a theater that looked like a sunrise,-and pushed on into
The policeman's whistle shrilled at the crossing above; the dark mass of
automobiles surged forward at the signal, and then he was in the thick ot it—
dark shapes, growling, rushing, swerving, shaking paired lights like horns; quick
glares of glass sad metal, humped chauffeurs, bearlike and mountainous, the
flash of a rose-red mantle and a shining throat; gasolene-smell, clacking chains,
shouts, hoots, hoof-beats, and over all a great shaking roar as the irolley-whee s
came down like pounding surf on the crossing. A north-bound taxi brayed sud
denly, splitting apart a couple close to him. They belonged to the rehearsal
crowd, and the girl was Carrie.
He never would have"known her if he had not seen her jump, one baud
thrown out, the way she used to, with a quick, hard headshake. She was very
small. He had always supposed she was a tall girl.
"Hello! Say, hello!" he shouted through the racket. "Say, don't you
"No," she answered him coldly, with her head up and her lips pressed tighsgk
"Yes you do. You 're Carrie —" J
"Why_, Ji m j Well, of all people — and you've grown so! My, you've
grown! Now, don't you keep me here talking in the street — here's a chance —"
He tucked her under his arm, whisked her through the breach between a
limousine and a laundry-wagon and landed her on the sidewalk. While they were
still exclaiming and looking, a man saved himself from the whizzing Avenue
and came up to them.
"Mr. St. Clair, T want you to mcct —"
(Continued on Page II)
SCENTING BIG GAME
Drawn by Alice Beach Winter