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diff --git a/old/33903-h/33903-h.htm b/old/33903-h/33903-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f54b6fc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/33903-h/33903-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11060 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta name="generator" content="eppg.py 0.82 (02-Oct-2010)" /> + <title>Into the Primitive, by Robert Ames Bennet</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.8em; font-weight:normal; font-variant:small-caps;} + h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} + div.figcenter p {text-align:center;} + p.center {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + p.caption {font-size:smaller;} + hr.double {border:1px solid black; height:3px; width:300px; border-left:none; border-right:none;} + hr.single {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:300px;} + .c {text-align:center;} + .fs22 {font-size:2.2em;} + .mb20 {margin-bottom:20px;} + .fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} + .mb10 {margin-bottom:10px;} + .mt10 {margin-top:10px;} + .fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} + .mt20 {margin-top:20px;} + .mb40 {margin-bottom:40px;} + .i {font-style:italic;} + .mt40 {margin-top:40px;} + .mb00 {margin-bottom:00px;} + .mt00 {margin-top:00px;} + hr.short {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:6em;} + table.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:.7em; margin-top:.7em; text-align:center; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + table.poetry p {margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + a {text-decoration:none;} + div.toc {} + div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} + table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} + td.tcol1 {text-align:right; padding-right:1ex; vertical-align:top;} + td.tcol2 {text-align:left; padding-right:2ex; vertical-align:top;} + td.tcol3 {text-align:right; vertical-align:bottom;} + td.center {text-align:center;} + td.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} + span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} + .fs14 {font-size:1.4em;} + div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:.7em; margin-top:.7em;} + div.poetry p {margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Into the Primitive, by Robert Ames Bennet + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Into the Primitive + +Author: Robert Ames Bennet + +Illustrator: Allen T. True + +Release Date: October 27, 2010 [EBook #33903] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INTO THE PRIMITIVE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/primitive-fpc.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +“<span class='sc'>It Can’t Be that You Want to Go Back to All<br />Those Society Shams, After You’ve Seen Real Life!</span>” +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs22 mb20'>INTO<br />THE PRIMITIVE</p> +<hr class='double' /> +<p class='c fs12 mb10 mt10'>By ROBERT AMES BENNET</p> +<hr class='single' /> +<p class='c fs08 mt20'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class='c fs08 mb40'>“For the White Christ,” “Thyra,” Etc.</p> +<div class='figcenter'><img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='emblem' /></div> +<p class='c i mt40 mb20'>With Frontispiece in Colors<br />By ALLEN T. TRUE</p> +<hr class='double' /> +<p class='c fs12 mb00 mt20'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p class='c mt00'><span class='sc'>Publishers            New York</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c sc'>Copyright<br />A. C. McClurg & Co.<br />1908</p> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class='c'>Published April 11, 1908<br />Second Edition, May 9, 1908<br />Third Edition, Aug. 1, 1908</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p> <i>To the man and to the beast;</i></p> +<p><i>To the girl, the snake, the blossom;</i></p> +<p> <i>To fever and fire and fear;</i></p> +<p><i>To hurricane blast and storm within;</i></p> +<p> <i>To bloody fang and venomed tooth;</i></p> +<p><i>To love, to hate, to pain, to joy,–</i></p> +<p> <i>For of such is Life,</i></p> +<p> <i>In the Primitive–and out.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12'><span class='sc'>By Mr. Bennet</span></p> +<hr class='short' /> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +FOR THE WHITE CHRIST. A Story<br /> +of the Days of Charlemagne. Illustrations<br /> +in full color by the Kinneys. <i>Twentieth<br /> +thousand.</i> $1.50. +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='short' /> +<p class='c'><span class='sc'>A. C. McClurg & Co., Publishers</span></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='toc'> +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Wave-tossed and Castaway</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Worse than Wilderness</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Worth of Fire</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>A Journey in Desolation</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Re-ascent of Man</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Man and Gentleman</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Around the Headland</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Club Age</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Leopards’ Den</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Problems in Woodcraft</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>A Despoiled Wardrobe</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Survival of the Fittest</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Mark of the Beast</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_13'>159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIV.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Fever and Fire and Fear</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_14'>174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XV.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>With Bow and Club</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_15'>191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVI.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Savage Manifest</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_16'>201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Serpent Strikes</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_17'>212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVIII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Eavesdropper Caught</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_18'>226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIX.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>An Ominous Lull</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_19'>235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XX.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The Hurricane Blast</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_20'>251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXI.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Wreckage and Salvage</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_21'>263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>Understanding and Misunderstanding</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_22'>272</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIII.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>The End of the World</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_23'>284</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIV.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>A Lion Leads Them</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_24'>299</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXV.</td><td class='tcol2'><span class='sc'>In Double Salvation</span></td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_25'>314</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>Into the Primitive</h1> + +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class='h2fs'>WAVE-TOSSED AND CASTAWAY</span></h2> + +<p>The beginning was at Cape Town, when +Blake and Winthrope boarded the steamer +as fellow passengers with Lady Bayrose +and her party.</p> + +<p>This was a week after Winthrope had arrived +on the tramp steamer from India, and her Ladyship +had explained to Miss Leslie that it was as +well for her not to be too hasty in accepting his +attentions. To be sure, he was an Englishman, +his dress and manners were irreproachable, and +he was in the prime of ripened youth. Yet Lady +Bayrose was too conscientious a chaperon to be +fully satisfied with her countryman’s bare assertion +that he was engaged on a diplomatic mission +requiring reticence regarding his identity. She +did not see why this should prevent him from +confiding in <i>her</i>.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this, Winthrope came aboard +ship virtually as a member of her Ladyship’s +party. He was so quick, so thoughtful of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +comfort, and paid so much more attention to her +than to Miss Leslie, that her Ladyship had decided +to tolerate him, even before Blake became +a factor in the situation.</p> + +<p>From the moment he crossed the gangway the +American engineer entered upon a daily routine +of drinking and gambling, varied only by attempts +to strike up an off-hand acquaintance with +Miss Leslie. This was Winthrope’s opportunity, +and his clever frustration of what Lady Bayrose +termed “that low bounder’s impudence” served +to install him in the good graces of her Ladyship +as well as in the favor of the American heiress.</p> + +<p>Such, at least, was what Winthrope intimated +to the persistent engineer with a superciliousness +of tone and manner that would have stung even +a British lackey to resentment. To Blake it was +supremely galling. He could not rejoin in kind, +and the slightest attempt at physical retort would +have meant irons and confinement. It was a British +ship. Behind Winthrope was Lady Bayrose; +behind her Ladyship, as a matter of course, was all +the despotic authority of the captain. In the circumstances, +it was not surprising that the American +drank heavier after each successive goading.</p> + +<p>Meantime the ship, having touched at Port +Natal, steamed on up the East Coast, into the +Mozambique Channel.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span>On the day of the cyclone, Blake had withdrawn +into his stateroom with a number of +bottles, and throughout that fearful afternoon +was blissfully unconscious of the danger. Even +when the steamer went on the reef, he was only +partially roused by the shock.</p> + +<p>He took a long pull from a quart flask of +whiskey, placed the flask with great care in his +hip pocket, and lurched out through the open +doorway. There he reeled headlong against the +mate, who had rushed below with three of the +crew to bring up Miss Leslie. The mate cursed +him virulently, and in the same breath ordered +two of the men to fetch him up on deck.</p> + +<p>The sea was breaking over the steamer in torrents; +but between waves Blake was dragged +across to the side and flung over into the bottom +of the one remaining boat. He served as a +cushion to break the fall of Miss Leslie, who was +tossed in after him. At the same time, Winthrope, +frantic with fear, scrambled into the bows +and cut loose. One of the sailors leaped, but fell +short and went down within arm’s length of Miss +Leslie.</p> + +<p>She and Winthrope saw the steamer slip from +the reef and sink back into deep water, carrying +down in the vortex the mate and the few remaining +sailors. After that all was chaos to them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +They were driven ashore before the terrific gusts +of the cyclone, blinded by the stinging spoondrift +to all else but the hell of breakers and coral reefs +in whose midst they swirled so dizzily. And +through it all Blake lay huddled on the bottom +boards, gurgling blithely of spicy zephyrs and +swaying hammocks.</p> + +<p>There came the seemingly final moment when +the boat went spinning stern over prow. . . . .</p> + +<p>Half sobered, Blake opened his eyes and stared +solemnly about him. He was given little time to +take his bearings. A smother of broken surf +came seething up from one of the great breakers, +to roll him over and scrape him a little farther up +the muddy shore. There the flood deposited him +for a moment, until it could gather force to sweep +back and drag him down again toward the roaring +sea that had cast him up.</p> + +<p>Blake objected,–not to the danger of being +drowned, but to interference with his repose. He +had reached the obstinate stage. He grunted a +protest. . . . . Again the flood seethed up the +shore, and rolled him away from the danger. +This was too much! He set his jaw, turned over, +and staggered to his feet. Instantly one of the +terrific wind-blasts struck his broad back and +sent him spinning for yards. He brought up in +a shallow pool, beside a hummock.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span>Under the lee of the knoll lay Winthrope and +Miss Leslie. Though conscious, both were draggled +and bruised and beaten to exhaustion. +They were together because they had come +ashore together. When the boat capsized, Miss +Leslie had been flung against the Englishman, +and they had held fast to each other with the +desperate clutch of drowning persons. Neither +of them ever recalled how they gained the shelter +of the hummock.</p> + +<p>Blake, sitting waist-deep in the pool, blinked at +them benignly with his pale blue eyes, and produced +the quart flask, still a third full of whiskey.</p> + +<p>“I shay, fren’s,” he observed, “ha’ one on me. +Won’ cos’ you shent–notta re’ shent!”</p> + +<p>“You fuddled lout!” shouted Winthrope. +“Come out of that pool.”</p> + +<p>“Wassama’er pool! Pool’s allri’!”</p> + +<p>The Englishman squinted through the driving +scud at the intoxicated man with an anxious +frown. In all probability he felt no commiseration +for the American; but it was no light matter +to be flung up barehanded on the most unhealthful +and savage stretch of the Mozambique coast, +and Blake might be able to help them out of +their predicament. To leave him in the pool was +therefore not to be thought of. So soon as he +had drained his bottle, he would lie down, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +that would be the end of him. As any attempt +to move him forcibly was out of the question, +the situation demanded that Winthrope justify +his intimations of diplomatic training. After considering +the problem for several minutes, he met +it in a way that proved he was at least not lacking +in shrewdness and tact.</p> + +<p>“See here, Blake,” he called, in another lull +between the shrieking gusts, “the lady is fatigued. +You’re too much of a gentleman to ask +her to come over there.”</p> + +<p>It required some moments for this to penetrate +Blake’s fuddled brain. After a futile attempt to +gain his feet, he crawled out of the pool on all +fours, and, with tears in his eyes, pressed his flask +upon Miss Leslie. She shrank away from him, +shuddering, and drew herself up in a huddle of +flaccid limbs and limp garments. Winthrope, +however, not only accepted the flask, but came +near to draining it.</p> + +<p>Blake squinted at the diminished contents, +hesitated, and cast a glance of maudlin gallantry +at Miss Leslie. She lay coiled, closer than before, +in a draggled heap. Her posture suggested sleep. +Blake stared at her, the flask extended waveringly +before him. Then he brought it to his lips, and +drained out the last drop.</p> + +<p>“Time turn in,” he mumbled, and sprawled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +full length in the brackish ooze. Immediately +he fell into a drunken stupor.</p> + +<p>Winthrope, invigorated by the liquor, rose to +his knees, and peered around. It was impossible +to face the scud and spoondrift from the furious +sea; but to leeward he caught a glimpse of a +marsh flooded with salt water, its reedy vegetation +beaten flat by the storm. He himself was +beaten down by a terrific gust. Panting and +trembling, he waited for the wind to lull, in hope +that he might obtain a clearer view of his surroundings. +Before he again dared rise to his +feet, darkness swept down with tropical suddenness +and blurred out everything.</p> + +<p>The effect of the whiskey soon passed, and Winthrope +huddled between his companions, drenched +and exhausted. Though he could hear Miss Leslie +moaning, he was too miserable himself to +inquire whether he could do anything for her.</p> + +<p>Presently he became aware that the wind was +falling. The centre of the cyclone had passed +before the ship struck, and they were now in the +outermost circle of the vast whirlwind. With +the consciousness of this change for the better, +Winthrope’s fear-racked nerves relaxed, and he +fell into a heavy sleep.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class='h2fs'>WORSE THAN WILDERNESS</span></h2> + +<p>A wail from Miss Leslie roused the Englishman +out of a dream in which he had +been swimming for life across a sea of +boiling oil. He sat up and gazed about him, +half dazed. The cyclone had been followed by +a dead calm, and the sun, already well above the +horizon, was blazing upon them over the glassy +surfaces of the dying swells with fierce heat.</p> + +<p>Winthrope felt about for his hat. It had been +blown off when, at the striking of the steamer, +he had rushed up on deck. As he remembered, +he straightened, and looked at his companions. +Blake lay snoring where he had first outstretched +himself, sleeping the sleep of the just–and of +the drunkard. The girl, however, was already +awake. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, +while the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“My–ah–dear Miss Genevieve, what is the +matter?” exclaimed Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Matter? Do you ask, when we are here on +this wretched coast, and may not get away for +weeks? Oh, I did so count on the London season +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +this year! Lady Bayrose promised that I should +be among those presented.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I–ah–fancy, Lady Bayrose will do +no more presenting–unless it may be to the +heavenly choir, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what do you mean, Mr. Winthrope? +You told me that she and the maids had been put +in the largest boat–”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve, you must remember +that I am a diplomat. It was all quite sufficiently +harrowing, I assure you. They were, indeed, +put into the largest boat–Beastly muddle!–While +they waited for the mate to fetch you, +the boat was crushed alongside, and all in it +drowned.”</p> + +<p>“Drowned!–drowned! Oh, dear Lady Bayrose! +And she’d travelled so much–oh, oh, +it is horrible! Why did she persuade me to +visit the Cape? It was only to be with her–And +then for us to start off for India, when we +might have sailed straight to England! Oh, it +is horrible! horrible! And my maid, and all–It +cannot be possible!”</p> + +<p>“Pray, do not excite yourself, my dear Miss +Genevieve. Their troubles are all over. Er–Gawd +has taken them to Him, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But the pity of it! To be drowned–so far +from home!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span>“Ah, if that’s all you’re worrying about!–I +must say I’d like to know how we’ll get a snack +for breakfast. I’m hungry as a–er–groom.”</p> + +<p>“Eating! How can you think of eating, Mr. +Winthrope–and all the others drowned? This +sun is becoming dreadfully hot. It is unbearable! +Can you not put up some kind of an awning?”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, I must say, I was never much of +a hand at such things, and really I can’t imagine +what one could rig up. There might have been +a bit of sail in the boat, but one can’t see a sign +of it. I fancy it was smashed.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie ventured a glance at Blake. Though +still lying as he had sprawled in his drunkenness, +there was a comforting suggestion of power in +his broad shoulders and square jaw.</p> + +<p>“Is he still–in that condition?”</p> + +<p>“Must have slept it off by this time, and there’s +no more in the flask,” answered Winthrope. +Reaching over with his foot, he pushed against +Blake’s back.</p> + +<p>“Huh! All right,” grunted the sleeper, and +sat up, as had Winthrope, half dazed. Then he +stared around him, and rose to his feet. “Well, +what in hell! Say, this is damn cheerful!”</p> + +<p>“I fancy we are in a nasty fix. But I say, my +man, there is a woman present, and your language, +you know–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span>Blake turned and fixed the Englishman with a +cold stare.</p> + +<p>“Look here, you bloomin’ lud,” he said, “there’s +just one thing you’re going to understand, right +here and now. I’m not your man, and we’re +not going to have any of that kind of blatter. +Any fool can see we’re in a tight hole, and we’re +like to keep company for a while–probably +long as we last.”</p> + +<p>“What–ah–may I ask, do you mean by +that?”</p> + +<p>Blake laughed harshly, and pointed from the +reef-strewn sea to the vast stretches of desolate +marsh. Far inland, across miles of brackish lagoons +and reedy mud-flats, could be seen groups +of scrubby, half-leafless trees; ten or twelve +miles to the southward a rocky headland jutted +out into the water; otherwise there was nothing +in sight but sea and swamp. If it could not +properly be termed a sea-view, it was at least a +very wet landscape.</p> + +<p>“Fine prospect,” remarked Blake, dryly. “We’ll +be in luck if the fever don’t get the last of us inside +a month; and as for you two, you’d have as +much show of lasting a month as a toad with a +rattlesnake, if it wasn’t for Tom Blake,–that’s +my name–Tom Blake,–and as long as this +shindy lasts, you’re welcome to call me Tom or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +Blake, whichever suits. But understand, we’re +not going to have any more of your bloody, +bloomin’ English condescension. Aboard ship +you had the drop on me, and could pile on dog +till the cows came home. Here I’m Blake, and +you’re Winthrope.”</p> + +<p>“Believe me, Mr. Blake, I quite appreciate the–ah–situation. And now, I fancy that, instead +of wasting time–”</p> + +<p>“It’s about time you introduced me to the +lady,” interrupted Blake, and he stared at them +half defiantly, yet with a twinkle in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie flushed. Winthrope swore softly, +and bit his lip. Aboard ship, backed by Lady +Bayrose and the captain, he had goaded the +American at pleasure. Now, however, the situation +was reversed. Both title and authority had +been swept away by the storm, and he was left to +shift for himself against the man who had every +reason to hate him for his overbearing insolence. +Worse still, both he and Miss Leslie were now +dependent upon the American, in all probability +for life itself. It was a bitter pill and hard to +swallow.</p> + +<p>Blake was not slow to observe the Englishman’s +hesitancy. He grinned.</p> + +<p>“Every dog has his day, and I guess this is +mine,” he said. “Take your time, if it comes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +hard. I can imagine it’s a pretty stiff dose for +your ludship. But why in–why in frozen +hades an American lady should object to an +introduction to a countryman who’s going to do +his level best to save her pretty little self from +the hyenas–well, it beats me.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope flushed redder than the girl.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leslie, Mr. Blake,” he murmured, hoping +to put an end to the situation.</p> + +<p>But yet Blake persisted. He bowed, openly +exultant.</p> + +<p>“You see, Miss,” he said, “I know the correct +thing quite as much as your swells. I knew all +along you were Jenny Leslie. I ran a survey +for your dear papa when he was manipulating +the Q. T. Railroad, and he did me out of my +pay.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but Mr. Blake, I am sure it must be a +mistake; I am sure that if it is explained to +papa–”</p> + +<p>“Yes; we’ll cable papa to-night. Meantime, +we’ve something else to do. Suppose you two +get a hustle on yourselves, and scrape up something +to eat. I’m going out to see what’s left of +that blamed old tub.”</p> + +<p>“Surely you’ll not venture to swim out so +far!” protested Winthrope. “I saw the steamer +sink as we cast off.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span>“Looks like a mast sticking up out there. Maybe +some of the rigging is loose.”</p> + +<p>“But the sharks! These waters swarm with +the vile creatures. You must not risk your life!”</p> + +<p>“’Cause why? If I do, the babes in the +woods will be left without even the robins to +cover them, poor things! But cheer up!–maybe +the mud-hens will do it with lovely water-lilies.”</p> + +<p>“Please, Mr. Blake, do not be so cruel!” +sobbed Miss Leslie, her tears starting afresh. +“The sun makes my head ache dreadfully, and +I have no hat or shade, and I’m becoming so +thirsty!”</p> + +<p>“And you think you’ve only to wait, and half +a dozen stewards will come running with parasols +and ice water. Neither you nor Winthrope seem +to ’ve got your eyes open. Just suppose you get +busy and do something. Winthrope, chase yourself +over the mud, and get together a mess of fish +that are not too dead. Must be dozens, after the +blow. As for you, Miss Jenny, I guess you can +pick up some reeds, and rig a headgear out of +this handkerchief– Wait a moment. Put on +my coat, if you don’t want to be broiled alive +through the holes of that peek-a-boo.”