xlii 



RECREA TION. 



THE ASSOCIATED PIRATES. 



E. T. KEYSER. 



"Where's Paresis?" inquired the Hoo- 

 doo anxiously. 



Supper has disappeared some time ago, 

 also Paresis. 



" Been in the cabin for the last half 

 hour," says Grouty, ridding himself of an 

 intrusive caterpillar and sinking back on 

 his cushion of rock. 



" And the prescription department in 

 there," moaned the Microbe. " O Lord, 

 just my luck. Why didn't I take that drink 

 at dinner? " 



" What's that about a drink? " asked 

 Paresis, emerging from the shanty. 



The Microbe started to answer him but 

 the remark was strangled at its birth and 

 he gazed with a scared expression at the 

 questioner. 



The Reformed Cowboy's glance was 

 turned on Paresis for an instant, then 

 having satisfied himself that his holster was 

 hanging in the cabin, he subsided in a heap. 



For Paresis was transformed. Wearing 

 a brand new and somewhat vociferous 

 golf suit and a pair of tan shoes, he would 

 be bad enough; but to these habilaments 

 he had, with malice aforethought, added 

 a white shirt, a standing collar and a 4-in- 

 hand tie. 



Taking unfair advantage of the stupefac- 

 tion caused by his get-up, Paresis made 

 his escape with his life and the Latona, 

 which had been carefully tied up at the 

 dock, ready for him; and hoisting sail, 

 glided off into the river with his bow in 

 the direction of Yonkers. 



" I don't wish the youth any harm," said 

 the Hoodoo, pathetically, " but I'd give a 

 large percentage of my hard stolen wealth 

 to have him capsize while we can see him." 



The Microbe recovered sufficiently from 

 his trance to shout out a request for the 

 voyager to bring back some potatoes, 

 bread, and a bottle of cocktails. 



"Wonder what his glory cost him?" 

 audibly mused the Cowboy. 



" Five ninety-eight, reduced from 9.50," 

 promptly answered Hippocampannini, 

 who had followed Paresis from his bou- 

 doir. 



"Sure?" asked Grouty. 



" Oh, yes," said Hippocampannini, 

 cheerfully, " saw the tag on the floor 

 and pinned it to his coat tail while he 

 was curling his mustache." 



Happiness descended on the crowd 

 again at this announcement. The honor 

 of the camp was avenged. 



As the canoe moved silently down the 

 river, the convent bell of Mt. St. Vincent 

 rang out the hour. The intervening space 

 of moon-lit air reduced its tones to a far- 

 away musical vibration which chimed over 

 the water, and was re-echoed by the tower- 

 ing Palisades on the Western shore, to 

 fall again on the ear like the shadow of a 



song. Listening to this, the paddler les- 

 sened his stroke and fell into a reverie — a 

 sad one, judging by the expression of his 

 face and the half suppressed sigh which 

 escaped him. 



The moonlight, the soft wind just rip- 

 pling the water, and, above all, the soli- 

 tude, unbroken save by the rattling chain 

 of some distant schooner as it comes to 

 anchor, all tend to recall memories of 

 other days — and what are memories but 

 regrets? Regrets for pleasures, for com- 

 panionships, for loves that are past; re- 

 grets for errors and unkindness, now be- 

 yond recall. To which of these does that 

 sigh owe its birth? 



But suddenly, as if shaking off a mo- 

 mentary fit of weakness which shamed 

 him even to himself, the canoeist put forth 

 an effort which transformed his wake into 

 a glittering band of phosphorescence, and 

 quickly brought the little craft opposite 

 the camp. 



And then, Paresis broke the silvery si- 

 lence of the night and disclosed that 

 which caused his melancholy. 



" That's a poor cocktail they mix at 



the Getty House this Summer." 



" Our bargain counter friend has re- 

 turned," observed the Hoodoo, as Paresis, 

 having tied up his canoe by the dandy 

 halliard, appeared pained at its refusal to 

 lie head to the wind. 



" Judging by his present contortions," 

 says Grouty, " I should say there has been 

 a mark-down sale of spiritus frumenti, up 

 Yonkers way." 



Having convinced himself that profanity 

 in Allopathic doses will not cure the La- 

 tona of her apparent cussedness, Paresis 

 sadly left her to her own wicked designs 

 and approached his comrades. 



" Got the potatoes? " asked the Hoodoo. 



" Forgot 'em," confessed Paresis, sol- 

 emnly. 



" The bread? " asked Hippocampannini. 



Paresis turned his pockets inside out 

 and finally admitted a lapse of memory in 

 that direction also. 



"Where are the cocktails?" demanded 

 the Cowboy, anxiously. 



A gleam of happiness lighted the coun- 

 tenance of Paresis. 



"Forget 'em too?" growled the Mi- 

 crobe. 



"No!" shouted Paresis. "No, sir! 

 No!" 



" Well, where are they? " queried the 

 Pirates in chorus. 



Paresis smiled and unbuttoning his coat, 

 suggestively rubbed his hand over the 

 lower portion of his now crumpled shirt 

 front, and sank gracefully into the Cow- 

 boy's place at the fireside, where the dis- 

 gusted Pirates left him and sought their 

 bunks. 