</p> + +<p>“But I say, Blake–” began Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Don’t say–do!” rejoined Blake; and he +started down the muddy shore.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>Though the tide was at flood, there was now +no cyclone to drive the sea above the beach, and +Blake walked a quarter of a mile before he +reached the water’s edge. There was little surf, +and he paused only a few moments to peer out +across the low swells before he commenced to +strip.</p> + +<p>Winthrope and Miss Leslie had been watching +his movements; now the girl rose in a little flurry +of haste, and set to gathering reeds. Winthrope +would have spoken, but, seeing her embarrassment, +smiled to himself, and began strolling +about in search of fish.</p> + +<p>It was no difficult search. The marshy ground +was strewn with dead sea-creatures, many of +which were already shrivelling and drying in the +sun. Some of the fish had a familiar look, and +Winthrope turned them over with the tip of his +shoe. He even went so far as to stoop to pick up +a large mullet; but shrank back, repulsed by its +stiffness and the unnatural shape into which the +sun was warping it.</p> + +<p>He found himself near the beach, and stood for +half an hour or more watching the black dot far +out in the water,–all that was to be seen of +Blake. The American, after wading off-shore +another quarter of a mile, had reached swimming +depth, and was heading out among the reefs with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +steady, vigorous strokes. Half a mile or so +beyond him Winthrope could now make out the +goal for which he was aiming,–the one remaining +topmast of the steamer.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, these waters are full of sharks!” +murmured Winthrope, staring at the steadily receding +dot until it disappeared behind the wall of +surf which spumed up over one of the outer +reefs.</p> + +<p>A call from Miss Leslie interrupted his watch, +and he hastened to rejoin her. After several +failures, she had contrived to knot Blake’s handkerchief +to three or four reeds in the form of a +little sunshade. Her shoulders were protected +by Blake’s coat. It made a heavy wrap, but it +shut out the blistering sun-rays, which, as Blake +had foreseen, had quickly begun to burn the +girl’s delicate skin through her open-work bodice.</p> + +<p>Thus protected, she was fairly safe from the +sun. But the sun was by no means the worst +feature of the situation. While Winthrope was +yet several yards distant, the girl began to complain +to him. “I’m so thirsty, Mr. Winthrope! +Where is there any water? Please get me a +drink at once, Mr. Winthrope!”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear Miss Leslie, there is no water. +These pools are all sea-water. I must say, I’m +deuced dry myself. I can’t see why that cad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +should go off and leave us like this, when we +need him most.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, it is a shame–Oh, I’m so thirsty! +Do you think it would help if we ate something?”</p> + +<p>“Make it all the worse. Besides, how could +we cook anything? All these reeds are green, or +at least water-soaked.”</p> + +<p>“But Mr, Blake said to gather some fish. Had +you not best–”</p> + +<p>“He can pick up all he wants. I shall not +touch the beastly things.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose there is nothing to do but +wait for him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if the sharks do not get him.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie uttered a little moan, and Winthrope, +seeing that she was on the verge of tears, +hastened to reassure her. “Don’t worry about +him, Miss Genevieve! He’ll soon return, with +nothing worse than a blistered back. Fellows of +that sort are born to hang, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But if he should be–if anything should +happen to him!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope shrugged his shoulders, and drew +out his silver cigarette case. It was more than +half full, and he was highly gratified to find that +neither the cigarettes nor the vesta matches in +the cover had been reached by the wet.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, here’s luck!” he exclaimed, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +bowed to Miss Leslie. “Pardon me, but if you +have no objections–”</p> + +<p>The girl nodded as a matter of form, and Winthrope +hastened to light the cigarette already in +his fingers. The smoke by no means tended to +lessen the dryness of his mouth; yet it put him +in a reflective mood, and in thinking over what +he had read of shipwrecked parties, he remembered +that a pebble held in the mouth is supposed +to ease one’s thirst.</p> + +<p>To be sure, there was not a sign of a pebble +within miles of where they sat; but after some +reflection, it occurred to him that one of his steel +keys might do as well. At first Miss Leslie was +reluctant to try the experiment, and only the +increasing dryness of her mouth forced her to +seek the promised relief. Though it failed to +quench her thirst, she was agreeably surprised +to find that the little flat bar of metal eased her +craving to a marked degree.</p> + +<p>Winthrope now thought to rig a shade as Miss +Leslie had done, out of reeds and his handkerchief, +for the sun was scorching his unprotected +head. Thus sheltered, the two crouched as comfortably +as they could upon the half-dried crest +of the hummock, and waited impatiently for the +return of Blake.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE WORTH OF FIRE</span></h2> + +<p>Though the sea within the reefs was fast +smoothing to a glassy plain in the dead +calm, they did not see Blake on his return +until he struck shallow water and stood up +to wade ashore. The tide had begun to ebb +before he started landward, and though he was a +powerful swimmer, the long pull against the current +had so tired him that when he took to wading +he moved at a tortoise-like gait.</p> + +<p>“The bloomin’ loafer!” commented Winthrope. +He glanced quickly about, and at sight of Miss +Leslie’s arching brows, hastened to add: “Beg +pardon! He–ah–reminds me so much of a +navvy, you know.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie made no reply.</p> + +<p>At last Blake was out of the water and toiling +up the muddy beach to the spot where he had +left his clothes. While dressing he seemed to +recover from his exertions in the water, for the +moment he had finished, he sprang to his feet and +came forward at a brisk pace.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span>As he approached, Winthrope waved his fifth +cigarette at him with languid enthusiasm, and +called out as heartily as his dry lips would +permit: “I say, Blake, deuced glad the sharks +didn’t get you!”</p> + +<p>“Sharks?–bah! All you have to do is to +splash a little, and they haul off.”</p> + +<p>“How about the steamer, Mr. Blake?” asked +Miss Leslie, turning to face him.</p> + +<p>“All under but the maintopmast–curse it!–wire +rigging at that! Couldn’t even get a +bolt.”</p> + +<p>“A bolt?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bolt; and here we are as good as naked +on this infernal– Hey, you! what you doing +with that match? Light your cigarette–light +it!– Damnation!”</p> + +<p>Heedless of Blake’s warning cry, Winthrope +had struck his last vesta, and now, angry and +bewildered, he stood staring while the little taper +burned itself out. With an oath, Blake sprang to +catch it as it dropped from between Winthrope’s +fingers. But he was too far away. It fell among +the damp rushes, spluttered, and flared out.</p> + +<p>For a moment Blake knelt, staring at the +rushes as though stupefied; then he sprang up +before Winthrope, his bronzed face purple with +anger.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span>“Where’s your matchbox? Got any more?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Last one, I fancy–yes; last one, and there +are still two cigarettes. But look here, Blake, I +can’t tolerate your talking so deucedly–”</p> + +<p>“You idiot! you–you– Hell! and every +one for cigarettes!”</p> + +<p>From a growl Blake’s voice burst into a roar +of fury, and he sprang upon Winthrope like a +wild beast. His hands closed upon the Englishman’s +throat, and he began to shake him about, +paying no heed to the blows his victim showered +upon his face and body, blows which soon began +to lessen in force.</p> + +<p>Terror-stricken, Miss Leslie put her hands over +her eyes, and began to scream–the piercing +shriek that will unnerve the strongest man. +Blake paused as though transfixed, and as the +half-suffocated Englishman struggled in his grasp, +he flung him on the ground, and turned to the +screaming girl.</p> + +<p>“Stop that squawking!” he said. The girl +cowed down. “So; that’s better. Next time +keep your mouth shut.”</p> + +<p>“You–you brute!”</p> + +<p>“Good! You’ve got a little spunk, eh?”</p> + +<p>“You coward–to attack a man not half your +strength!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span>“Steady, steady, young lady! I’m warm +enough yet; I’ve still half a mind to wring his +fool neck.”</p> + +<p>“But why should you be so angry! What +has he done, that you–”</p> + +<p>“Why–why? Lord! what hasn’t he done! +This coast fairly swarms with beasts. We’ve +not the smell of a gun; and now this idiot–this +dough-head–has gone and thrown away +our only chance–fire–and on his measly +cigarettes!” Blake choked with returning +rage.</p> + +<p>Winthrope, still panting for breath, began to +creep away, at the same time unclasping a small +penknife. He was white with fear; but his gray +eyes–which on shipboard Blake had never seen +other than offensively supercilious–now glinted +in a manner that served to alter the American’s +mood.</p> + +<p>“That’ll do,” he said. “Come here and show +me that knife.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll show it you where it will do the most +good,” muttered Winthrope, rising hastily to +repel the expected attack.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve got a little sand, too,” said Blake, +almost good-naturedly. “Say, that’s not so bad. +We’ll call it quits on the matches. Though how +you could go and throw them away–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span>“Deuce take it, man! How should I know? +I’ve never before been in a wreck.”</p> + +<p>“Neither have I–this kind. But I tell you, +we’ve got to keep our think tanks going. It’s a +guess if we see to-morrow, and that’s no joke. +Now do you wonder I got hot?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no! I’ve been an ass, and here’s my +hand to it–if you really mean it’s quits.”</p> + +<p>“It’s quits all right, long as you don’t run out +of sand,” responded Blake, and he gripped the +other’s soft hand until the Englishman winced. +“So; that’s settled. I’ve got a hot temper, but +I don’t hold grudges. Now, where’re your +fish?”</p> + +<p>“I–well, they were all spoiled.”</p> + +<p>“Spoiled?”</p> + +<p>“The sun had shrivelled them.”</p> + +<p>“And you call that spoiled! We’re like to eat +them rotten before we’re through with this picnic. +How about the pools?”</p> + +<p>“Pools? Do you know, Blake, I never thought +of the pools. I stopped to watch you, and then +we were so anxious about you–”</p> + +<p>Blake grunted, and turned on his heel to wade +into the half-drained pool in whose midst he had +been deposited by the hurricane.</p> + +<p>Two or three small fish lay faintly wriggling +on the surface. As Blake splashed through the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +water to seize them, his foot struck against a living +body which floundered violently and flashed +a brilliant forked tail above the muddy water. +Blake sprang over the fish, which was entangled +in the reeds, and with a kick, flung it clear out +upon the ground.</p> + +<p>“A coryphene!” cried Winthrope, and he +ran forward to stare at the gorgeously colored +prize.</p> + +<p>“Coryphene?” repeated Blake, following his +example. “Good to eat?”</p> + +<p>“Fine as salmon. This is only a small one, +but–”</p> + +<p>“Fifteen pounds, if an ounce!” cried Blake, +and he thrust his hand in his pocket. There was +a moment’s silence, and Winthrope, glancing up, +saw the other staring in blank dismay.</p> + +<p>“What’s up!” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Lost my knife.”</p> + +<p>“When?–in the pool? If we felt about–”</p> + +<p>“No; aboard ship, or in the surf–”</p> + +<p>“Here is my knife.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; almost big enough to whittle a match! +Mine would have done us some good.”</p> + +<p>“It is the best steel.”</p> + +<p>“All right; let’s see you cut up the fish.”</p> + +<p>“But you know, Blake, I shouldn’t know how +to go about it. I never did such a thing.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>“And you, Miss Jenny? Girls are supposed +to know about cooking.”</p> + +<p>“I never cooked anything in all my life, Mr. +Blake, and it’s alive,–and–and I am very +thirsty, Mr. Blake!”</p> + +<p>“Lord!” commented Blake. “Give me that +knife.”</p> + +<p>Though the blade was so small, the American’s +hand was strong. After some little haggling, the +coryphene was killed and dressed. Blake washed +both it and his hands in the pool, and began to +cut slices of flesh from the fish’s tail.</p> + +<p>“We have no fire,” Winthrope reminded him, +flushing at the word.</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” assented Blake, in a cheerful +tone, and he offered Winthrope two of the pieces +of raw flesh. “Here’s your breakfast. The +trimmed piece is for Miss Leslie.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s raw! Really, I could not think of +eating raw fish. Could you, Miss Leslie?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie shuddered. “Oh, no!–and I’m +so thirsty I could not eat anything.”</p> + +<p>“You bet you can!” replied Blake. “Both +of you take that fish, and go to chewing. It’s +the stuff to ease your thirst while we look for +water. Good Lord!–in a week you’ll be glad +to eat raw snake. Finnicky over clean fish, +when you swallow canvas-back all but raw, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +beef running blood, and raw oysters with their +stomachs full of disintegrated animal matter, to +put it politely! You couldn’t tell rattlesnake +broth from chicken, and dog makes first-rate veal–when you’ve got to eat it. I’ve had it straight +from them that know, that over in France they +eat snails and fish-worms. It’s all a matter of +custom or the style.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, the Japanese eat raw fish,” admitted +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Yes; and you’d swallow your share of it if +you had an invite to a swell dinner in Tokio. +Go on now, both of you. It’s no joke, I tell you. +You’ve got to eat, if you expect to get to water +before night. Understand? See that headland +south? Well, it’s a hundred to one we’ll not +find water short of there, and if we make it by +night, we’ll be doing better than I figure from +the look of these bogs. Now go to chewing. +That’s it! That’s fine, Miss Jenny!”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie had forced herself to take a nibble +of the raw fish. The flavor proved less repulsive +than she had expected, and its moisture was so +grateful to her parched mouth that she began to +eat with eagerness. Not to be outdone, Winthrope +promptly followed her lead. Blake had +already cut himself a second slice. After he had +cut more for his companions, he began to look +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +them over with a closeness that proved embarrassing +to Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Here’s more of the good stuff,” he said. +“While you’re chewing it, we’ll sort of take +stock. Everybody shell out everything. Here’s +my outfit–three shillings, half a dozen poker +chips, and not another blessed– Say, what’s +become of that whiskey flask? Have you seen +my flask?”</p> + +<p>“Here it is, right beside me, Mr. Blake,” answered +Miss Leslie. “But it is empty.”</p> + +<p>“Might be worse! What you got?–hair-pins, +watch? No pocket, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“None; and no watch. Even most of my +pins are gone,” replied the girl, and she raised +her hand to her loosely coiled hair.</p> + +<p>“Well, hold on to what you’ve got left. +They may come in for fish-hooks. Let’s see +your shoes.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie slowly thrust a slender little foot +just beyond the hem of her draggled white skirt.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” groaned Blake, “slippers, and +high heels at that! How do you expect to walk +in those things?”</p> + +<p>“I can at least try,” replied the girl, with +spirit.</p> + +<p>“Hobble! Pass ’em over here, Winnie, my +boy.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span>The slippers were handed over. Blake took +one after the other, and wrenched off the heel +close to its base.</p> + +<p>“Now you’ve at least got a pair of slippers,” +he said, tossing them back to their owner. “Tie +them on tight with a couple of your ribbons, if +you don’t want to lose them in the mud. Now, +Winthrope, what you got beside the knife?”</p> + +<p>Winthrope held out a bunch of long flat keys +and his cigarette case. He opened the latter, and +was about to throw away the two remaining cigarettes +when Blake grasped his wrist.</p> + +<p>“Hold on! even they may come in for something. +We’ll at least keep them until we need +the case.”</p> + +<p>“And the keys!”</p> + +<p>“Make arrow-heads, if we can get fire.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard of savages making fire by rubbing +wood.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and we’re a long way from being savages,–at +present. All the show we have is to +find some kind of quartz or flint, and the sooner +we start to look the better. Got your slippers +tied, Miss Jenny?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I think they’ll do.”</p> + +<p>“Think! It’s knowing’s the thing. Here, +let me look.”</p> + +<p>The girl shrank back; but Blake stooped and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +examined first one slipper and then the other. +The ribbons about both were tied in dainty bows. +Blake jerked them loose and twisted them firmly +over and under the slippers and about the girl’s +slender ankles before knotting the ends.</p> + +<p>“There; that’s more like. You’re not going +to a dance,” he growled.</p> + +<p>He thrust the empty whiskey flask into his hip +pocket, and went back to pass a sling of reeds +through the gills of the coryphene.</p> + +<p>“All ready now,” he called. “Let’s get a +move on. Keep my coat closer about your +shoulders, Miss Jenny, and keep your shade up, +if you don’t want a sunstroke.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Blake, I’ll see to that,” said +Winthrope. “I’m going to help Miss Leslie +along. I’ve fastened our two shades together, +so that they will answer for both of us.”</p> + +<p>“How about yourself, Mr. Blake?” inquired +the girl. “Do you not find the sun fearfully +hot?”</p> + +<p>“Sure; but I wet my head in the sea, and +here’s another souse.”</p> + +<p>As he rose with dripping head from beside the +pool, he slung the coryphene on his back, and +started off without further words.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A JOURNEY IN DESOLATION</span></h2> + +<p>Morning was well advanced, and the +sun beat down upon the three with +almost overpowering fierceness. The +heat would have rendered their thirst unendurable +had not Blake hacked off for them bit after bit of +the moist coryphene flesh.</p> + +<p>In a temperate climate, ten miles over firm +ground is a pleasant walk for one accustomed to +the exercise. Quite a different matter is ten miles +across mud-flats, covered with a tangle of reeds +and rushes, and frequently dipping into salt +marsh and ooze. Before they had gone a mile +Miss Leslie would have lost her slippers had it +not been for Blake’s forethought in tying them so +securely. Within a little more than three miles +the girl’s strength began to fail.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Blake,” called Winthrope, for the American +was some yards in the lead, “pull up a bit +on that knoll. We’ll have to rest a while, I +fancy. Miss Leslie is about pegged.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span>“What’s that?” demanded Blake. “We’re +not half-way yet!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope did not reply. It was all he could +do to drag the girl up on the hummock. She +sank, half-fainting, upon the dry reeds, and he +sat down beside her to protect her with the shade. +Blake stared at the miles of swampy flats which +yet lay between them and the out-jutting headland +of gray rock. The base of the cliff was +screened by a belt of trees; but the nearest +clump of green did not look more than a mile +nearer than the headland.</p> + +<p>“Hell!” muttered Blake, despondently. “Not +even a short four miles. Mush and sassiety +girls!”</p> + +<p>Though he spoke to himself, the others heard +him. Miss Leslie flushed, and would have risen +had not Winthrope put his hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>“Could you not go on, and bring back a flask +of water for Miss Leslie?” he asked. “By that +time she will be rested.”</p> + +<p>“No; I don’t fetch back any flasks of water. +She’s going when I go, or you can come on to +suit yourselves.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake, you–you won’t go, and leave me +here! If you have a sister–if your mother–”</p> + +<p>“She died of drink, and both my sisters did +worse.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span>“My God, man! do you mean to say you’ll +abandon a helpless young girl?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit more helpless than were my sisters +when you rich folks’ guardians of law and order +jugged me for the winter, ’cause I didn’t have a +job, and turned both girls into the street–onto +the street, if you know what that means–one +only sixteen and the other seventeen. Talk about +helpless young girls– Damnation!”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie cringed back as though she had +been struck. Blake, however, seemed to have +vented his anger in the curse, for when he again +spoke, there was nothing more than impatience +in his tone. “Come on, now; get aboard. Winthrope +couldn’t lug you a half-mile, and long’s +it’s the only way, don’t be all day about it. +Here, Winthrope, look to the fish.”</p> + +<p>“But, my dear fellow, I don’t quite take your +idea, nor does Miss Leslie, I fancy,” ventured +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ve got to get to water, or die; and +as the lady can’t walk, she’s going on my back. +It’s a case of have-to.”</p> + +<p>“No! I am not–I am not! I’d sooner die!”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll find that easy enough, later +on, Miss Jenny. Stand by, Winthrope, to help +her up. Do you hear? Take the knife and fish, +and lend a hand.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>There was a note in Blake’s voice that neither +Winthrope nor Miss Leslie dared disregard. +Though scarlet with mortification, she permitted +herself to be taken pick-a-back upon Blake’s broad +shoulders, and meekly obeyed his command to +clasp her hands about his throat. Yet even at +that moment, such are the inconsistencies of human +nature, she could not but admire the ease +with which he rose under her weight.</p> + +<p>Now that he no longer had the slow pace of the +girl to consider, he advanced at his natural gait, +the quick, tireless stride of an American railroad-surveyor. +His feet, trained to swamp travel in +Louisiana and Panama, seemed to find the firmest +ground as by instinct, and whether on the half-dried +mud of the hummocks or in the ankle-deep +water of the bogs, they felt their way without +slip or stumble.</p> + +<p>Winthrope, though burdened only with the +half-eaten coryphene, toiled along behind, greatly +troubled by the mud and the tangled reeds, and +now and then flung down by some unlucky misstep. +His modish suit, already much damaged +by the salt water, was soon smeared afresh with +a coating of greenish slime. His one consolation +was that Blake, after jeering at his first tumble, +paid no more attention to him. On the other +hand, he was cut by the seeming indifference +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +of Miss Leslie. Intent on his own misery, he +failed to consider that the girl might be suffering +far greater discomfort and humiliation.</p> + +<p>More than three miles had been covered before +Blake stopped on a hummock. Releasing Miss +Leslie, he stretched out on the dry crest of the +knoll, and called for a slice of the fish. At his +urging, the others took a few mouthfuls, although +their throats were now so parched that even the +moist flesh afforded scant relief. Fortunately for +them all, Blake had been thoroughly trained to +endure thirst. He rested less than ten minutes; +then, taking Miss Leslie up again like a rag doll, +he swung away at a good pace.</p> + +<p>The trees were less than half a mile distant +when he halted for the second time. He would +have gone to them without a pause though his +muscles were quivering with exhaustion, had not +Miss Leslie chanced to look around and discover +that Winthrope was no longer following them. +For the last mile he had been lagging farther and +farther behind, and now he had suddenly disappeared. +At the girl’s dismayed exclamation, +Blake released his hold, and she found herself +standing in a foot or more of mud and water. +The sweat was streaming down Blake’s face. +As he turned around, he wiped it off with his +shirtsleeves.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span>“Do you–can it be, Mr. Blake, that he has +had a sunstroke?” asked Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Sunstroke? No; he’s just laid down, that’s +all. I thought he had more sand–confound +him!”</p> + +<p>“But the sun is so dreadfully hot, and I have +his shade.”</p> + +<p>“And he’s been tumbling into every other +pool. No; it’s not the sun. I’ve half a mind +to let him lie–the paper-legged swell! It +would no more than square our aboard-ship +accounts.”</p> + +<p>“Surely, you would not do that, Mr. Blake! +It may be that he has hurt himself in falling.”</p> + +<p>“In this mud?–bah! But I guess I’m in +for the pack-mule stunt all around. Now, now; +don’t yowl, Miss Jenny. I’m going. But you +can’t expect me to love the snob.”</p> + +<p>As he splashed away on the return trail, Miss +Leslie dabbed at her eyes to check the starting +tears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear–Oh, dear!” she moaned; “what +have I done, to be so treated? Such a brute, +Oh, dear!–and I am so thirsty!”</p> + +<p>In her despair she would have sunk down +where she stood had not the sliminess of the +water repelled her. She gazed longingly at the +trees, in the fore of which stood a grove of stately +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +palms. The half-mile seemed an insuperable distance, +but the ride on Blake’s back had rested +her, and thirst goaded her forward.</p> + +<p>Stumbling and slipping, she waded on across +the inundated ground, and came out upon a half-baked +mud-flat, where the walking was much +easier. But the sun was now almost directly +overhead, and between her thirst and the heat, +she soon found herself faltering. She tottered on +a few steps farther, and then stopped, utterly +spent As she sank upon the dried rushes, she +glanced around, and was vaguely conscious of a +strange, double-headed figure following her path +across the marsh. All about her became black.</p> + +<p>The next she knew, Blake was splashing her +head and face with brackish water out of the +whiskey flask. She raised her hand to shield her +face, and sat up, sick and dizzy.</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” said Blake. He spoke in a +kindly tone, though his voice was harsh and +broken with thirst. “You’re all right now. +Pull yourself together, and we’ll get to the trees +in a jiffy.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winthrope–?”</p> + +<p>“I’m here, Miss Genevieve. It was only a +wrenched ankle. If I had a stick, Blake, I fancy +I could make a go of it over this drier ground.”</p> + +<p>“And lay yourself up for a month. Come, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +Miss Jenny, brace up for another try. It’s only +a quarter-mile, and I’ve got to pack him.”</p> + +<p>The girl was gasping with thirst; yet she made +an effort, and assisted by Blake managed to gain +her feet. She was still dizzy; but as Blake +swung Winthrope upon his back, he told her to +take hold of his arm. Winthrope held the shade +over her head. Thus assisted, and sheltered +from the direct beat of the sun-rays, she tottered +along beside Blake, half unconscious.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the remaining distance lay across +a stretch of bare dry ground, for even Blake had +all but reached the limit of endurance. Step by +step he labored on, staggering under the weight +of the Englishman, and gasping with a thirst +which his exertions rendered even greater than +that of his companions. But through the trees +and brush which stretched away inland in a wall +of verdure he had caught glimpses of a broad +stream, and the hope of fresh water called out +every ounce of his reserve strength.</p> + +<p>At last the nearest palm was only a few paces +distant. Blake clutched Miss Leslie’s arm, and +dragged her forward with a rush, in a final outburst +of energy. A moment later all three lay +gasping in the shade. But the river was yet +another hundred yards distant. Blake waited +only to regain his breath; then he staggered up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +and went on. The others, unable to rise, gazed +after him in silent misery.</p> + +<p>Soon Blake found himself rushing through the +jungle along a broad trail pitted with enormous +footprints; but he was so near mad with thirst +that he paid no heed to the spoor other than to +curse the holes for the trouble they gave him. +Suddenly the trail turned to the left and sloped +down a low bank into the river. Blind to all +else, Blake ran down the slope, and dropping +upon his knees, plunged his head into the water.</p> + +<p>At first his throat was so dry that he could no +more than rinse his mouth. With the first swallow, +his swollen tongue mocked him with the salt, +bitter taste of sea-water. The tide was flowing! +He rose, sputtering and choking and gasping. He +stared around. There was no question that he +was on the bank of a river and would be certain +of fresh water with the ebb tide. But could he +endure the agony of his thirst all those hours?</p> + +<p>He thought of his companions.</p> + +<p>“Good God!” he groaned, “they’re goners +anyway!”</p> + +<p>He stared dully up the river at the thousands +of waterfowl which lined its banks. Within close +view were herons and black ibises, geese, pelicans, +flamingoes, and a dozen other species of +birds of which he did not know the names. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +he sat as though in a stupor, and did not move +even when one of the driftwood logs on a mud-shoal +a few yards up-stream opened an enormous +mouth and displayed two rows of hooked fangs. +It was otherwise when the noontime stillness was +broken by a violent splashing and loud snortings +down-stream. He glanced about, and saw six or +eight monstrous heads drifting towards him with +the tide.</p> + +<p>“What in– Whee! a whole herd of hippos!” +he muttered. “That’s what the holes +mean.”</p> + +<p>The foremost hippopotamus was headed directly +for him. He glared at the huge head with +sullen resentment. For all his stupor, he perceived +at once that the beast intended to land; +and he sat in the middle of its accustomed path. +His first impulse was to spring up and yell at the +creature. Then he remembered hearing that a +white hunter had recently been killed by these +beasts on one of the South African lakes. Instead +of leaping up, he sank down almost flat, and +crawled back around the turn in the path. Once +certain that he was hidden from the beasts, he rose +to his feet and hastened back through the jungle.</p> + +<p>He was almost in view of the spot where he +had left Winthrope and Miss Leslie, when he +stopped and stood hesitating.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span>“I can’t do it,” he muttered; “I can’t tell +her,–poor girl!”</p> + +<p>He turned and pushed into the thicket. Forcing +a way through the tangle of thorny shrubs +and creepers, until several yards from the path, +he began to edge towards the face of the jungle, +that he might peer out at his companions, unseen +by them.</p> + +<p>There was more of the thicket before him than +he had thought, and he was still fighting his way +through it, when he was brought to a stand by a +peculiar cry that might have been the bleat of a +young lamb: “Ba–ba!”</p> + +<p>“What’s that!” he croaked.</p> + +<p>He stood listening, and in a moment he again +heard the cry, this time more distinctly: “Blak!–Blak!”</p> + +<p>There could be no mistake. It was Winthrope +calling for him, and calling with a clearness of +voice that would have been physically impossible +half an hour since. Blake’s sunken eyes lighted +with hope. He burst through the last screen of +jungle, and stared towards the palm under which +he had left his companions. They were not +there.</p> + +<p>Another call from Winthrope directed his gaze +more seaward. The two were seated beside a +fallen palm, and Miss Leslie had a large round +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +object raised to her lips. Winthrope was waving +to him.</p> + +<p>“Cocoanuts!” he yelled. “Come on!”</p> + +<p>Three of the palms had been overthrown by +the hurricane, and when Blake came up, he found +the ground strewn with nuts. He seized the first +he came to; but Winthrope held out one already +opened. He snatched it from him, and placed +the hole to his swollen lips. Never had champagne +tasted half so delicious as that cocoanut +milk. Before he could drain the last of it +through the little opening, Winthrope had the +husks torn from the ends of two other nuts, and +the convenient germinal spots gouged open with +his penknife.</p> + +<p>Blake emptied the third before he spoke. +Even then his voice was hoarse and strained. +“How’d you strike ’em?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help it,” explained Winthrope. +“Hardly had you disappeared when I noticed +the tops of the fallen palms, and thought of the +nuts. There was one in the grass not twenty +feet from where we lay.”</p> + +<p>“Lucky for you–and for me, too, I guess,” +said Blake. “We were all three down for the +count. But this settles the first round in our +favor. How do you like the picnic, Miss +Jenny?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span>“Miss Leslie, if you please,” replied the girl, +with hauteur.</p> + +<p>“Oh, say, Miss Jenny!” protested Blake, +genially. “We live in the same boarding-house +now. Why not be folksy? You’re free to call +me Tom. Pass me another nut, Winthrope. +Thanks! By the way, what’s your front name? +Saw it aboard ship–Cyril–”</p> + +<p>“Cecil,” corrected Winthrope, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>“Cecil–Lord Cecil, eh?–or is it only The +Honorable Cecil?”</p> + +<p>“My dear sir, I have intimated before that, +for reasons of–er–State–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; you’re travelling incog., in the +secret service. Sort of detective–”</p> + +<p>“Detective!” echoed Winthrope, in a peculiar +tone.</p> + +<p>Blake grinned. “Well, it is rawther a nawsty +business for your honorable ludship. But there’s +nothing like calling things by their right names.”</p> + +<p>“Right names–er–I don’t quite take you. +I have told you distinctly, my name is Cecil +Winthrope!”</p> + +<p>“O-h-h! how lovely!–See-sill! See-seal!–Bet +they called you Sissy at school. English, +chum of mine told me your schools are corkers +for nicknames. What’ll we make it–Sis or +Sissy?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span>“I prefer my patronymic, Mr. Blake,” replied +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“All right, then; we’ll make it Pat, if that’s +your choice. I say, Pat, this juice is the stuff +for wetness, but it makes a fellow remember his +grub. Where’d you leave that fish?”</p> + +<p>“Really, I can’t just say, but it must have +been where I wrenched my ankle.”</p> + +<p>“You cawn’t just say! And what are we +going to eat?”</p> + +<p>“Here are the cocoanuts.”</p> + +<p>“Bright boy! go to the head of the class! +Just take some more husk off those empty ones.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope caught up one of the nuts, and with +the aid of his knife, stripped it of its husk. At a +gesture from Blake, he laid it on the bare ground, +and the American burst it open with a blow of +his heel. It was an immature nut, and the meat +proved to be little thicker than clotted cream. +Blake divided it into three parts, handing Miss +Leslie the cleanest.</p> + +<p>Though his companions began with more restraint, +they finished their shares with equal +gusto. Winthrope needed no further orders to +return to his husking. One after another, the +nuts were cracked and divided among the three, +until even Blake could not swallow another +mouthful of the luscious cream.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span>Toward the end Miss Leslie had become +drowsy. At Winthrope’s urging, she now lay +down for a nap, Blake’s coat serving as a pillow. +She fell asleep while Winthrope was yet arranging +it for her. Blake had turned his back on her, +and was staring moodily at the hippopotamus +trail, when Winthrope hobbled around and sat +down on the palm trunk beside him.</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake,” he suggested, “I feel deuced +fagged myself. Why not all take a nap?”</p> + +<p>“‘And when they awoke, they were all dead +men,’” remarked Blake.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, that sounds like a joke,” protested +the Englishman. “Don’t rag me now.”</p> + +<p>“Joke!” repeated Blake. “Why, that’s +Scripture, Pat, Scripture! Anyway, you’d think +it no joke to wake up and find yourself going +down the throat of a hippo.”</p> + +<p>“Hippo?”</p> + +<p>“Dozens of them over in the river. Shouldn’t +wonder if they’ve all landed, and ’re tracking me +down by this time.”</p> + +<p>“But hippopotami are not carnivorous–they’re +not at all dangerous, unless one wounds them, +out in the water.”</p> + +<p>“That may be; but I’m not taking chances. +They’ve got mouths like sperm whales–I saw +one take a yawn. Another thing, that bayou is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +chuck full of alligators, and a fellow down on the +Rand told me they’re like the Central American +gavials for keenness to nip a swimmer.”</p> + +<p>“They will not come out on this dry land.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose they won’t–there’re no other animals +in Africa but sheep, eh?”</p> + +<p>“What can we do? The captain told me that +there are both lions and leopards on this coast.”</p> + +<p>“Nice place for them, too, around these trees,” +added Blake. “Lucky for us, they’re night-birds +mostly,–if that Rand fellow didn’t lie. +He was a Boer, so I guess he ought to know.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure. It’s a nasty fix we’re in for +to-night. Could we not build some kind of a +barricade?”</p> + +<p>“With a penknife! Guess we’ll roost in a +tree.”</p> + +<p>“But cannot leopards climb? It seems to me +that I have heard–”</p> + +<p>“How about lions?”</p> + +<p>“They cannot; I’m sure of that.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll chance the leopards. Just stretch +out here, and nurse that ankle of yours. I don’t +want to be lugging you all year. I’m going to +hunt a likely tree.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE RE-ASCENT OF MAN</span></h2> + +<p>Afternoon was far advanced, and Winthrope +was beginning to feel anxious, +when at last Blake pushed out from +among the close thickets. As he approached, he +swung an unshapely club of green wood, pausing +every few paces to test its weight and balance +on a bush or knob of dirt.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” called Winthrope; “that’s not half +bad! You look as if you could bowl over an ox.”</p> + +<p>Blake showed that he was flattered.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” he responded; “the +thing’s blamed unhandy. Just the same, I guess +we’ll be ready for callers to-night.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Show you later, Pat, me b’y. Now trot out +some nuts. We’ll feed before we move camp.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Leslie is still sleeping.”</p> + +<p>“Time, then, to roust her out. Hey, Miss +Jenny, turn out! Time to chew.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie sat up and gazed around in bewilderment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>“It’s all right, Miss Genevieve,” reassured Winthrope. +“Blake has found a safe place for the +night, and he wishes us to eat before we leave here.”</p> + +<p>“Save lugging the grub,” added Blake. “Get +busy, Pat.”</p> + +<p>As Winthrope caught up a nut, the girl began +to arrange her disordered hair and dress with the +deft and graceful movements of a woman thoroughly +trained in the art of self-adornment. +There was admiration in Blake’s deep eyes as he +watched her dainty preening. She was not a +beautiful girl–at present she could hardly be +termed pretty; yet even in her draggled, muddy +dress she retained all the subtle charms of culture +which appeal so strongly to a man. Blake was +subdued. His feelings even carried him so far as +an attempt at formal politeness, when they had +finished their meal.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Leslie,” he began, “it’s little more +than half an hour to sundown; so, if you please, +if you’re quite ready, we’d best be starting.”</p> + +<p>“Is it far?”</p> + +<p>“Not so very. But we’ve got to chase through +the jungle. Are you sure you’re quite ready?”</p> + +<p>“Quite, thank you. But how about Mr. Winthrope’s +ankle?”</p> + +<p>“He’ll ride as far as the trees. I can’t squeeze +through with him, though.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span>“I shall walk all the way,” put in Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“No, you won’t. Climb aboard,” replied +Blake, and catching up his club, he stooped +for Winthrope to mount his back. As he rose +with his burden, Miss Leslie caught sight of +his coat, which still lay in a roll beside the palm +trunk.</p> + +<p>“How about your coat, Mr. Blake?” she +asked. “Should you not put it on?”</p> + +<p>“No; I’m loaded now. Have to ask you to +look after it. You may need it before morning, +anyway. If the dews here are like those in +Central America, they are d-darned liable to +bring on malarial fever.”</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said until they had crossed +the open space between the palms and the belt of +jungle along the river. At other times Winthrope +and Miss Leslie might have been interested +in the towering screw-palms, festooned to +the top with climbers, and in the huge ferns +which they could see beneath the mangroves, in +the swampy ground on their left. Now, however, +they were far too concerned with the question +of how they should penetrate the dense +tangle of thorny brush and creepers which rose +before them like a green wall. Even Blake hesitated +as he released Winthrope, and looked at +Miss Leslie’s costume. Her white skirt was of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +stout duck; but the flimsy material of her waist +was ill-suited for rough usage.</p> + +<p>“Better put the coat on, unless you want to +come out on the other side in full evening dress,” +he said. “There’s no use kicking; but I wish +you’d happened to have on some sort of a jacket +when we got spilled.”</p> + +<p>“Is there no path through the thicket?” inquired +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Only the hippo trail, and it don’t go our way. +We’ve got to run our own line. Here’s a stick +for your game ankle.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope took the half-green branch which +Blake broke from the nearest tree, and turned to +assist Miss Leslie with the coat. The garment +was of such coarse cloth that as Winthrope drew +the collar close about her throat Miss Leslie +could not forego a little grimace of repugnance. +The crease between Blake’s eyes deepened, and +the girl hastened to utter an explanatory exclamation: +“Not so tight, Mr. Winthrope, please! +It scratches my neck.”</p> + +<p>“You’d find those thorns a whole lot worse,” +muttered Blake.</p> + +<p>“To be sure; and Miss Leslie fully appreciates +your kindness,” interposed Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“I do indeed, Mr. Blake! I’m sure I never +could go through here without your coat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span>“That’s all right. Got the handkerchief?”</p> + +<p>“I put it in one of the pockets.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll do to tie up your hair.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie took the suggestion, knotting the +big square of linen over her fluffy brown hair.</p> + +<p>Blake waited only for her to draw out the +kerchief, before he began to force a way through +the jungle. Now and then he beat at the tangled +vegetation with his club. Though he held to the +line by which he had left the thicket, yet all his +efforts failed to open an easy passage for the +others. Many of the thorny branches sprang +back into place behind him, and as Miss Leslie, +who was the first to follow, sought to thrust them +aside, the thorns pierced her delicate skin, until +her hands were covered with blood. Nor did +Winthrope, stumbling and hobbling behind her, +fare any better. Twice he tripped headlong into +the brush, scratching his arms and face.</p> + +<p>Blake took his own punishment as a matter of +course, though his tougher and thicker skin made +his injuries less painful. He advanced steadily +along the line of bent and broken twigs that +marked his outward passage, until the thicket +opened on a strip of grassy ground beneath a +wild fig-tree.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” exclaimed Winthrope, “a +banyan!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>“Banyan? Well, if that’s British for a daisy, +you’ve hit it,” responded Blake. “Just take a +squint up here. How’s that for a roost?”</p> + +<p>Winthrope and Miss Leslie stared up dubiously +at the edge of a bed of reeds gathered in the +hollow of one of the huge flattened branches at +its junction with the main trunk of the banyan, +twenty feet above them.</p> + +<p>“Will not the mosquitoes pester us, here +among the trees?” objected Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Storm must have blown ’em away. I haven’t +seen any yet.”</p> + +<p>“There will be millions after sunset.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe; but I bet they keep below our roost”</p> + +<p>“But how are we to get up so high?” inquired +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“I can swarm this drop root, and I’ve a creeper +ready for you two,” explained Blake.</p> + +<p>Suiting action to words, he climbed up the +small trunk of the air root, and swung over into +the hollow where he had piled the reeds. Across +the broad limb dangled a rope-like creeper, one +end of which he had fastened to a branch higher +up. He flung down the free end to Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Look lively, Pat,” he called. “The sun’s +most gone, and the twilight don’t last all night in +these parts. Get the line around Miss Leslie, +and do what you can on a boost.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span>“I see; but, you know, the vine is too stiff +to tie.”</p> + +<p>Blake stifled an oath, and jerked the end of the +creeper up into his hand. When he threw it down +again, it was looped around and fastened in a +bowline knot.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Leslie, get aboard, and we’ll have +you up in a jiffy,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure you can lift me?” asked the girl, +as Winthrope slipped the loop over her shoulders.</p> + +<p>Blake laughed down at them. “Well, I guess +yes! Once hoisted a fellow out of a fifty-foot +prospect hole–big fat Dutchman at that. You +don’t weigh over a hundred and twenty.”</p> + +<p>He had stretched out across the broadest part of +the branch. As Miss Leslie seated herself in the +loop, he reached down and began to haul up on +the creeper, hand over hand. Though frightened +by the novel manner of ascent, the girl clung +tightly to the line above her head, and Blake had +no difficulty in raising her until she swung directly +beneath him. Here, however, he found himself +in a quandary. The girl seemed as helpless as a +child, and he was lying flat. How could he lift +her above the level of the branch?</p> + +<p>“Take hold the other line,” he said. The girl +hesitated. “Do you hear? Grab it quick, and +pull up hard, if you don’t want a tumble!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span>The girl seized the part of the creeper which +was fastened above, and drew herself up with +convulsive energy. Instantly Blake rose to his +knees, and grasping the taut creeper with one +hand, reached down with the other, to swing the +girl up beside him on the branch.</p> + +<p>“All right, Miss Jenny,” he reassured her as +he felt her tremble. “Sorry to scare you, but I +couldn’t have made it without. Now, if you’ll +just hold down my legs, we’ll soon hoist his +ludship.”</p> + +<p>He had seated her in the broadest part of the +shallow hollow, where the branch joined the main +trunk of the fig. Heaped with the reeds which +he had gathered during the afternoon, it made +such a cozy shelter that she at once forgot her +dizziness and fright. Nestling among the reeds, +she leaned over and pressed down on his ankles +with all her strength.</p> + +<p>The loose end of the creeper had fallen to the +ground when Blake lifted her upon the branch, +and Winthrope was already slipping into the +loop. Blake ordered him to take it off, and send +up the club. As the creeper was again flung +down, a black shadow swept over the jungle.</p> + +<p>“Hello! Sunset!” called Blake. “Look sharp, +there!”</p> + +<p>“All ready,” responded Winthrope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>Blake drew in a full breath, and began to hoist. +The position was an awkward one, and Winthrope +weighed thirty or forty pounds more than Miss +Leslie. But as the Englishman came within +reach of the descending loop, he grasped it and +did what he could to ease Blake’s efforts. A few +moments found him as high above the ground +as Blake could raise him. Without waiting for +orders, he swung himself upon the upper part +of the creeper, and climbed the last few feet +unaided. Blake grunted with satisfaction as he +pulled him in upon the branch.</p> + +<p>“You may do, after all,” he said. “At any +rate, we’re all aboard for the night; and none +too soon. Hear that!”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Lion, I guess–Not that yelping. Listen!”</p> + +<p>The brief twilight was already fading into the +darkness of a moonless night, and as the three +crouched together in their shallow nest, they were +soon made audibly aware of the savage nature of +their surroundings. With the gathering night +the jungle wakened into full life. From all sides +came the harsh squawking of birds, the weird +cries of monkeys and other small creatures, the +crash of heavy animals moving through the +jungle, and above all the yelp and howl and roar +of beasts of prey.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>After some contention with Winthrope, Blake +conceded that the roars of his lion might be +nothing worse than the snorting of the hippopotami +as they came out to browse for the night. +In this, however, there was small comfort, since +Winthrope presently reasserted his belief in the +climbing ability of leopards, and expressed his +opinion that, whether or not there were lions in +the neighborhood, certain of the barking roars +they could hear came from the throats of the +spotted climbers. Even Blake’s hair bristled as +his imagination pictured one of the great cats +creeping upon them in the darkness from the far +end of their nest limb, or leaping down out of +the upper branches.</p> + +<p>The nerves of all three were at their highest +tension when a dark form swept past through the +air within a yard of their faces. Miss Leslie +uttered a stifled scream, and Blake brandished his +club. But Winthrope, who had caught a glimpse +of the creature’s shape, broke into a nervous +laugh.</p> + +<p>“It’s only a fruit bat,” he explained. “They +feed on the banyan figs, you know.”</p> + +<p>In the reaction from this false alarm, both men +relaxed, and began to yield to the effects of the +tramp across the mud-flats. Arranging the reeds +as best they could, they stretched out on either +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +side of Miss Leslie, and fell asleep in the middle +of an argument on how the prospective leopard +was most likely to attack.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie remained awake for two or three +hours longer. Naturally she was more nervous +than her companions, and she had been refreshed +by her afternoon’s nap. Her nervousness was +not entirely due to the wild beasts. Though +Blake had taken pains to secure himself and his +companions in loops of the creeper, fastened to +the branch above, Winthrope moved about so +restlessly in his sleep that the girl feared he +would roll from the hollow.</p> + +<p>At last her limbs became so cramped that she +was compelled to change her position. She +leaned back upon her elbow, determined to rise +again and maintain her watch the moment she +was rested. But sleep was close upon her. +There was a lull in the louder noises of the +jungle. Her eyes closed, and her head sank +lower. In a little time it was lying upon Winthrope’s +shoulder, and she was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>As Blake had asserted, the mosquitoes had +either been blown away by the cyclone, or did +not fly to such a height. None came to trouble +the exhausted sleepers.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>MAN AND GENTLEMAN</span></h2> + +<p>Night had almost passed, and all three, +soothed by the refreshing coolness which +preceded the dawn, were sleeping their +soundest, when a sudden fierce roar followed +instantly by a piercing squeal caused even Blake +to start up in panic. Miss Leslie, too terrified to +scream, clung to Winthrope, who crouched on his +haunches, little less overcome.</p> + +<p>Blake was the first to recover and puzzle out +the meaning of the crashing in the jungle and the +ferocious growls directly beneath them.</p> + +<p>“Lie still,” he whispered. “We’re all right. +It’s only a beast that’s killed something down +below us.”</p> + +<p>All sat listening, and as the noise of the animals +in the thicket died away, they could hear the +beast beneath them tear at the body of its victim.</p> + +<p>“The air feels like dawn,” whispered Winthrope. +“We’ll soon be able to see the brute.”</p> + +<p>“And he us,” rejoined Blake.</p> + +<p>In this both were mistaken. During the brief +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +false dawn they were puzzled by the odd appearance +of the ground. The sudden flood of full +daylight found them staring down into a dense +white fog.</p> + +<p>“So they have that here!” muttered Blake–“fever-fog!”</p> + +<p>“Beastly shame!” echoed Winthrope. “I’m +sure the creature has gone off.”</p> + +<p>This assertion was met by an outburst of snarls +and yells that made all start back and crouch +down again in their sheltering hollow. As before, +Blake was the first to recover.</p> + +<p>“Bet you’re right,” he said. “The big one +has gone off, and a pack of these African coyotes +are having a scrap over the bones.”</p> + +<p>“You mean jackals. It sounds like the nasty +beasts.”</p> + +<p>“If it wasn’t for that fog, I’d go down and get +our share of the game.”</p> + +<p>“Would it not be very dangerous, Mr. Blake?” +asked Miss Leslie. “What a fearful noise!”</p> + +<p>“I’ve chased coyotes off a calf with a rope; +but that’s not the proposition. You don’t find +me fooling around in that sewer gas of a fog. +We’ll roost right where we are till the sun does +for it. We’ve got enough malaria in us already.”</p> + +<p>“Will it be long, Blake?” asked Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Huh? Getting hungry this quick? Wait till +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +you’ve tramped around a week, with nothing to +eat but your shoes.”</p> + +<p>“Surely, Mr. Blake, it will not be so bad!” +protested Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Sorry, Miss Jenny; but cocoanut palms don’t +blow over every day, and when those nuts are +gone, what are we going to do for the next +meal?”</p> + +<p>“Could we not make bows?” suggested Winthrope. +“There seems to be no end of game +about.”</p> + +<p>“Bows–and arrows without points! Neither +of us could hit a barn door, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“We could practise.”</p> + +<p>“Sure–six weeks’ training on air pudding. +I can do better with a handful of stones.”</p> + +<p>“Then we should go at once to the cliffs,” said +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Now you’re talking–and it’s Pike Peak or +bust, for ours. Here’s one night to the good; +but we won’t last many more if we don’t get fire. +It’s flints we’re after now.”</p> + +<p>“Could we not make fire by rubbing sticks?” +said Winthrope, recalling his suggestion of the +previous morning. “I’ve heard that natives +have no trouble–”</p> + +<p>“So’ve I, and what’s more, I’ve seen ’em do +it. Never could make a go of it myself, though.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>“But if you remember how it is done, we have +at least some chance–”</p> + +<p>“Give you ten to one odds! No; we’ll +scratch around for a flint good and plenty before +we waste time that way.”</p> + +<p>“The mist is going,” observed Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“That’s no lie. Now for our coyotes. Where’s +my club?”</p> + +<p>“They’ve all left,” said Winthrope, peering +down. “I can see the ground clearly, and there +is not a sign of the beasts.”</p> + +<p>“There are the bones–what’s left of them,” +added Blake. “It’s a small deer, I suppose. +Well, here goes.”</p> + +<p>He threw down his club, and dropped the loose +end of the creeper after it. As the line straightened, +he twisted the upper part around his leg, +and was about to slide to the ground, when he +remembered Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Think you can make it alone?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The girl held up her hands, sore and swollen +from the lacerations of the thorns. Blake looked +at them, frowned, and turned to Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Um! you got it, too, and in the face,” he +grunted. “How’s your ankle?”</p> + +<p>Winthrope wriggled his foot about, and felt the +injured ankle.</p> + +<p>“I fancy it is much better,” he answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +“There seems to be no swelling, and there is no +pain now.”</p> + +<p>“That’s lucky; though it will tune up later. +Take a slide, now. We’ve got to hustle our +breakfast, and find a way to get over the river.”</p> + +<p>“How wide is it?” inquired Winthrope, gazing +at his swollen hands.</p> + +<p>“About three hundred yards at high tide. +May be narrower at ebb.”</p> + +<p>“Could you not build a raft?” suggested Miss +Leslie.</p> + +<p>Blake smiled at her simplicity. “Why not a +boat? We’ve got a penknife.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I can swim.”</p> + +<p>“Bully for you! Guess, though, we’ll try +something else. The river is chuck full of alligators. +What you waiting for, Pat? We haven’t +got all day to fool around here.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope twisted the creeper about his leg +and slid to the ground, doing all he could to favor +his hands. He found that he could walk without +pain, and at once stepped over beside Blake’s +club, glancing nervously around at the jungle.</p> + +<p>Blake jerked up the end of the creeper, and +passed the loop about Miss Leslie. Before she +had time to become frightened, he swung her +over and lowered her to the ground lightly as a +feather. He followed, hand under hand, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +stood for a moment beside her, staring at the +dew-dripping foliage of the jungle. Then the remains +of the night’s quarry caught his eye, and +he walked over to examine them.</p> + +<p>“Say, Pat,” he called, “these don’t look like +deer bones. I’d say–yes; there’s the feet–it’s +a pig.”</p> + +<p>“Any tusks?” demanded Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie looked away. A heap of bones, +however cleanly gnawed, is not a pleasant sight. +The skull of the animal seemed to be missing; +but Blake stumbled upon it in a tuft of grass, +and kicked it out upon the open ground. Every +shred of hide and gristle had been gnawed from +it by the jackals; yet if there had been any +doubt as to the creature’s identity, there was evidence +to spare in the savage tusks which projected +from the jaws.</p> + +<p>“Je-rusalem!” observed Blake; “this old +boar must have been something of a scrapper his +own self.”</p> + +<p>“In India they have been known to kill a +tiger. Can you knock out the tusks?”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you said we had nothing for arrow +points–”</p> + +<p>“Good boy! We’ll cinch them, and ask +questions later.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span>A few blows with the club loosened the tusks. +Blake handed them over to Winthrope, together +with the whiskey flask, and led the way to the +half-broken path through the thicket. A free +use of his club made the path a little more +worthy of the name, and as there was less need +of haste than on the previous evening, Winthrope +and Miss Leslie came through with only a few +fresh scratches. Once on open ground again, +they soon gained the fallen palms.</p> + +<p>At a word from Blake, Miss Leslie hastened +to fetch nuts for Winthrope to husk and open. +Blake, who had plucked three leaves from a fan +palm near the edge of the jungle, began to split +long shreds from one of the huge leaves of a +cocoanut palm. This gave him a quantity of +coarse, stiff fibre, part of which he twisted in a +cord and used to tie one of the leaves of the fan +palm over his head.</p> + +<p>“How’s that for a bonnet?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>The improvised head-gear bore so grotesque a +resemblance to a recent type of picture hat that +Winthrope could not repress a derisive laugh. +Miss Leslie, however, examined the hat and gave +her opinion without a sign of amusement. “I +think it is splendid, Mr. Blake. If we must go +out in the sun again, it is just the thing to protect +one.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>“Yes. Here’s two more I’ve fixed for you. +Ready yet, Winthrope?”</p> + +<p>The Englishman nodded, and the three sat +down to their third feast of cocoanuts. They +were hungry enough at the start, and Blake +added no little keenness even to his own appetite +by a grim joke on the slender prospects of the +next meal, to the effect that, if in the meantime +not eaten themselves, they might possibly find +their next meal within a week.</p> + +<p>“But if we must move, could we not take +some of the nuts with us?” suggested Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Blake pondered over this as he ate, and when, +fully satisfied, he helped himself up with his club, +he motioned the others to remain seated.</p> + +<p>“There are your hats and the strings,” he +said, “but you won’t need them now. I’m going +to take a prospect along the river; and while +I’m gone, you can make a try at stringing nuts +on some of this leaf fibre.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake, do you think it’s quite +safe?” asked Miss Leslie, and she glanced from +him to the jungle.</p> + +<p>“Safe?” he repeated. “Well, nothing ate +you yesterday, if that’s anything to go by. It’s +all I know about it.”</p> + +<p>He did not wait for further protests. Swinging +his club on his shoulder, he started for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +break in the jungle which marked the hippopotamus +path. The others looked at each other, and +Miss Leslie sighed.</p> + +<p>“If only he were a gentleman!” she complained.</p> + +<p>Winthrope turned abruptly to the cocoanuts.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>AROUND THE HEADLAND</span></h2> + +<p>It was mid morning before Blake reappeared. +He came from the mangrove swamp where +it ran down into the sea. His trousers were +smeared to the thigh with slimy mud; but as he +approached, the drooping brim of his palm-leaf +hat failed to hide his exultant expression.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” he called. “I’ve struck it. We’ll +be over in half an hour.”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” asked Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Bar,” answered Blake, hurrying forward. +“Sling on your hats, and get into my coat again, +Miss Jenny. The sun’s hot as yesterday. How +about the nuts?”</p> + +<p>“Here they are. Three strings; all that I +fancied we could carry,” explained Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“All right. The big one is mine, I suppose. +I’ll take two. We’ll leave the other. Lean on +me, if your ankle is still weak.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks; I can make it alone. But must we +go through mud like that?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>“Not on this side, at least. Come on! We +don’t want to miss the ebb.”</p> + +<p>Blake’s impatience discouraged further inquiries. +He had turned as he spoke, and the others followed +him, walking close together. The pace +was sharp for Winthrope, and his ankle soon +began to twinge. He was compelled to accept +Miss Leslie’s invitation to take her arm. With +her help, he managed to keep within a few yards +of Blake.</p> + +<p>Instead of plunging into the mangrove wood, +which here was undergrown with a thicket of +giant ferns, Blake skirted around in the open +until they came to the seashore. The tide was at +its lowest, and he waved his club towards a long +sand spit which curved out around the seaward +edge of the mangroves. Whether this was part +of the river’s bar, or had been heaped up by +the cyclone would have been beyond Winthrope’s +knowledge, had the question occurred to him. It +was enough for him that the sand was smooth and +hard as a race track.</p> + +<p>Presently the party came to the end of the spit, +where the river water rippled over the sand with +the last feeble out-suck of the ebb. On their +right they had a sweeping view of the river, +around the flank of the mangrove screen. Blake +halted at the edge of the water, and half turned.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>“Close up,” he said. “It’s shallow enough; +but do you see those logs over on the mud-bank? +Those are alligators.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy!–and you expect me to wade among +such creatures?” cried Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“I went almost across an hour ago, and they +didn’t bother me any. Come on! There’s wind +in that cloud out seaward. Inside half an hour +the surf’ll be rolling up on this bar like all +Niagara.”</p> + +<p>“If we must, we must, Miss Genevieve,” urged +Winthrope. “Step behind me, and gather up +your skirts. It’s best to keep one’s clothes dry +in the tropics.”</p> + +<p>The girl blushed, and retained his arm.</p> + +<p>“I prefer to help you,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” called Blake, and he splashed out +into the water.</p> + +<p>The others followed within arm’s-length, nervously +conscious of the rows of motionless reptiles +on the mud-flat, not a hundred yards distant.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the bar, where the water was a +trifle over knee-deep, some large creature came +darting down-stream beneath the surface, and +passed with a violent swirl between Blake and +his companions. At Miss Leslie’s scream, Blake +whirled about and jabbed with his club at the +supposed alligator.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>“Where’s the brute? Has he got you?” he +shouted.</p> + +<p>“No, no; he went by!” gasped Winthrope. +“There he is!”</p> + +<p>A long bony snout, fringed on either side by a +row of lateral teeth, was flung up into view.</p> + +<p>“Sawfish!” said Blake, and he waded on across +the bar, without further comment.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie had been on the point of fainting. +The tone of Blake’s voice revived her +instantly.</p> + +<p>There were no more scares. A few minutes +later they waded out upon a stretch of clean sand +on the south side of the river. Before them the +beach lay in a flattened curve, which at the far +end hooked sharply to the left, and appeared to +terminate at the foot of the towering limestone +cliffs of the headland. A mile or more inland +the river jungle edged in close to the cliffs; but +from there to the beach the forest was separated +from the wall of rock by a little sandy plain, +covered with creeping plants and small palms. +The greatest width of the open space was hardly +more than a quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>Blake paused for a moment at high-tide mark, +and Winthrope instantly squatted down to nurse +his ankle.</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake,” he said, “can’t you find me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +some kind of a crutch? It is only a few yards +around to those trees.”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord! you haven’t been fool enough to +overstrain that ankle– Yes, you have. Dammit! +why couldn’t you tell me before?”</p> + +<p>“It did not feel so painful in the water.”</p> + +<p>“I helped the best I could,” interposed Miss +Leslie. “I think if you could get Mr. Winthrope +a crutch–”</p> + +<p>“Crutch!” growled Blake. “How long do +you think it would take me to wade through the +mud? And look at that cloud! We’re in for +a squall. Here!”</p> + +<p>He handed the girl the smaller string of cocoanuts, +flung the other up the beach, and stooped +for Winthrope to mount his back. He then +started off along the beach at a sharp trot. Miss +Leslie followed as best she could, the heavy +cocoanuts swinging about with every step and +bruising her tender body.</p> + +<p>The wind was coming faster than Blake had +calculated. Before they had run two hundred +paces, they heard the roar of rain-lashed water, +and the squall struck them with a force that +almost overthrew the girl. With the wind came +torrents of rain that drove through their thickest +garments and drenched them to the skin within +the first half-minute.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span>Blake slackened his pace to a walk, and +plodded sullenly along beneath the driving down-pour. +He kept to the lower edge of the beach, +where the sand was firmest, for the force of the +falling deluge beat down the waves and held in +check the breakers which the wind sought to roll +up the beach.</p> + +<p>The rain storm was at its height when they +reached the foot of the cliffs. The gray rock +towered above them, thirty or forty feet high. +Blake deposited Winthrope upon a wet ledge, and +straightened up to scan the headland. Here and +there ledges ran more than half-way up the rocky +wall; in other places the crest was notched by +deep clefts; but nowhere within sight did either +offer a continuous path to the summit. Blake +grunted with disgust.</p> + +<p>“It’d take a fire ladder to get up this side,” he +said. “We’ll have to try the other, if we can +get around the point. I’m going on ahead. You +can follow, after Pat has rested his ankle. Keep +a sharp eye out for anything in the flint line–quartz +or agate. That means fire. Another +thing, when this rain blows over, don’t let your +clothes dry on you. I’ve got my hands full +enough, without having to nurse you through +malarial fever. Don’t forget the cocoanuts, and +if I don’t show up by noon, save me some.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span>He stooped to drink from a pool in the rock +which was overflowing with the cool, pure rainwater, +and started off at his sharpest pace. +Winthrope and Miss Leslie, seated side by side +in dripping misery, watched him swing away +through the rain, without energy enough to call +out a parting word.</p> + +<p>Beneath the cliff the sand beach was succeeded +by a talus of rocky debris which in places sloped +up from the water ten or fifteen feet. The lower +part of the slope consisted of boulders and water-worn +stones, over which the surf, reinforced by +the rising tide, was beginning to break with an +angry roar.</p> + +<p>Blake picked his way quickly over the smaller +stones near the top of the slope, now and then +bending to snatch up a fragment that seemed to +differ from the others. Finding nothing but limestone, +he soon turned his attention solely to the +passage around the headland. Here he had expected +to find the surf much heavier. But the +shore was protected by a double line of reefs, so +close in that the channel between did not show a +whitecap. This was fortunate, since in places the +talus here sank down almost to the level of low +tide. Even a moderate surf would have rendered +farther progress impracticable.</p> + +<p>Another hundred paces brought Blake to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +second corner of the cliff, which jutted out in a +little point. He clambered around it, and stopped +to survey the coast beyond. Within the last few +minutes the squall had blown over, and the rain +began to moderate its down-pour. The sun, +bursting through the clouds, told that the storm +was almost past, and its flood of direct light +cleared the view.</p> + +<p>Along the south side of the cliff the sea extended +in twice as far as on the north. From the +end of the talus the coast trended off four or five +miles to the south-southwest in a shallow bight, +whose southern extremity was bounded by a +second limestone headland. This ridge ran inland +parallel to the first, and from a point some little +distance back from the shore was covered with a +growth of leafless trees.</p> + +<p>Between the two ridges lay a plain, open along +the shore, but a short distance inland covered +with a jungle of tall yellow grass, above which, +here and there, rose the tops of scrubby, leafless +trees and the graceful crests of slender-shafted +palms. Blake’s attention was drawn to the latter +by that feeling of artificiality which their +exotic appearance so often wakens in the mind +of the Northern-bred man even after long residence +in the tropics. But in a moment he +turned away, with a growl. “More of those +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +darned feather-dusters!” He was not looking +for palms.</p> + +<p>The last ragged bit of cloud, with its showery +accompaniment, drifted past before the breeze +which followed the squall, and the end of the +storm was proclaimed by a deafening chorus of +squawks and screams along the higher ledges of +the cliff. Staring upward, Blake for the first time +observed that the face of the cliff swarmed with +seafowl.</p> + +<p>“That’s luck!” he muttered. “Guess I haven’t +forgot how to rob nests. Bet our fine lady’ll shy +at sucking them raw! All the same, she’ll have +to, if I don’t run across other rock than this, poor +girl!”</p> + +<p>He advanced again along the talus, and did not +stop until he reached the sand beach. There he +halted to make a careful examination, not only of +the loose debris, but of the solid rock above. +Finding no sign of flint or quartz, he growled out +a curse, and backed off along the beach, to get a +view of the cliff top. From a point a little beyond +him, outward to the extremity of the headland, +he could see that the upper ledges and the +crest of the cliff, as well, were fairly crowded +with seafowl and their nests. His smile of satisfaction +broadened when he glanced inland and +saw, less than half a mile distant, a wooded cleft +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +which apparently ran up to the summit of the +ridge. From a point near the top a gigantic +baobab tree towered up against the skyline like +a Brobdingnagian cabbage.</p> + +<p>“Say, we may have a run for our money, +after all,” he murmured. “Shade, and no end +of grub, and, by the green of those trees, a +spring–limestone water at that. Next thing, +I’ll find a flint!”</p> + +<p>He slapped his leg, and both sound and feeling +reminded him that his clothes were drenched.</p> + +<p>“Guess we’ll wait about that flint,” he said, +and he made for a clump of thorn scrub a little +way inland.</p> + +<p>As the tall grass did not grow here within a +mile of the shore, there was nothing to obstruct +him. The creeping plants which during the +rainy season had matted over the sandy soil +were now leafless and withered by the heat of +the dry season. Even the thorn scrub was half +bare of leaves.</p> + +<p>Blake walked around the clump to the shadiest +side, and began to strip. In quick succession, +one garment after another was flung across a +branch where the sun would strike it. Last +of all, the shoes were emptied of rainwater and +set out to dry. Without a pause, he then gave +himself a quick, light rub-down, just sufficient to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +invigorate the skin without starting the perspiration.</p> + +<p>Physically the man was magnificent. His +muscles were wiry and compact, rather than +bulky, and as he moved, they played beneath +his white skin with the smoothness and ease of a +tiger’s.</p> + +<p>After the rub-down, he squatted on his heels, +and spent some time trying to bend his palm-leaf +hat back into shape. When he had placed this +also out in the sun, he found himself beginning +to yawn. The dry, sultry air had made him +drowsy. A touch with his bare foot showed him +that the sand beneath the thorn bush had already +absorbed the rain and offered a dry surface. +He glanced around, drew his club nearer, and +stretched himself out for a nap.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE CLUB AGE</span></h2> + +<p>It was past two o’clock when the sun, striking +in where Blake lay outstretched, began to +scorch one of his legs. He stirred uneasily, +and sat upright. Like a sailor, he was wide +awake the moment he opened his eyes. He +stood up, and peered around through the half +leafless branches.</p> + +<p>Over the water thousands of gulls and terns, +boobies and cormorants were skimming and diving, +while above them a number of graceful +frigate birds–those swart, scarlet-throated pirates +of the air,–hung poised, ready to swoop +down and rob the weaker birds of their fish. All +about the headland and the surrounding water +was life in fullest action. Even from where he +stood Blake could hear the harsh clamor of the +seafowl.</p> + +<p>In marked contrast to this scene, the plain was +apparently lifeless. When Blake rose, a small +brown lizard darted away across the sand. Otherwise +there was neither sight nor sound of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +living creature. Blake pondered this as he gathered +his clothes into the shade and began to +dress.</p> + +<p>“Looks like the siesta is the all-round style in +this God-forsaken hole,” he grumbled. “Haven’t +seen so much as a rabbit, nor even one land bird. +May be a drought–no; must be the dry season– +Whee, these things are hot! I’m thirsty +as a shark. Now, where’s that softy and her +Ladyship? ’Fraid she’s in for a tough time!”</p> + +<p>He drew on his shoes with a jerk, growled at +their stiffness, and club in hand, stepped clear of +the brush to look for his companions. The first +glance along the foot of the cliff showed him +Winthrope lying under the shade of the overhanging +ledges, a few yards beyond the sand +beach. Of Miss Leslie there was no sign. Half +alarmed by this, Blake started for the beach with +his swinging stride. Winthrope was awake, and +on Blake’s approach, sat up to greet him.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he called. “Where have you been +all this time?”</p> + +<p>“’Sleep. Where’s Miss Leslie?”</p> + +<p>“She’s around the point.”</p> + +<p>Blake grinned mockingly. “Indeed! But I +fawncy she won’t be for long.”</p> + +<p>He would have passed on, but Winthrope +stepped before him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span>“Don’t go out there, Blake,” he protested. +“I–ah–think it would be better if I went.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” demanded Blake.</p> + +<p>Winthrope hesitated; but an impatient movement +by Blake forced an answer: “Well, you +remember, this morning, telling us to dry our +clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I remember,” said Blake. “So you +want to serve as lady’s valet?”</p> + +<p>Winthrope’s plump face turned a sickly yellow.</p> + +<p>“I–ah–valet?–What do you mean, sir? +I protest–I do not understand you!” he stammered. +But in the midst, catching sight of Blake’s +bewildered stare, he suddenly flushed crimson, +and burst out in unrestrained anger: “You–you +bounder–you beastly cad! Any man with +an ounce of decency–”</p> + +<p>Blake uttered a jeering laugh– “Wow! +Hark, how the British lion r-r-ro-ars when his +tail’s twisted!”</p> + +<p>“You beastly cad!” repeated the Englishman, +now purple with rage.</p> + +<p>Blake’s unpleasant pleasantry gave place to a +scowl. His jaw thrust out like a bulldog’s, and +he bent towards Winthrope with a menacing +look. For a moment the Englishman faced him, +sustained by his anger. But there was a steely +light in Blake’s eyes that he could not withstand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +Winthrope’s defiant stare wavered and fell. He +shrank back, the color fast ebbing from his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Ugh!” growled Blake. “Guess you won’t +blat any more about cads! You damned hypocrite! +Maybe I’m not on to how you’ve been +hanging around Miss Leslie just because she’s an +heiress. Anything is fair enough for you swells. +But let a fellow so much as open his mouth about +your exalted set, and it’s perfectly dreadful, you +know!”</p> + +<p>He paused for a reply. Winthrope only drew +back a step farther, and eyed him with a furtive, +sidelong glance. This brought Blake back to +his mocking jeer. “You’ll learn, Pat, me b’y. +There’s lots of things’ll show up different to +you before we get through this picnic. For one +thing, I’m boss here–president, congress, and +supreme court. Understand?”</p> + +<p>“By what right, may I ask?” murmured +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Right!” answered Blake. “That hasn’t anything +to do with the question–it’s might. Back +in civilized parts, your little crowd has the drop +on my big crowd, and runs things to suit themselves. +But here we’ve sort of reverted to primitive +society. This happens to be the Club Age, +and I’m the Man with the Big Stick. See?”</p> + +<p>“I myself sympathize with the lower classes, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +Mr. Blake. Above all, I think it barbarous the +way they punish one who is forced by circumstances +to appropriate part of the ill-gotten gains +of the rich upstarts. But do you believe, Mr. +Blake, that brute strength–”</p> + +<p>“You bet! Now shut up. Where’re the +cocoanuts?”</p> + +<p>Winthrope picked up two nuts and handed them +over.</p> + +<p>“There were only five,” he explained.</p> + +<p>“All right. I’m no captain of industry.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, true; you said we had reverted to barbarism,” +rejoined Winthrope, venturing an attempt +at sarcasm.</p> + +<p>“Lucky for you!” retorted Blake. “But +where’s Miss Leslie all this time? Her clothes +must have dried hours ago.”</p> + +<p>“They did. We had luncheon together just +this side of the point.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you did! Then why shouldn’t I go for +her?”</p> + +<p>“I–I–there was a shaded pool around the +point, and she thought a dip in the salt water +would refresh her. She went not more than half +an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>“So that’s it. Well, while I eat, you go and +call her–and say, you keep this side the point. +I’m looking out for Miss Leslie now.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span>Winthrope hurried away, clenching his fists +and almost weeping with impotent rage. Truly, +matters were now very different from what they +had been aboard ship. Fortunately he had not +gone a dozen steps before Miss Leslie appeared +around the corner of the cliff. He was scrambling +along over the loose stones of the slope without +the slightest consideration for his ankle. The +girl, more thoughtful, waved to him to wait for +her where he was.</p> + +<p>As she approached, Blake’s frown gave place +to a look that made his face positively pleasant. +He had already drained the cocoanuts; now he +proceeded to smash the shells into small bits, that +he might eat the meat, and at the same time +keep his gaze on the girl. The cliff foot being +well shaded by the towering wall of rock, she +had taken off his coat, and was carrying it on her +arm; so that there was nothing to mar the effect of +her dainty openwork waist, with its elbow sleeves +and graceful collar and the filmy veil of lace over +the shoulders and bosom. Her skirt had been +washed clean by the rain, and she had managed +to stretch it into shape before drying.</p> + +<p>Refreshed by a nap in the forenoon and by her +salt-water dip, she showed more vivacity than at +any time that Winthrope could remember during +their acquaintance. Her suffering during and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +since the storm had left its mark in the dark +circles beneath her hazel eyes, but this in no wise +lessened their brightness; while the elasticity of +her step showed that she had quite recovered her +well-bred ease and grace of movement.</p> + +<p>She bowed and smiled to the two men impartially. +“Good-afternoon, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“Same to you, Miss Leslie!” responded Blake, +staring at her with frank admiration. “You look +fresh as a daisy.”</p> + +<p>Genial and sincere as was his tone, the familiarity +jarred on her sensitive ear. She colored as +she turned from him.</p> + +<p>“Is there anything new, Mr. Winthrope?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid not, Miss Genevieve. Like ourselves, +Blake took a nap.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but Blake first took a squint at the +scenery. Just see if you’ve got everything, and +fix your hats. We’ll be in the sun for half a mile +or so. Better get on the coat, Miss Leslie. It’s +hotter than yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Permit me,” said Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Blake watched while the Englishman held the +coat for the girl and rather fussily raised the +collar about her neck and turned back the sleeves, +which extended beyond the tips of her fingers. +The American’s face was stolid; but his glance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +took in every little look and act of his companions. +He was not altogether unversed in the +ways of good society, and it seemed to him that +the Englishman was somewhat over-assiduous in +his attentions.</p> + +<p>“All ready, Blake,” remarked Winthrope, +finally, with a last lingering touch.</p> + +<p>“’Bout time!” grunted Blake. “You’re fussy +as a tailor. Got the flask and cigarette case and +the knife?”</p> + +<p>“All safe, sir–er–all safe, Blake.”</p> + +<p>“Then you two follow me slow enough not to +worry that ankle. I don’t want any more of the +pack-mule in mine.”</p> + +<p>“Where are we going, Mr. Blake?” exclaimed +Miss Leslie. “You will not leave us again!”</p> + +<p>“It’s only a half-mile, Miss Jenny. There’s a +break in the ridge. I’m going on ahead to find +if it’s hard to climb.”</p> + +<p>“But why should we climb?”</p> + +<p>“Food, for one thing. You see, this end of +the cliff is covered with sea-birds. Another thing, +I expect to strike a spring.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope you do! The water in the rain +pools is already warm.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll be dry in a day or two. Say, Winthrope, +you might fetch some of those stones–size +of a ball. I used to be a fancy pitcher when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +I was a kid, and we might scare up a rabbit or +something.”</p> + +<p>“I play cricket myself. But these stones–”</p> + +<p>“Better’n a gun, when you haven’t got the +gun. Come on. We’ll go in a bunch, after all, +in case I need stones.”</p> + +<p>With due consideration for Winthrope’s ankle,–not for Winthrope,–Blake set so slow a pace +that the half-mile’s walk consumed over half an +hour. But his smouldering irritation was soon +quenched when they drew near the green thicket +at the foot of the cleft. In the almost deathlike +stillness of mid-afternoon, the sound of trickling +water came to their ears, clear and musical.</p> + +<p>“A spring!” shouted Blake. “I guessed right. +Look at those green plants and grass; there’s +the channel where it runs out in the sand and +dries up.”</p> + +<p>The others followed him eagerly as he pushed +in among the trees. They saw no running water, +for the tiny rill that trickled down the ledges was +matted over with vines. But at the foot of the +slope lay a pool, some ten yards across, and overshadowed +by the surrounding trees. There was +no underbrush, and the ground was trampled bare +as a floor.</p> + +<p>“By Jove,” said Winthrope; “see the tracks! +There must have been a drove of sheep about.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span>“Deer, you mean,” replied Blake, bending to +examine the deeper prints at the edge of the pool. +“These ain’t sheep tracks. A lot of them are +larger.”</p> + +<p>“Could you not uncover the brook?” asked +Miss Leslie. “If animals have been drinking +here, one would prefer cleaner water.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” assented Blake. “If you’re game for +a climb, and can wait a few minutes, we’ll get it +out of the spring itself. We’ve got to go up +anyway, to get at our poultry yard.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s a place that looks like a path,” called +Winthrope, who had circled about the edge of the +pool to the farther side.</p> + +<p>Blake ran around beside him, and stared at the +tunnel-like passage which wound up the limestone +ledges beneath the over-arching thickets.</p> + +<p>“Odd place, is it not?” observed Winthrope. +“Looks like a fox run, only larger, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Too low for deer, though–and their hoofs +would have cut up the moss and ferns more. +Let’s get a close look.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Blake stooped and climbed a few +yards up the trail to an overhanging ledge, four +or five feet high. Where the trail ran up over +this break in the slope the stone was bare of all +vegetation. Blake laid his club on the top of the +ledge, and was about to vault after it, when, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +directly beneath his nose, he saw the print of a +great catlike paw, outlined in dried mud. At the +same instant a deep growl came rumbling down +the “fox run.” Without waiting for a second +warning, Blake drew his club to him, and crept +back down the trail. His stealthy movements +and furtive backward glances filled his companions +with vague terror. He himself was hardly +less alarmed.</p> + +<p>“Get out of the trees–into the open!” he exclaimed +in a hoarse whisper, and as they crept +away, white with dread of the unknown danger, +he followed at their heels, looking backward, his +club raised in readiness to strike.</p> + +<p>Once clear of the trees, Winthrope caught Miss +Leslie by the hand, and broke into a run. In +their terror, they paid no heed to Blake’s command +to stop. They had darted off so unexpectedly +that he did not overtake them short of a +hundred yards.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” he said, gripping Winthrope +roughly by the shoulder. “It’s safe enough +here, and you’ll knock out that blamed ankle.”</p> + +<p>“What is it? What did you see?” gasped +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Footprint,” mumbled Blake, ashamed of his +fright.</p> + +<p>“A lion’s?” cried Winthrope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span>“Not so large–’bout the size of a puma’s. +Must be a leopard’s den up there. I heard a +growl, and thought it about time to clear out.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, we’d better withdraw around the +point!”</p> + +<p>“Withdraw your aunty! There’s no leopard +going to tackle us out here in open ground this +time of day. The sneaking tomcat! If only I +had a match, I’d show him how we smoke rat +holes.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winthrope spoke of rubbing sticks to +make fire,” suggested Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Make sweat, you mean. But we may as +well try it now, if we’re going to at all. The +sun’s hot enough to fry eggs. We’ll go back to +a shady place, and pick up sticks on the way.”</p> + +<p>Though there was shade under the cliff within +some six hundred feet, they had to go some distance +to the nearest dry wood–a dead thorp-bush. +Here they gathered a quantity of branches, +even Miss Leslie volunteering to carry a load.</p> + +<p>All was thrown down in a heap near the cliff, +and Blake squatted beside it, penknife in hand. +Having selected the dryest of the larger sticks, +he bored a hole in one side and dropped in a +pinch of powdered bark. Laying the stick in the +full glare of the sun, he thrust a twig into the +hole, and began to twirl it between his palms. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +This movement he kept up for several minutes; +but whether he was unable to twirl the twig fast +enough, or whether the right kind of wood or tinder +was lacking, all his efforts failed to produce a +spark.</p> + +<p>Unwilling to accept the failure, Winthrope insisted +upon trying in turn, and pride held him to +the task until he was drenched with sweat. The +result was the same.</p> + +<p>“Told you so,” jeered Blake from where he. +lay in the shade. “We’d stand more chance +cracking stones together.”</p> + +<p>“But what shall we do now?” asked Miss +Leslie. “I am becoming very tired of cocoanuts, +and there seems to be nothing else around here. +Indeed, I think this is all such a waste of time. +If we had walked straight along the shore this +morning we might have reached a town.”</p> + +<p>“We might, Miss Jenny, and then, again, we +mightn’t. I happened to overhaul the captain’s +chart–Quilimane, Mozambique–that’s all for +hundreds of miles. Towns on this coast are +about as thick as hens’-teeth.”</p> + +<p>“How about native villages?” demanded +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; maybe I’m fool enough to go +into a wild nigger town without a gun. Maybe +I didn’t talk with fellows down on the Rand.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span>“But what shall we do?” repeated Miss Leslie, +with a little frightened catch in her voice. +She was at last beginning to realize what this +rude break in her sheltered, pampered life might +mean. “What shall we do? It’s–it’s absurd +to think of having to stay in this horrid country +for weeks or perhaps months–unless some ship +comes for us!”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Miss Leslie,” answered Blake, +sharply yet not unkindly; “suppose you just sit +back and use your thinker a bit. If you’re your +daddy’s daughter, you’ve got brains somewhere +down under the boarding-school stuff.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t get huffy, please! It’s a question +of think, not of putting on airs. Here we +are, worse off than the people of the Stone Age. +They had fire and flint axes; we’ve got nothing +but our think tanks, and as to lions and leopards +and that sort of thing, it strikes me we’ve got +about as many on hand as they had.”</p> + +<p>“Then you and Mr. Winthrope should immediately +arm yourselves.”</p> + +<p>“How?–But we’ll leave that till later. What +else?”</p> + +<p>The girl gazed at the surrounding objects, her +forehead wrinkled in the effort at concentration. +“We must have water. Think how we suffered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +yesterday! Then there is shelter from wild +beasts, and food, and–”</p> + +<p>“All right here under our hands, if we had +fire. Understand?”</p> + +<p>“I understand about the water. You would +frighten the leopard away with the fire; and if it +would do that, it would also keep away the other +animals at night. But as for food, unless we return +for cocoanuts–”</p> + +<p>“Don’t give it up! Keep your thinker going on +the side, while Pat tells us our next move. Now +that he’s got the fire sticks out of his head–”</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake, I wish you would drop that +name. It is no harder to say Winthrope.”</p> + +<p>“You’re off, there,” rejoined Blake. “But +look here, I’ll make it Win, if you figure out +what we ought to do next.”</p> + +<p>“Really, Blake, that would not be half bad. +They–er–they called me Win at Harrow.”</p> + +<p>“That so? My English chum went to Harrow–Jimmy +Scarbridge.”</p> + +<p>“Lord James!–your chum?”</p> + +<p>“He started in like you, sort of top-lofty. +But he chummed all right–after I took out a +lot of his British starch with a good walloping.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, really now, Blake, you can’t expect any +one with brains to believe that, you know!”</p> + +<p>“No; I don’t know, you know,–and I don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +know if you’ve got any brains, you know. +Here’s your chance to show us. What’s our +next move?”</p> + +<p>“Really, now, I have had no experience in +this sort of thing–don’t interrupt, please! It +seems to me that our first concern is shelter for +the night. If we should return to your tree nest, +we should also be near the cocoa palms.”</p> + +<p>“That’s one side. Here’s the other. Bar +to wade across–sharks and alligators; then +swampy ground–malaria, mosquitoes, thorn +jungle. Guess the hands of both of you are still +sore enough, by their look.”</p> + +<p>“If only I had a pot of cold cream!” sighed +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“If only I had a hunk of jerked beef!” echoed +Blake.</p> + +<p>“I say, why couldn’t we chance it for the +night around on the seaward face of the cliff?” +asked Winthrope. “I noticed a place where the +ledges overhang–almost a cave. Do you think +it probable that any wild beast would venture +so close to the sea?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say. Didn’t see any tracks; so we’ll +chance it for to-night. Next!”</p> + +<p>“By morning I believe my ankle will be in +such shape that I could go back for the string of +cocoanuts which we dropped on the beach.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span>“I’ll go myself, to-day, else we’ll have no +supper. Now we’re getting down to bedrock. +If those nuts haven’t been washed away by the +tide, we’re fixed for to-night; and for two meals, +such as they are. But what next? Even the rain +pools will be dried up by another day or so.”</p> + +<p>“Are not sea-birds good to eat?” inquired +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Some.”</p> + +<p>“Then, if only we could climb the cliff–might +there not be another place?”</p> + +<p>“No; I’ve looked at both sides. What’s +more, that spotted tomcat has got a monopoly on +our water supply. The river may be fresh at +low tide; but we’ve got nothing to boil water +in, and such bayou stuff is just concentrated +malaria.”</p> + +<p>“Then we must find water elsewhere,” responded +Miss Leslie. “Might we not succeed if +we went on to the other ridge?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the ticket! You’ve got a headpiece, +Miss Jenny! It’s too late to start now. But +first thing to-morrow I’ll take a run down that +way, while you two lay around camp and see if +you can twist some sort of fish-line out of cocoanut +fibre. By braiding your hair, Miss Jenny, +you can spare us your hair-pins for hooks.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake, I’m afraid–I’d rather +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +you’d take us with you. With that dreadful +creature so near–”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know. Let’s see your feet?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie glanced at him, and thrust a +slender foot from beneath her skirt.</p> + +<p>“Um-m–stocking torn; but those slippers are +tougher than I thought. Most of the way will +be good walking, along the beach. We’ll leave +the fishing to Pat–er–beg pardon–Win! +With his ankle–”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, Blake, I’ll chance the ankle. Don’t +leave me behind. I give you my word, you’ll +not have to lug me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, Mr. Winthrope must go with us!”</p> + +<p>“’Fraid to go alone, eh?” demanded Blake, +frowning.</p> + +<p>His tone startled and offended her; yet all he +saw was a politely quizzical lifting of her brows.</p> + +<p>“Why should I be afraid, Mr. Blake?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>Blake stared at her moodily. But when she +met his gaze with a confiding smile, he flushed +and looked away.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he muttered; “well move camp +together. But don’t expect me to pack his ludship, +if we draw a blank and have to trek back +without food or water.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE LEOPARDS’ DEN</span></h2> + +<p>While Blake made a successful trip +for the abandoned cocoanuts, his +companions levelled the stones beneath +the ledges chosen by Winthrope, and +gathered enough dried sea-weed along the talus +to soften the hard beds.</p> + +<p>Soothed by the monotonous wash of the sea +among the rocks, even Miss Leslie slept well. +Blake, who had insisted that she should retain +his coat, was wakened by the chilliness preceding +the dawn. Five minutes later they started on +their journey.</p> + +<p>The starlight glimmered on the waves and +shed a faint radiance over the rocks. This and +their knowledge of the way enabled them to pick +a path along the foot of the cliff without difficulty. +Once on the beach, they swung along at +a smart gait, invigorated by the cool air.</p> + +<p>Dawn found them half way to their goal. +Blake called a halt when the first red streaks +shot up the eastern sky. All stood waiting until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +the quickly following sun sprang forth from the +sea. Blake’s first act was to glance from one +headland to the other, estimating their relative +distances. His grunt of satisfaction was lost in +Winthrope’s exclamation, “By Jove, look at the +cattle!”</p> + +<p>Blake and Miss Leslie turned to stare at the +droves of animals moving about between them +and the border of the tall grass. Miss Leslie was +the first to speak. “They can’t be cattle, Mr. +Winthrope. There are some with stripes. I do +believe they’re zebras!”</p> + +<p>“Get down!” commanded Blake. “They’re +all wild game. Those big ox-like fellows to the +left of the zebras are eland. Whee! wouldn’t +we be in it if we owned that water hole? I’ll bet +I’d have one of those fat beeves inside three +days.”</p> + +<p>“How I should enjoy a juicy steak!” murmured +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Raw or jerked?” questioned Blake.</p> + +<p>“What is ‘jerked’?”</p> + +<p>“Dried.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; I mean broiled–just red inside.”</p> + +<p>“I prefer mine quite rare,” added Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“That’s the way you’ll get it, damned rare–Beg +your pardon, Miss Jenny! Without fire, +we’ll have the choice of raw or jerked.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span>“Horrors!”</p> + +<p>“Jerked meat is all right. You cut your game +in strips–”</p> + +<p>“With a penknife!” laughed Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>Blake stared at her glumly. “That’s so. +You’ve got it back on me– Butcher a beef +with a penknife! We’ll have to take it raw, +and dog-fashion at that.”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t I heard of bamboo knives?” said +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Bamboo?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I can’t say, but as I remember, it +seems to me that the varnish-like glaze–”</p> + +<p>“Silica? Say, that would cut meat. But +where in–where in hades are the bamboos?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I can’t say. Only I remember that +I have seen them in other tropical places, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Meantime I prefer cocoanuts, until we +have a fire to broil our steaks,” remarked Miss +Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Ditto, Miss Jenny, long’s we have the nuts +and no meat. I’m a vegetarian now–but +maybe my mouth ain’t watering for something +else. Look at all those chops and roasts and +stews running around out there!”</p> + +<p>“They are making for the grass,” observed +Winthrope. “Hadn’t we better start?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span>“Nuts won’t weigh so much without the shells. +We’ll eat right here.”</p> + +<p>There were only a few nuts left. They were +drained and cracked and scooped out, one after +another. The last chanced to break evenly +across the middle.</p> + +<p>“Hello,” said Blake, “the lower part of +this will do for a bowl, Miss Jenny. When +you’ve eaten the cream, put it in your pocket. +Say, Win, have you got the bottle and keys +and–”</p> + +<p>“All safe–everything.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure, Mr. Winthrope?” asked Miss +Leslie. “Men’s pockets seem so open. Twice +I’ve had to pick up Mr. Blake’s locket.”</p> + +<p>“Locket?” echoed Blake.</p> + +<p>“The ivory locket. Women may be curious, +Mr. Blake, but I assure you, I did not look +inside, though–”</p> + +<p>“Let me–give it here–quick!” gasped +Blake.</p> + +<p>Startled by his tone and look, Miss Leslie +caught an oval object from the side pocket of the +coat, and thrust it into Blake’s outstretched hand. +For a moment he stared at it, unable to believe +his eyes; then he leaped up, with a yell that +sent the droves of zebras and antelope flying into +the tall grass.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span>“Oh! oh!” screamed Miss Leslie. “Is it a +snake? Are you bitten?”</p> + +<p>“Bitten?–Yes, by John Barleycorn! Must +have been fuzzy drunk to put it in my coat. +Always carry it in my fob pocket. What a +blasted infernal idiot I’ve been! Kick me, Win,–kick me hard!”</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake, what is it? I don’t quite take +you. If you would only–”</p> + +<p>“Fire!–<i>fire!</i> Can’t you see? We’ve got +all hell beat! Look here.”</p> + +<p>He snapped open the slide of the supposed +locket, and before either of his companions could +realize what he would be about, was focussing the +lens of a surveyor’s magnifying-glass upon the +back of Winthrope’s hand. The Englishman +jerked the hand away–</p> + +<p>“<i>Ow!</i> That burns!”</p> + +<p>Blake shook the glass in their bewildered faces.</p> + +<p>“Look there!” he shouted, “there’s fire; +there’s water; there’s birds’ eggs and beefsteaks! +Here’s where we trek on the back trail. We’ll +smoke out that leopard in short order!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say, Blake–”</p> + +<p>“No; I mean to do! Don’t worry. You can +hide with Miss Jenny on the point, while I +engineer the deal. Fall in.”</p> + +<p>The day was still fresh when they found +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +themselves back at the foot of the cliff. Here +arose a heated debate between the men. Winthrope, +stung by Blake’s jeering words, insisted +upon sharing the attack, though with no great +enthusiasm. Much to Blake’s surprise, Miss +Leslie came to the support of the Englishman.</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake,” she argued, “you say it +will be perfectly safe for us here. If so, it will +be safe for myself alone.”</p> + +<p>“I can play this game without him.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt. Yet if, as you say, you expect to +keep off the leopard with a torch, would it not be +well to have Mr. Winthrope at hand with other +torches, should yours burn out?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; if I thought he’d be at hand after the +first scare.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope started off, almost on a run. At +that moment he might have faced the leopard +single-handed. Blake chuckled as he swung +away after his victim. Within ten paces, however, +he paused to call back over his shoulder: +“Get around the point, Miss Jenny, and if you +want something to do, try braiding the cocoanut +fibre.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie made no response; but she stood for +some time gazing after the two men. There was +so much that was characteristic even in this rear +view. For all his anger and his haste, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +Englishman bore himself with an air of well-bred +nicety. His trim, erect figure needed only a fresh +suit to be irreproachable. On the other hand, a +careless observer, at first glance, might have mistaken +Blake, with his flannel shirt and shouldered +club, for a hulking navvy. But there was nothing +of the navvy in his swinging stride or in the resolute +poise of his head as he came up with +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Though the girl was not given to reflection, the +contrast between the two could not but impress +her. How well her countryman–coarse, uncultured, +but full of brute strength and courage–fitted in with these primitive surroundings. +Whereas Winthrope . . . . and herself . . . .</p> + +<p>She fell into a kind of disquieted brown study. +Her eyes had an odd look, both startled and +meditative,–such a look as might be expected +of one who for the first time is peering beneath +the surface of things, and sees the naked Realities +of Life, the real values, bared of masking conventions. +It may have been that she was seeking to +ponder the meaning of her own existence–that +she had caught a glimpse of the vanity and wastefulness, +the utter futility of her life. At the +best, it could only have been a glimpse. But +was not that enough?</p> + +<p>“Of what use are such people as I?” she cried. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +“That man may be rough and coarse,–even a +brute; but he at least does things–I’ll show +him that I can do things, too!”</p> + +<p>She hastened out around the corner of the cliff +to the spot where they had spent the night. Here +she gathered together the cocoanut husks, and +seating herself in the shade of the overhanging +ledges, began to pick at the coarse fibre. It was +cruel work for her soft fingers, not yet fully +healed from the thorn wounds. At times the +pain and an overpowering sense of injury brought +tears to her eyes; still more often she dropped the +work in despair of her awkwardness. Yet always +she returned to the task with renewed energy.</p> + +<p>After no little perseverance, she found how to +twist the fibre and plait it into cord. At best it +was slow work, and she did not see how she +should ever make enough cord for a fish-line. +Yet, as she caught the knack of the work and her +fingers became more nimble, she began to enjoy +the novel pleasure of producing something.</p> + +<p>She had quite forgot to feel injured, and was +learning to endure with patience the rasping of +the fibre between her fingers, when Winthrope +came clambering around the corner of the cliff.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she exclaimed, springing up and +hurrying to meet him. He was white and quivering, +and the look in his eyes filled her with dread.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span>Her voice shrilled to a scream, “He’s dead!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Then he’s hurt!–he’s hurt by that savage +creature, and you’ve run off and left him–”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Miss Genevieve, I must insist! The +fellow is not even scratched.”</p> + +<p>“Then why–?”</p> + +<p>“It was the horror of it all. It actually made +me ill.”</p> + +<p>“You frightened me almost to death. Did the +beast chase you?”</p> + +<p>“That would have been better, in a way. +Really, it was horrible! I’m still sick over it, +Miss Genevieve.”</p> + +<p>“But tell me about it. Did you set fire to the +bushes in the cleft, as Mr. Blake–”</p> + +<p>“Yes; after we had fetched what we could +carry of that long grass–two big trusses. It +grows ten or twelve feet tall, and is now quite +dry. Part of it Blake made into torches, and we +fired the bush all across the foot of the cleft. +Really, one would not have thought there was +that much dry wood in so green a dell. On +either side of the rill the grass and brush flared +like tinder, and the flames swept up the cleft far +quicker than we had expected. We could hear +them crackling and roaring louder than ever after +the smoke shut out our view.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span>“Surely, there is nothing so very horrible in +that.”</p> + +<p>“No, oh, no; it was not that. But the beast–the leopard! At first we heard one roar; then +it was that dreadful snarling and yelling–most +awful squalling! . . . . The wretched thing came +leaping and tumbling down the path, all singed +and blinded. Blake fired the big truss of grass, +and the brute rolled right into the flames. It was +shocking–dreadfully shocking! The wretched +creature writhed and leaped about till it plunged +into the pool. . . . . When it sought to crawl out, +all black and hideous, Blake went up and killed +it with his club–crushed in its skull–Ugh!”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie gazed at the unnerved Englishman +with calm scrutiny.</p> + +<p>“But why should you feel so about it?” she +asked. “Was it not the beast’s life against +ours?”</p> + +<p>“But so horrible a death!”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure Mr. Blake would have preferred to +shoot the creature, had he a gun. Having nothing +else than fire, I think it was all very brave +of him. Now we are sure of water and food. +Had we not best be going?”</p> + +<p>“It was to fetch you that Blake sent me.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope spoke with perceptible stiffness. +He was chagrined, not only by her commendation +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +of Blake, but by the indifference with which she +had met his agitation.</p> + +<p>They started at once, Miss Leslie in the lead. +As they rounded the point, she caught sight of +the smoke still rising from the cleft. A little +later she noticed the vultures which were streaming +down out of the sky from all quarters other +than seaward. Their focal point seemed to be +the trees at the foot of the cleft. A nearer view +showed that they were alighting in the thorn +bushes on the south border of the wood.</p> + +<p>Of Blake there was nothing to be seen until +Miss Leslie, still in the lead, pushed in among +the trees. There they found him crouched +beside a small fire, near the edge of the pool. +He did not look up. His eyes were riveted in a +hungry stare upon several pieces of flesh, suspended +over the flames on spits of green twigs.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he sang out, as he heard their footsteps. +“Just in time, Miss Jenny. Your broiled +steak’ll be ready in short order.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, build up the fire! I’m simply ravenous!” +she exclaimed, between impatience and +delight.</p> + +<p>Winthrope was hardly less keen; yet his +hunger did not altogether blunt his curiosity.</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake,” he inquired, “where did you +get the meat?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>“Stow it, Win, my boy. This ain’t a packing +house. The stuff may be tough, but it’s not–er–the other thing. Here you are, Miss Jenny. +Chew it off the stick.”</p> + +<p>Though Winthrope had his suspicions, he took +the piece of half-burned flesh which Blake handed +him in turn, and fell to eating without further +question. As Blake had surmised, the roast +proved far other than tender. Hunger, however, +lent it a most appetizing flavor. The repast +ended when there was nothing left to devour. +Blake threw away his empty spit, and rose to +stretch. He waited for Miss Leslie to swallow +her last mouthful, and then began to chuckle.</p> + +<p>“What’s the joke?” asked Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Blake looked at him solemnly.</p> + +<p>“Well now, that was downright mean of me,” +he drawled; “after robbing them, to laugh at +it!”</p> + +<p>“Robbing who?”</p> + +<p>“The buzzards.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve fed us on leopard meat! It’s–it’s +disgusting!”</p> + +<p>“I found it filling. How about you, Miss +Jenny?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie did not know whether to laugh or +to give way to a feeling of nausea. She did +neither.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span>“Can we not find the spring of which you +spoke?” she asked. “I am thirsty.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess the fire is about burnt out,” +assented Blake. “Come on; we’ll see.”</p> + +<p>The cleft now had a far different aspect from +what it had presented on their first visit. The +largest of the trees, though scorched about the +base, still stood with unwithered foliage, little +harmed by the fire. But many of their small +companions had been killed and partly destroyed +by the heat and flames from the burning brush. +In places the fire was yet smouldering.</p> + +<p>Blake picked a path along the edge of the rill, +where the moist vegetation, though scorched, had +refused to burn. After the first abrupt ledge, up +which Blake had to drag his companions, the +ascent was easy. But as they climbed around +an outjutting corner of the steep right wall of the +cleft, Blake muttered a curse of disappointment. +He could now see that the cleft did not run to +the top of the cliff, but through it, like a tiny box +canyon. The sides rose sheer and smooth as +walls. Midway, at the highest point of the cleft, +the baobab towered high above the ridge crest, +its gigantic trunk filling a third of the breadth of +the little gorge. Unfortunately it stood close to +the left wall.</p> + +<p>“Here’s luck for you!” growled Blake. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +“Why couldn’t the blamed old tree have grown +on the other side? We might have found a way +to climb it. Guess we’ll have to smoke out +another leopard. We’re no nearer those birds’ +nests than we were yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, look here!” exclaimed Winthrope. +“This is our chance for antelope! Here by the +spring are bamboos–real bamboos,–and only +half the thicket burned.”</p> + +<p>“What of them?” demanded Blake.</p> + +<p>“Bows–arrows–and did you not agree that +they would make knives?”</p> + +<p>“Umph–we’ll see. What is it, Miss Jenny?”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that a hole in the big tree?”</p> + +<p>“Looks like it. These baobabs are often +hollow.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps that is where the leopard had his +den,” added Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t wonder. We’ll go and see.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake,” protested the girl, “may +there not be other leopards?”</p> + +<p>“Might have been; but I’ll bet they lit out +with the other. Look how the tree is scorched. +Must have been stacks of dry brush around the +hole, ’nough to smoke out a fireman. We’ll +look and see if they left any soup bones lying +around. First, though, here’s your drink, Miss +Jenny.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span>As he spoke, Blake kicked aside some smouldering +branches, and led the way to the crevice +whence the spring trickled from the rock into a +shallow stone basin. When all had drunk their +fill of the clear cool water, Blake took up his +club and walked straight across to the baobab. +Less than thirty steps brought him to the narrow +opening in the trunk of the huge tree. At +first he could make out nothing in the dimly +lit interior; but the fetid, catty odor was enough +to convince him that he had found the leopards’ +den.</p> + +<p>He caught the vague outlines of a long body, +crouched five or six yards away, on the far side +of the hollow. He sprang back, his club brandished +to strike. But the expected attack did not +follow. Blake glanced about as though considering +the advisability of a retreat. Winthrope and +Miss Leslie were staring at him, white-faced. +The sight of their terror seemed to spur him to +dare-devil bravado; though his actions may +rather have been due to the fact that he realized +the futility of flight, and so rose to the requirements +of the situation–the grim need to stand +and face the danger.</p> + +<p>“Get behind the bamboos!” he called, and as +they hurriedly obeyed, he caught up a stone and +flung it in at the crouching beast.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span>He heard the missile strike with a soft thud +that told him he had not missed his mark, and he +swung up his club in both hands. Given half a +chance, he would smash the skull of the female +leopard as he had crushed her blinded mate. . . . . +One moment after another passed, and he stood +poised for the shock, tense and scowling. . . . . +Not so much as a snarl came from within. The +truth flashed upon him.</p> + +<p>“Smothered!” he yelled.</p> + +<p>The others saw him dart in through the hole. +A moment later two limp grayish bodies were +flung out into the open. Immediately after, +Blake reappeared, dragging the body of the +mother leopard.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right; they’re dead!” cried Winthrope, +and he ran forward to look at the +bodies.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie followed, hardly less curious.</p> + +<p>“Are they all dead, Mr. Blake?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Wiped out–whole family. The old cat +stayed by her kittens, and all smothered together–lucky for us! Get busy with those bamboos, +Win. I’m going to have these skins, and the +sooner we get the cub meat hung up and curing, +the better for us.”</p> + +<p>“Leopard meat again!” rejoined Winthrope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span>“Spring leopard, young and tender! What +more could you ask? Get a move on you.”</p> + +<p>“Can I do anything, Mr. Blake?” asked Miss +Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Hunt a shady spot.”</p> + +<p>“But I really mean it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if that’s straight, you might go on +along the gully, and see if there’s any place to +get to the top. You could pick up sticks on the +way back, if any are left. We’ll have to fumigate +this tree hole before we adopt it for a +residence.”</p> + +<p>“Will it be long before you finish with your–with +the bodies?”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, look here, Miss Jenny; it’s going +to be a mess, and I wouldn’t mind hauling the +carcasses clear down the gully, out of sight, if +it was to be the only time. But it’s not, and +you’ve got to get used to it, sooner or later. So +we’ll start now.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose, if I must, Mr. Blake– Really, +I wish to help.”</p> + +<p>“Good. That’s something like! Think you +can learn to cook?”</p> + +<p>“See what I did this morning.”</p> + +<p>Blake took the cord of cocoanut fibre which +she held out to him, and tested its strength.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be–blessed!” he said. “This <i>is</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +something like. If you don’t look out, you’ll +make quite a camp-mate, Miss Jenny. But now, +trot along. This is hardly arctic weather, and our +abattoir don’t include a cold-storage plant. The +sooner these lambs are dressed, the better.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class='h2fs'>PROBLEMS IN WOODCRAFT</span></h2> + +<p>It was no pleasant sight that met Miss +Leslie’s gaze upon her return. The neatest +of butchering can hardly be termed aesthetic; +and Blake and Winthrope lacked both skill and +tools. Between the penknife and an improvised +blade of bamboo, they had flayed the two cubs +and haggled off the flesh. The ragged strips, +spitted on bamboo rods, were already searing in +the fierce sun-rays.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie would have slipped into the hollow +of the baobab with her armful of fagots and +brush; but Blake waved a bloody knife above +the body of the mother leopard, and beckoned +the girl to come nearer.</p> + +<p>“Hold on a minute, please,” he said. “What +did you find out?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie drew a few steps nearer, and forced +herself to look at the revolting sight. She found +it still more difficult to withstand the odor of the +fresh blood. Winthrope was pale and nauseated. +The sight of his distress caused the girl to forget +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +her own loathing. She drew a deep breath, and +succeeded in countering Blake’s expectant look +with a half-smile.</p> + +<p>“How well you are getting along!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t think you could stand it. But you’ve +got grit all right, if you <i>are</i> a lady,” Blake +said admiringly. “Say, you’ll make it yet! +Now, how about the gully?”</p> + +<p>“There is no place to climb up. It runs along +like this, and then slopes down. But there is a +cliff at the end, as high as these walls.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty feet,” muttered Blake. “Confound +the luck! It isn’t that jump-off; but how in–how +are we going to get up on the cliff? There’s +an everlasting lot of omelettes in those birds’ +nests. If only that bloomin’–how’s that, Win, +me b’y?–that bloomin’, blawsted baobab was +on t’ other side. The wood’s almost soft as punk. +We could drive in pegs, and climb up the trunk.”</p> + +<p>“There are other trees beyond it,” remarked +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Then maybe we can shin up–”</p> + +<p>“I fear the branches that overhang the cliff are +too slender to bear any weight.”</p> + +<p>“And it’s too infernally high to climb up to +this overhanging baobab limb.”</p> + +<p>“I say,” ventured Winthrope, “if we had a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +axe, now, we might cut up one of the trees, and +make a ladder.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; and if we had a ladder, we might +climb up the cliff!”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake, is there not some way to cut +down one of the trees? The tree itself would be +a ladder if it fell in such a way as to lean against +the cliff.”</p> + +<p>“There’s only the penknife,” answered Blake. +“So I guess we’ll have to scratch eggs off our +menu card. Spring leopard for ours! Now, if +you really want to help, you might scrape the +soup bones out of your boudoir, and fetch a lot +more brush. It’ll take a big fire to rid the hole +of that cat smell.”</p> + +<p>“Will not the tree burn?”</p> + +<p>“No; these hollow baobabs have green bark +on the inside as well as out. Funny thing, that! +We’d have to keep a fire going a long time to +burn through.”</p> + +<p>“Yet it would burn in time?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but we’re not going to–”</p> + +<p>“Then why not burn through the trunk of +one of those small trees, instead of chopping it +down?”</p> + +<p>“By–heck, Miss Jenny, you’ve got an +American headpiece! Come on. Sooner we get +the thing started, the better.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span>Neither Winthrope nor Miss Leslie was reluctant +to leave the vicinity of the carcasses. They +followed close after Blake, around the monstrous +bole of the baobab. A little beyond it stood a +group of slender trees, whose trunks averaged +eight inches thick at the base. Blake stopped at +the second one, which grew nearest to the seaward +side of the cleft.</p> + +<p>“Here’s our ladder,” he said. “Get some +firewood. Pound the bushes, though, before you +go poking into them. May be snakes here.”</p> + +<p>“Snakes?–oh!” cried Miss Leslie, and she +stood shuddering at the danger she had already +incurred.</p> + +<p>The fire had burnt itself out on a bare ledge of +rock between them and the baobab, and the +clumps of dry brush left standing in this end of +the cleft were very suggestive of snakes, now +that Blake had called attention to the possibility +of their presence.</p> + +<p>He laughed at his hesitating companions. “Go +on, go on! Don’t squeal till you’re bit. Most +snakes hike out, if you give them half a chance. +Take a stick, each of you, and pound the bushes.”</p> + +<p>Thus urged, both started to work. But neither +ventured into the thicker clumps. When they +returned, with large armfuls of sticks and twigs, +they found that Blake had used his glass to light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +a handful of dry bark, out in the sun, and was +nursing it into a small fire at the base of the tree, +on the side next the cliff.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Jenny,” he directed, “you’re to +keep this going–not too big a fire–understand? +Same time you can keep on fetching +brush to fumigate your cat hole. It needs it, all +right.”</p> + +<p>“Will not that be rather too much for Miss +Leslie?” asked Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Well, if she’d rather come and rub brains on +the skins,–Indian tan, you know,–or–”</p> + +<p>“How can you mention such things before a +lady?” protested Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Beg your pardon, Miss Leslie! you see, I’m +not much used to ladies’ company. Anyway, +you’ve got to see and hear about these things. +And now I’ll have to get the strings for Win’s +bamboo bows. Come on, Win. We’ve got that +old tabby to peel, and a lot more besides.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie’s first impulse was to protest against +being left alone, when at any moment some +awful venomous serpent might come darting at +her out of the brush or the crevices in the rocks. +But her half-parted lips drew firmly together, and +after a moment’s hesitancy, she forced herself to +the task which had been assigned her. The fire, +once started, required little attention. She could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +give most of her time to gathering brush for the +fumigation of the leopard den.</p> + +<p>She had collected quite a heap of fuel at the +entrance of the hollow, when she remembered that +the place would first have to be cleared of its accumulation +of bones. A glance at her companions +showed that they were in the midst of tasks even +more revolting. It was certainly disagreeable to +do such things; yet, as Mr. Blake had said, others +had to do them. It was now her time to learn. +She could see him smile at her hesitation.</p> + +<p>Stung by the thought of his half contemptuous +pity, she caught up a forked stick, and forced +herself to enter the tree-cave. The stench met +her like a blow. It nauseated and all but overpowered +her. She stood for several moments in +the centre of the cavity, sick and faint. Had it +been even the previous day, she would have run +out into the open air.</p> + +<p>Presently she grew a little more accustomed to +the stench, and began to rake over the soft dry +mould of the den floor with her forked stick. +Bones!–who had ever dreamed of such a mess +of bones?–big bones and little bones and skulls; +old bones, dry and almost buried; mouldy bones; +bones still half-covered with bits of flesh and +gristle–the remnants of the leopard family’s last +meal.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span>At last all were scraped out and flung in a heap, +three or four yards away from the entrance. Miss +Leslie looked at the result of her labor with a +satisfied glance, followed by a sigh of relief. Between +the heat and her unwonted exercise, she +was greatly fatigued. She stepped around to a +shadier spot to rest.</p> + +<p>With a start, she remembered the fire.</p> + +<p>When she reached it there were only a few +dying embers left. She gathered dead leaves and +shreds of fibrous inner bark, and knelt beside the +dull coals to blow them into life. She could not +bear the thought of having to confess her carelessness +to Blake.</p> + +<p>The hot ashes flew up in her face and powdered +her hair with their gray dust; yet she persisted, +blowing steadily until a shred of bark caught the +sparks and flared up in a tiny flame. A little +more, and she had a strong fire blazing against +the tree trunk.</p> + +<p>She rested a short time, relaxing both mentally +and physically in the satisfying consciousness that +Blake never should know how near she had come +to failing in her trust.</p> + +<p>Soon she became aware of a keen feeling of +thirst and hunger. She rose, piled a fresh supply +of sticks on the fire, and hastened back through +the cleft towards the spring. Around the baobab +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +she came upon Winthrope, working in the shade +of the great tree. The three leopard skins had +been stretched upon bamboo frames, and he was +resignedly scraping at their inner surfaces with a +smooth-edged stone. Miss Leslie did not look too +closely at the operation.</p> + +<p>“Where is–he?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Winthrope motioned down the cleft.</p> + +<p>“I hope he hasn’t gone far. I’m half famished. +Aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Really, Miss Genevieve, it is odd, you know. +Not an hour since, the very thought of food–”</p> + +<p>“And now you’re as hungry as I am. Oh, I +do wish he had not gone off just at the wrong +time!”</p> + +<p>“He went to take a dip in the sea. You know, +he got so messed up over the nastiest part of the +work, which I positively refused to do–”</p> + +<p>“What’s that beyond the bamboos?–There’s +something alive!”</p> + +<p>“Pray, don’t be alarmed. It is–er–it’s all +right, Miss Genevieve, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>“But what is it? Such queer noises, and I +see something alive!”</p> + +<p>“Only the vultures, if you must know. Nothing +else, I assure you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!”</p> + +<p>“It is all out of sight from the spring. You are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +not to go around the bamboos until the–that is, +not to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Did Mr. Blake say that?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes–to be sure. He also said to tell +you that the cutlets were on the top shelf.”</p> + +<p>“You mean –?”</p> + +<p>“His way of ordering you to cook our dinner. +Really, Miss Genevieve, I should be pleased to +take your place, but I have been told to keep to +this. It is hard to take orders from a low fellow,–very hard for a gentleman, you know.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie gazed at her shapely hands. Three +days since she could not have conceived of their +being so rough and scratched and dirty. Yet +her disgust at their condition was not entirely +unqualified.</p> + +<p>“At least I have something to show for them,” +she murmured.</p> + +<p>“I beg pardon,” said Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Just look at my hands–like a servant’s! +And yet I am not nearly so ashamed of them as +I would have fancied. It is very amusing, but +do you know, I actually feel proud that I have +done something–something useful, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Useful?–I call it shocking, Miss Genevieve. +It is simply vile that people of our breeding +should be compelled to do such menial work. +They write no end of romances about castaways; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +but I fail to see the romance in scraping skins +Indian fashion, as this fellow Blake calls it.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose, though, we should remember how +much Mr. Blake is doing for us, and should try +to make the best of the situation.”</p> + +<p>“It has no best. It is all a beastly muddle,” +complained Winthrope, and he resumed his nervous +scraping at the big leopard skin.</p> + +<p>The girl studied his face for a moment, and +turned away. She had been trying so hard to +forget.</p> + +<p>He heard her leave, and called after, without +looking up: “Please remember. He said to +cook some meat.”</p> + +<p>She did not answer. Having satisfied her +thirst at the spring, she took one of the bamboo +rods, with its haggled blackening pieces of flesh, +and returned to the fire. After some little experimenting, +she contrived a way to support the +rod beside the fire so that all the meat would +roast without burning.</p> + +<p>At first, keen as was her hunger, she turned +with disgust from the flabby sun-seared flesh; +but as it began to roast, the odor restored her +appetite to full vigor. Her mouth fairly watered. +It seemed as though Winthrope and Blake would +never come. She heard their voices, and took +the bamboo spit from the fire for the meat to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +cool. Still they failed to appear, and unable to +wait longer, she began to eat. The cub meat +proved far more tender than that of the old +leopard. She had helped herself to the second +piece before the two men appeared.</p> + +<p>“Hold on, Miss Jenny; fair play!” sang out +Blake. “You’ve set to without tooting the +dinner-horn. I don’t blame you, though. That +smells mighty good.”</p> + +<p>Both men caught at the hot meat with eagerness, +and Winthrope promptly forgot all else in +the animal pleasure of satisfying his hunger. +Blake, though no less hungry, only waited to fill +his mouth before investigating the condition of +the prospective tree ladder. The result of the +attempt to burn the trunk did not seem encouraging +to the others, and Miss Leslie looked away, +that her face might not betray her, should he +have an inkling of her neglect. She was relieved +by the cheerfulness of his tone.</p> + +<p>“Slow work, this fire business–eh? Guess, +though, it’ll go faster this afternoon. The green +wood is killed and is getting dried out. Anyway, +we’ve got to keep at it till the tree goes +over. This spring leopard won’t last long at the +present rate of consumption, and we’ll need the +eggs to keep us going till we get the hang of our +bows.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span>“What is that smoke back there?” interrupted +Miss Leslie. “Can it be that the fire down the +cleft has sprung up again?”</p> + +<p>“No; it’s your fumigation. You had plenty +of brush on hand, so I heaved it into the hole, +and touched it off. While it’s burning out, you +can put in time gathering grass and leaves for a +bed.”</p> + +<p>“Would you and Mr. Winthrope mind breaking +off some bamboos for me?”</p> + +<p>“What for?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie colored and hesitated. “I–I +should like to divide off a corner of the place +with a wall or screen.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope tried to catch Blake’s eye; but the +American was gazing at Miss Leslie’s embarrassed +face with a puzzled look. Her meaning +dawned upon him, and he hastened to reply.</p> + +<p>“All right, Miss Jenny. You can build your +wall to suit yourself. But there’ll be no hurry +over it. Until the rains begin, Win and I’ll sleep +out in the open. We’ll have to take turn about +on watch at night, anyway. If we don’t keep +up a fire, some other spotted kitty will be sure to +come nosing up the gully.”</p> + +<p>“There must also be lions in the vicinity,” +added Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie said nothing until after the last +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +pieces of meat had been handed around, and +Blake sprang up to resume work.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake,” she called, in a low tone; “one +moment, please. Would it save much bother if +a door was made, and you and Mr. Winthrope +should sleep inside?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see about that later,” replied Blake, +carelessly.</p> + +<p>The girl bit her lip, and the tears started to her +eyes. Even Winthrope had started off without +expressing his appreciation. Yet he at least +should have realized how much it had cost her +to make such an offer.</p> + +<p>By evening she had her tree-cave–house, she +preferred to name it to herself–in a habitable +condition. When the purifying fire had burnt +itself out, leaving the place free from all odors +other than the wholesome smell of wood smoke, +she had asked Blake how she could rake out the +ashes. His advice was to wet them down where +they lay.</p> + +<p>This was easier said than done. Fortunately, +the spring was only a few yards distant, and after +many trips, with her palm-leaf hat for bowl, the +girl carried enough water to sprinkle all the +powdery ashes. Over them she strewed the leaves +and grass which she had gathered while the fire +was burning. The driest of the grass, arranged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +in a far corner, promised a more comfortable bed +than had been her lot for the last three nights.</p> + +<p>During this work she had been careful not to +forget the fire at the tree. Yet when, near sundown, +she called the others to the third meal of +leopard meat, Blake grumbled at the tree for +being what he termed such a confounded tough +proposition.</p> + +<p>“Good thing there’s lots of wood here, Win,” +he added. “We’ll keep this fire going till the +blamed thing topples over, if it takes a year.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you surely will not stay so far from +the baobab to-night!” exclaimed Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Hold hard!” soothed Blake. “You’ve no +license to get the jumps yet a while. We’ll have +another fire by the baobab. So you needn’t +worry.”</p> + +<p>A few minutes later they went back to the +baobab, and Winthrope began helping Miss Leslie +to construct a bamboo screen in the narrow entrance +of the tree-cave, while Blake built the +second fire.</p> + +<p>As Winthrope was unable to tell time by the +stars, Blake took the first watch. At sunset, +following the engineer’s advice, Winthrope lay +down with his feet to the small watch-fire, and +was asleep before twilight had deepened into +night. Fagged out by the mental and bodily +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +stress of the day, he slept so soundly that it +seemed to him he had hardly lost consciousness +when he was roused by a rough hand on his +forehead.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he mumbled.</p> + +<p>“’Bout one o’clock,” said Blake. “Wake up! +I ran overtime, ’cause the morning watch is the +toughest. But I can’t keep ’wake any longer.”</p> + +<p>“I say, this is a beastly bore,” remarked +Winthrope, sitting up.</p> + +<p>“Um-m,” grunted Blake, who was already on +his back.</p> + +<p>Winthrope rubbed his eyes, rose wearily, and +drew a blazing stick from the fire. With this upraised +as a torch, he peered around into the darkness, +and advanced towards the spring.</p> + +<p>When, having satisfied his thirst, he returned +somewhat hurriedly to the fire, he was startled by +the sight of a pale face gazing at him from between +the leaves of the bamboo screen.</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve, what is the matter?” +he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Hush! Is he asleep?”</p> + +<p>“Like a top.”</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven! . . . . Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night–er–I say, Miss Genevieve–”</p> + +<p>But the girl disappeared, and Winthrope, after +a glance at Blake’s placid face, hurried along the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +cleft to stack the other fire. When he returned +he noticed two bamboo rods which Blake had begun +to shape into bow staves. He looked them +over, with a sneer at Blake’s seemingly unskilful +workmanship; but he made no attempt to finish +the bows.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>A DESPOILED WARDROBE</span></h2> + +<p>Soon after sunrise Miss Leslie was awakened +by the snap and dull crash of a falling +tree. She made a hasty toilet, and ran out +around the baobab. The burned tree, eaten half +through by the fire, had been pushed over against +the cliff by Blake and Winthrope. Both had +already climbed up, and now stood on the edge +of the cliff.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Miss Jenny!” shouted Blake. “We’ve +got here at last. Want to come up?”</p> + +<p>“Not now, thank you.”</p> + +<p>“It’s easy enough. But you’re right. Try +your hand again at the cutlets, won’t you? While +they’re frying, we’ll get some eggs for dessert +How does that strike you?”</p> + +<p>“We have no way to cook them.”</p> + +<p>“Roast ’em in the ashes. So long!”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie cooked breakfast over the watch-fire, +for the other had been scattered and stamped +out by the men when the tree fell. They came +back in good time, walking carefully, that they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +might not break the eggs with which their pockets +bulged. Between them, they had brought a round +dozen and a half. Blake promptly began stowing +all in the hot ashes, while Winthrope related +their little adventure with unwonted enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“You should have come with us, Miss Genevieve,” +he began. “This time of day it is +glorious on the cliff top. Though the rock is +bare, there is a fine view–”</p> + +<p>“Fine view of grub near the end,” interpolated +Blake.</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; the birds–you must take a look +at them, Miss Genevieve! The sea end of the +cliff is alive with them–hundreds and thousands, +all huddled together and fighting for room. They +are a sight, I assure you! They’re plucky, too. +It was well we took sticks with us. As it was, +one of the gannets–boobies, Blake calls them–caught +me a nasty nip when I went to lift her off +the nest.”</p> + +<p>“Best way is to kick them off,” explained +Blake. “But the point is that we’ve hopped +over the starvation stile. Understand? The +whole blessed cliff end is an omelette waiting for +our pan. Pass the leopardettes, Miss Jenny.”</p> + +<p>When the last bit of meat had disappeared, +Blake raked the eggs from the ashes, and began +to crack them, solemnly sniffing at each before he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +laid it on its leaf platter. Some were a trifle +“high.” None, however, were thrown away.</p> + +<p>When it was all over, Winthrope contemplated +the scattered shells with a satisfied air.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” he remarked, “this is the first +time I have felt–er–replenished since we +found those cocoanuts.”</p> + +<p>“How about one of ’em now to top off on?” +questioned Blake.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie sighed. “Why did you speak of +them! I am still hungry enough to eat more +eggs–a dozen–that is, if we had a little salt +and butter.”</p> + +<p>“And a silver cup and napkins!” added Blake. +“About the salt, though, we’ll have to get some +before long, and some kind of vegetable food. +It won’t do to keep up this whole meat menu.”</p> + +<p>“If only those little bamboo sprouts were as +good as they look–like a kind of asparagus!” +murmured Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard that the Chinese eat them,” said +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“They eat rats, too,” commented Blake.</p> + +<p>“We might at least try them,” persisted Miss +Leslie.</p> + +<p>“How? Raw?”</p> + +<p>“I have heard papa tell of roasting corn when +he was a boy.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span>“That’s so; and roasting-ears are better than +boiled. Win, I guess we’ll have a sample of +bamboo asparagus <i>à la</i> Les-lee!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope took the penknife, and fetched a +handful of young sprouts from the bamboo +thicket. They were heated over the coals on a +grill of green branches, and devoured half raw.</p> + +<p>“Say,” mumbled Blake, as he ruminated on +the last shoot, “we’re getting on some for this +smell hole of a coast: house and chicken ranch, +and vegetables in our front yard– We’ve got +old Bobbie Crusoe beat, hands down, on the +start-off, and he with his shipful of stuff for +handicap!”</p> + +<p>“Then you believe that the situation looks +more hopeful, Mr. Blake?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ve at least got an extension on our +note for a week or two. But I’m not going to +coddle you with a lot of lies, Miss Jenny. +There’s the fever coming, sure as fate. I may +stave it off a while; you and Win, ten to one, +will be down in a few days–and not a smell +of quinine in our commissary. Then there’ll be +dysentery and snakes and wild beasts–No; +we’re not out of the woods yet, not by a–considerable.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove, Blake,” muttered Winthrope, “I +must say, you’re not very encouraging.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span>“Didn’t say I was trying to be.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake, I am sure papa will offer a +large reward when the steamer is reported as lost. +There will be ships searching for us–”</p> + +<p>“We’re not in the British Channel, and I’ll +bet what few boats do coast along here don’t nose +about much among these coral reefs.”</p> + +<p>“I fancy it would do no harm to erect a signal,” +said Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Only thing that would make a show is Miss +Leslie’s skirt,” replied Blake.</p> + +<p>“There is the big leopard skin,” persisted +Winthrope. To his surprise the engineer took +the suggestion under serious consideration.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “If we had +a water background, now. But against the rock +and trees,–no; what we want is white. I’ll tell +you–when Miss Jenny sets to and makes herself +a dress of that skin, I’ll fly her skirt to the +zephyrs.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake! I really think that is cruel of +you!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now; that’s not fair! I wouldn’t +have said a word, but you said you wanted to +help.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake. I–I did not +quite understand you. I really do want to help–to do my share–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span>“Now you’re talking! You see, it’s not only +a question of the signal, but of clothes. We’ve +got to figure anyway on needing new ones before +long. Look at my pants and vest, and Win’s too. +Inside a month we’ll all be in hide–or in hiding. +That’s a joke, Win, me b’y; see?”</p> + +<p>“But in the meantime–” began Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“In the meantime we’re like to miss a chance +or two of being picked up, just because we’ve +failed to stick out a signal that’d catch the eye +twice as far off as any other color than scarlet. +Do you suppose I worked my way up from axeman +to engineer, and didn’t learn anything about +flags?”</p> + +<p>“But it is all really too absurd! I do not know +the first thing about sewing, and I have neither +thread nor needle.”</p> + +<p>“It’s up to you, though, if you want to help. +My sisters sewed mighty soon after they learned +to toddle. ’Bout time you learned– There, +now; I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You’ve +made a fair stagger at cooking, and I bet you win +out on the dressmaking. For needle you can use +one of these long slim thorns–poke a hole, and +then slip the thread through, like a shoemaker.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; but the thread?” put in Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“The cocoanut fibre would hardly do,” said +Miss Leslie, forgetting to dry her eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span>“No. We could get fairly good fibres out +of the palm leaves; but catgut will be a whole +lot better. I’ll slit up a lot for you, fine +enough to sew with. And now, let’s get down +to tacks. No offence–but did either of you +ever learn to do anything useful in all your +blessed little lives?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Blake, of course I–”</p> + +<p>“Of course what?” demanded Blake, as Miss +Leslie hesitated. “We know all about your +cooking and sewing. What else?”</p> + +<p>“I–I see what you meant. I fear that nothing +of what I learned would be of service now.”</p> + +<p>“Boarding-school rot, eh? And you, Winthrope?”</p> + +<p>“If you would kindly name over what you +have in mind.”</p> + +<p>“Um!” grunted Blake. “Well, it’s first of all +a question of a practical–practical, mind you,–knowledge of metallurgy, ceramics, and how +to stick an arrow through a beef roast.”</p> + +<p>“I–ah–I believe I intimated that I have +some knowledge of archery. But I doubt–”</p> + +<p>“Cut it out! You’ll have enough else to do. +Get busy over those bows and arrows, and don’t +quit till you’ve got them in shape. Leave my +bow good and stiff. I can pull like a mule can +kick. Well, Miss Jenny; what is it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span>“Is not–has not ceramics something to do +with burning china?”</p> + +<p>“Sure!–china, pottery, and all that. Know +anything about it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I have a friend who amuses herself by +painting china, and I know it has to be burned.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s all!” grunted Blake. “Well, let +me tell you. When I was a little kid I used to +work in a pottery. All I can remember is that +they’d take clay, shape it into a pot, dry it, and +bake the thing in a kiln. We’ve got to work the +same game somehow. This kind of eating will +mean dysentery in short order. So there’s going +to be a bean-pot for our stews, or Tom Blake’ll +know the reason why. Nurse up that ankle of +yours, Win. We’ll trek it to-morrow–cocoanuts, +and maybe something else. There’s clay +on the far bank of the river, and across from it I +saw a streak that looked like brown hæmatite.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST</span></h2> + +<p>The next four days slipped by almost unheeded. +Blake saw to it that not only +himself but his companions had work to +occupy every hour of daylight. When not engaged +in cooking and fuel gathering, Miss Leslie +was learning by painful experience the rudiments +of dressmaking.</p> + +<p>At the start she had all but ruined the beautiful +skin of the mother leopard before Blake chanced +to see her and took over the task of cutting it +into shape for a skirt. But when it came to +making a waist of the cub fur, he said that she +would have to puzzle out the pattern from her +other one. Between cooking three meals a day +over an open fire, gathering several armfuls of +wood, and making a dress with penknife, thorn, +and catgut, the girl had little time to think of +other matters than her work.</p> + +<p>Winthrope had been gazetted as hunter in +ordinary. His task was to keep Miss Leslie supplied +with fresh eggs and each day to kill as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +many of the boobies and cormorants as he could +skin and split for drying. Blake had changed +his mind about taking him when he went for +cocoanuts. Instead, he had gone alone on several +trips, bringing three or four loads of nuts, +then a little salt from the seashore, dirty but very +welcome, and last of all a great lump of clay, +wrapped in palm fronds.</p> + +<p>With this clay he at once began experiments +in the art of pottery. Having mixed and beaten +a small quantity, he moulded it into little cups +and bowls, and tried burning them over night in +the watch-fire. A few came out without crack or +flaw. Vastly elated by this success, he fashioned +larger vessels from his clay, and within the week +could brag of two pots suitable for cooking stews, +and four large nondescript pieces which he called +plates. What was more, all had a fairly good +sand glaze, for he had been quick to observe a +glaze on the bottoms of the first pots, and had +reasoned out that it was due to the sand which +had adhered while they stood drying in the sun.</p> + +<p>He next turned his attention to metallurgy. +The first move was to search the river bank for +the brown bog iron ore which he believed he +had seen from the farther side. After a dangerous +and exhausting day’s work in the mire and +jungle, he came back with nothing more to show +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +for his pains than an armful of creepers. Late +in the afternoon, he had located the hæmatite, +only to find it lying in a streak so thin that he +could not hope to collect enough for practical +purposes.</p> + +<p>“Lucky we’ve got something to fall back on,” +he added, after telling of his failure. “Pass over +those keys of yours, Win. Good! Now untangle +those creepers. To-night we’ll take turns +knotting them up into some sort of a rope-ladder. +I’m getting mighty weary of hoofing it all +around the point every time I trot to the river. +After this I’ll go down the cliff at that end of +the gully.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope, who had become very irritable and +depressed during the last two days, turned on +his heel, with the look of a fretful child.</p> + +<p>To cover this undiplomatic rudeness, Miss +Leslie spoke somewhat hurriedly. “But why +should you return again to the river, Mr. Blake? +I’m sure you are risking the fever; and there +must be savage beasts in the jungle.”</p> + +<p>“That’s my business,” growled Blake. He +paused a moment, and added, rather less ungraciously, +“Well, if you care, it’s this way–I’m +going to keep on looking for ore. Give me +a little iron ore, and we’ll mighty soon have a +lot of steel knives and arrow-heads that’ll amount +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +to something. How’re we going to bag anything +worth while with bamboo tips on our arrows? +Those boar tusks are a fizzle.”</p> + +<p>“So you will continue to risk your life for us? +I think that is very brave and generous, Mr. +Blake!”</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” demanded Blake, not a little +puzzled. He was fully conscious of the risk; but +this was the first intimation he had received or +conceived that his motives were other than selfish–“Um-m! +So that’s the ticket. Getting +generous, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Not getting–you <i>are</i> generous! When I +think of all you have done for us! Had it not +been for you, I am sure we should have died +that first day ashore.”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t blame me. I couldn’t have let +a dog die that way; and then, a fellow needs a +Man Friday for this sort of thing. As for you, I +haven’t always had the luck to be favored with +ladies’ company.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Blake. I quite appreciate +the compliment. But now, I must put on supper.”</p> + +<p>Blake followed her graceful movements with an +intentness which, in turn, drew Winthrope’s attention +to himself. The Englishman smiled in a disagreeable +manner, and resumed his work on the +bows, with the look of one mentally preoccupied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +After supper he found occasion to spend some +little time among the bamboos.</p> + +<p>When at sunset Miss Leslie withdrew into the +baobab, Winthrope somewhat officiously insisted +upon helping her set up her screen in the entrance. +As he did so, he took the opportunity to +hand her a bamboo knife, and to draw her attention +to several double-pointed bamboo stakes +which he had hidden under the litter.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she asked, troubled by his furtive +glance back at Blake.</p> + +<p>“Merely precaution, you know,” he whispered. +“The ground in there is quite soft. It will be +no trouble, I fancy, to put up the stakes, with +their points inclined towards the entrance.”</p> + +<p>“But why–”</p> + +<p>“Not so loud, Miss Genevieve! It struck +me that if any one should seek to enter in the +night, he would find these stakes deucedly unpleasant. +Be careful how you handle them. As +you see, the sharper points, which are to be +set uppermost, run off into a razor edge. Put +them up now, before it grows too dark. You +know how ninepins are set–that shape. Good-night! +You see, with these to guard the entrance, +you need not be afraid to go to sleep +at once.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she whispered, and began to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +thrust the stakes into the ground as he had +directed.</p> + +<p>He had not been mistaken. The vague doubts +and fears which she already entertained would +have kept her awake throughout the night, but +thanks to the sense of security afforded by the +sword-bayonets of her silent little sentries, the +girl was soon able to calm herself, and was fast +asleep long before Blake wakened Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Immediately after breakfast, Blake–who had +spent his watch in grinding the edges from a stone +and experimenting with split and bent twigs–put Winthrope’s keys in the fire, and began +an attempt to shape them into a knife-blade. +To heat the steel to the required temperature, +he used a bamboo blowpipe, with his lungs for +bellows.</p> + +<p>Winthrope turned away with an indifferent +bearing; but Miss Leslie found herself compelled +to stop and admire his dexterous use of his rude +tools.</p> + +<p>One after another, the keys were welded together, +end to end, in a narrow ribbon of steel. +The thinnest one, however, was not fastened to +the tip until it had been used to burn a groove in +the edge of a rib, selected from among the bones +which Miss Leslie had thrown out of the baobab. +The last key was then fastened to the others; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +the blade ground sharp, tempered, and inserted +in the groove. Finally, pieces of the key-ring +were fitted in bands around the bone, through +notches cut in the ends of the steel blade. The +result was a bone-handled, bone-backed knife, +with a narrow cutting edge of fine steel.</p> + +<p>Long before it was finished Miss Leslie had +been forced away by the requirements of her +own work. In fact, Blake did not complete his +task until late in the afternoon. At the end, he +spent more than an hour grinding the handle into +shape. When he came to show the completed +knife to Miss Leslie, he was fairly aglow with +justifiable pride.</p> + +<p>“How’s that for an Eskimo job?” he demanded. +“Bunch of keys and a bone, eh?”</p> + +<p>“You are certainly very ingenious, Mr. Blake!”</p> + +<p>“Nixy! There’s little of the inventor in my +top piece–only some hustle and a good memory. +I was up in Alaska, you know. Saw a sight of +Eskimo work.”</p> + +<p>“Still, it is very skilfully done.”</p> + +<p>“That may be–Look out for the edge! +It’d do to shave. No more bamboo splinters for +me–dull when you hit a piece of bone. I’m +ready now to skin a rhinoceros.”</p> + +<p>“If you can catch one!”</p> + +<p>“Guess we could find enough of them around +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +here, all right. But we’ll start in on some of +Win’s sheep and cattle.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do! One grows tired of eggs, and all +these sea-birds are so tough and fishy, no matter +how I cook them.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll sneak down to the pool, and make a +try with the bows this evening. I’ll give odds, +though, that we draw a blank. Win’s got the +aim, but no drive; I’ve got the drive, but no aim. +Even if I hit an antelope, I don’t think a bamboo-pointed +arrow would bother him much.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t the savages kill game without iron +weapons?”</p> + +<p>“Sure; but a lot have flint points, and a lot of +others use poison. I know that the Apaches and +some of those other Southern Indians used to fix +their arrows with rattlesnake poison.”</p> + +<p>“How horrible!”</p> + +<p>“Well, that depends on how you look at it. I +guess they thought guns more horrible when +they tackled the whites and got the daylight +let through ’em. At any rate, they swapped +arrows for rifles mighty quick, and any one +who knows Apaches will tell you it wasn’t +because they thought bullets would do less damage.”</p> + +<p>“Yet the thought of poison–”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but the thought of self-preservation! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +Sooner than starve, I’d poison every animal in +Africa–and so would you.”</p> + +<p>“I–I–You put it in such a horrible way. +One must consider others, animals as well as +people; and yet–”</p> + +<p>“Survival of the fittest. I’ve read some things, +and I’m no fool, if I do say it myself. For instance, +I’m the boss here, because I’m the fittest +of our crowd in this environment; but back in +what’s called civilized parts, where the law lets +a few shrewd fellows monopolize the means of +production, a man like your father–”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake, it is not my fault if papa’s position +in the business world–”</p> + +<p>“Nor his, either–it’s the cussed system! +No; that’s all right, Miss Jenny. I was only illustrating. +Now, I take it, both you and Win +would like to get rid of a boss like me, if you +could get rid of Africa at the same time. As it +is, though, I guess you’d rather have me for +boss, and live, than be left all by your lonesomes, +to starve.”</p> + +<p>“I–I’m sure there is no question of your +leadership, Mr. Blake. We have both tried our +best to do what you have asked of us.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> have, at least. But I know. If a ship +should come to-morrow, it’d be Blake to the +back seat. ‘Papa, give this–er–person a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +check for his services, while I chase off with +Winnie, to get my look-in on ’Is Ri-yal ’Igh-ness.’”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie flushed crimson– “I’m sure, +Mr. Blake–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t let that worry you, Miss Jenny. +It don’t me. I couldn’t be sore with you if I +tried. Just the same, I know what it’ll be like. +I’ve rubbed elbows enough with snobs and big +bugs to know what kind of consideration they +give one of the mahsses–unless one of the +mahsses has the drop on them. Hello, Win! +What’s kept you so late?”</p> + +<p>“None of your business!” snapped Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie glanced at him, even more puzzled +and startled by this outbreak than she had been +by Blake’s strange talk. But if Blake was +angered, he did not show it.</p> + +<p>“Say, Win,” he remarked gravely, “I was +going to take you down to the pool after supper, +on a try with the bows. But I guess you’d +better stay close by the fire.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it is time you gave a little consideration +to those who deserve it,” rejoined Winthrope, +with a peevishness of tone and manner which +surprised Miss Leslie. “I tell you, I’m tired +of being treated like a dog.”</p> + +<p>“All right, all right, old man. Just draw up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +your chair, and get all the hot broth aboard you +can stow,” answered Blake, soothingly.</p> + +<p>Winthrope sat down; but throughout the meal, +he continued to complain over trifles with the +peevishness of a spoiled child, until Miss Leslie +blushed for him. Greatly to her astonishment, +Blake endured the nagging without a sign of +irritation, and in the end took his bow and +arrows and went off down the cleft, with no more +than a quiet reminder to Winthrope that he should +keep near the fire.</p> + +<p>When, shortly after dark, the engineer came +groping his way back up the gorge, he was by +no means so calm. Out of six shots, he had hit +one antelope in the neck and another in the +haunch; yet both animals had made off all the +swifter for their wounds.</p> + +<p>The noise of his approach awakened Winthrope, +who turned over, and began to complain in a +whining falsetto. Miss Leslie, who was peering +out through the bars of her screen, looked to see +Blake kick the prostrate man. His frown showed +only too clearly that he was in a savage temper. +To her astonishment, he spoke in a soothing tone +until Winthrope again fell asleep. Then he +quietly set about erecting a canopy of bamboos +over the sleeper.</p> + +<p>Just why he should build this was a puzzle to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +the girl. But when she caught a glimpse of +Blake’s altered expression, she drew a deep +breath of relief, and picked her way around the +edge of her bamboo stakes, to lie down without a +trace of the fear which had been haunting her.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE MARK OF THE BEAST</span></h2> + +<p>Morning found Winthrope more irritable +and peevish than ever. Though +he had not been called on watch by +Blake until long after midnight, he had soon +fallen asleep at his post and permitted the fire to +die out. Shortly before dawn, Blake was roused +by a pack of jackals, snarling and quarrelling +over the half-dried seafowl. To charge upon the +thieves and put them to flight with a few blows +of his club took but a moment. Yet daylight +showed more than half the drying frames empty.</p> + +<p>Blake was staring glumly at them, with his +broad back to Winthrope, when Miss Leslie +appeared. The sudden cessation of Winthrope’s +complaints brought his companion around on the +instant. The girl stood before him, clad from +neck to foot in her leopard-skin dress.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be–dashed!” he exclaimed, and +he stood staring at her open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>“I fear it will be warm. Do you think it becoming?” +she asked, flushing, and turning as +though to show the fit of the costume.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span>“Do I?” he echoed. “Miss Jenny, you’re a +peach!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she said. “And here is the +skirt. I have ripped it open. You see, it will +make a fine flag.”</p> + +<p>“If it’s put up. Seems a pity, though, to do +that, when we’re getting on so fine. What do +you say to leaving it down, and starting a little +colony of our own?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie raised the skirt in her outstretched +hands. Behind it her face became white as the +cloth.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Blake soberly, though his +eyes were twinkling.</p> + +<p>“You forget the fever,” she retorted mockingly, +and Blake failed to catch the quaver beneath +the light remark.</p> + +<p>“Say, you’ve got me there!” he admitted. +“Just pass over your flag, and scrape up some +grub. I’ll be breaking out a big bamboo. There +are plenty of holes and loose stones on the cliff. +We’ll have the signal up before noon.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie murmured her thanks, and immediately +set about the preparation of breakfast.</p> + +<p>When Blake had the bamboo ready, with one +edge of the broad piece of white duck lashed to it +with catgut as high up as the tapering staff would +bear, he called upon Winthrope to accompany him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span>“You can go, too, Miss Jenny,” he added. +“You haven’t been on the cliff yet, and you +ought to celebrate the occasion.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you,” replied the girl. “I’m still +unprepared to climb precipices, even though my +costume is that of a savage.”</p> + +<p>“Savage? Great Scott! that leopard dress +would win out against any set of Russian furs +a-going, and I’ve heard they’re considered all +kinds of dog. Come on. I can swing you into +the branches, and it’s easy from there up.”</p> + +<p>“You will excuse me, please.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can go alone,” interposed Winthrope. +“I am indisposed this morning, and, +what is more, I have had enough of your +dictation.”</p> + +<p>“You have, have you?” growled Blake, his +patience suddenly come to an end. “Well, let +me tell you, Miss Leslie is a lady, and if she +don’t want to go, that settles it. But as for you, +you’ll go, if I have to kick you every step.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope cringed back, and broke into a +childish whine. “Don’t–don’t do it, Blake–Oh, +I say, Miss Genevieve, how can you stand +by and see him abuse me like this?”</p> + +<p>Blake was grinning as he turned to Miss Leslie. +Her face was flushed and downcast with humiliation +for her friend. It seemed incredible that a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +man of his breeding should betray such weakness. +A quick change came over Blake’s face.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he muttered, “I guess I’m +enough of a sport to know something about fair +play. Win’s coming down with the fever, and’s +no more to blame for doing the baby act than +he’ll be when he gets the delirium, and gabbles.”</p> + +<p>“I will thank you to attend to your own +affairs,” said Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“You’re entirely welcome. It’s what I’m +doing.– Do you understand, Miss Jenny?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, yes; and I wish to thank you. I +have noticed how patient you have been–”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, Miss Leslie,” rasped Winthrope. +“Can you not see that for a fellow of this class +to talk of fair play and patience is the height of +impertinence? In England, now, such insufferable +impudence–”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do,” broke in Blake. “It’s time for +us to trot along.”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Blake, if he is ill–”</p> + +<p>“Just the reason why he should keep moving. +No more of your gab, Win! Give your jaw a +lay-off, and try wiggling your legs instead.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope turned away, crimson with indignation. +Blake paused only for a parting word with +Miss Leslie. “If you want something to do, Miss +Jenny, try making yourself a pair of moccasins +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +out of the scraps of skin. You can’t stay in this +gully all the time. You’ve got to tramp around +some, and those slippers must be about done for.”</p> + +<p>“They are still serviceable. Yet if you +think–”</p> + +<p>“You’ll need good tough moccasins soon +enough. Singe off the hair, and make soles of +the thicker pieces. If you do a fair job, maybe +I’ll employ you as my cobbler, soon as I get the +hide off one of those skittish antelope.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie nodded and smiled in response to +his jesting tone. But as he swung away after +Winthrope, she stood for some time wondering at +herself. A few days since she knew she would +have taken Blake’s remark as an insult. Now +she was puzzled to find herself rather pleased +that he should so note her ability to be of +service.</p> + +<p>When she roused herself, and began singeing +the hair from the odds and ends of leopard skin, +she discovered a new sensation to add to her list +of unpleasant experiences. But she did not pause +until the last patch of hair crisped close to the +half-cured surface of the hide. Fetching the penknife +and her thorn and catgut from the baobab, +she gathered the pieces of skin together, and +walked along the cleft to the ladder-tree. There +had been time enough for Blake and Winthrope +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +to set up the signal, and she was curious to see +how it looked.</p> + +<p>She paused at the foot of the tree, and gazed up +to where the withered crown lay crushed against +the edge of the cliff. The height of the rocky +wall made her hesitate; yet the men, in passing +up and down, had so cleared away the twigs and +leaves and broken the branches on the upper side +of the trunk, that it offered a means of ascent far +from difficult even for a young lady.</p> + +<p>The one difficulty was to reach the lower +branches. She could hardly touch them with her +finger-tips. But her barbaric costume must have +inspired her. She listened for a moment, and +hearing no sound to indicate the return of the +men, clasped the upper side of the trunk with her +hands and knees, and made an energetic attempt +to climb. The posture was far from dignified, +but the girl’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as +she found herself slowly mounting.</p> + +<p>When, flushed and breathless, she gained a +foothold among the branches, she looked down at +the ground, and permitted herself a merry little +giggle such as she had not indulged in since leaving +boarding-school. She had actually climbed +a tree! She would show Mr. Blake that she was +not so helpless as he fancied.</p> + +<p>At the thought, she clambered on up, finding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +that the branches made convenient steps. She +did not look back, and the screen of tree-tops +beneath saved her from any sense of giddiness. +As her head came above the level of the cliff, she +peered through the foliage, and saw the signal-flag +far over near the end of the headland. The +big piece of white duck stood out bravely against +the blue sky, all the more conspicuous for the +flocks of frightened seafowl which wheeled above +and around it.</p> + +<p>Surprised that she did not see the men, Miss +Leslie started to draw herself up over the cliff +edge. She heard Winthrope’s voice a few yards +away on her left. A sudden realization that the +Englishman might consider her exploit ill-bred +caused her to sink back out of sight.</p> + +<p>She was hesitating whether to descend or to +climb on up, when Winthrope’s peevish whine +was cut short by a loud and angry retort from +Blake. Every word came to the girl’s ears with +the force of a blow.</p> + +<p>“You do, do you? Well, I’d like to know +where in hell you come in. She’s not your +sister, nor your mother, nor your aunt, and if +she’s your sweetheart, you’ve both been damned +close-mouthed over it.”</p> + +<p>There was an irritable, rasping murmur from +Winthrope, and again came Blake’s loud retort.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span>“Look here, young man, don’t you forget you +called me a cad once before. I can stand a good +deal from a sick man; but I’ll give it to you +straight, you’d better cut that out. Call me a +brute or a savage, if that’ll let off your steam; +but, understand, I’m none of your English +kinds.”</p> + +<p>Again Winthrope spoke, this time in a fretful +whine.</p> + +<p>Blake replied with less anger: “That’s so; +and I’m going to show you that I’m the real +thing when it comes to being a sport. Give you +my word, I’ll make no move till you’re through +the fever and on your legs again. What I’ll do +then depends on my own sweet will, and don’t +you forget it. I’m not after her fortune. It’s +the lady herself that takes my fancy. Remember +what I said to you when you called me a cad +the other time. You had your turn aboard ship. +Now I can do as I please; and that’s what I’m +going to do, if I have to kick you over the cliff +end first, to shut off your pesky interference.”</p> + +<p>The girl crouched back into the withered +foliage, dazed with terror. Again she heard Blake +speak. He had dropped into a bitter sneer.</p> + +<p>“No chance? It’s no nerve, you mean. You +could brain me, easy enough, any night–just +walk up with a club when I’m asleep. Trouble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +is, you’re like most other under dogs–’fraid +that if you licked your boss, there’d be no soup +bones. So I guess I’m slated to stay boss of this +colony–grand Poo Bah and Mikado, all in one. +Understand? You mind your own business, and +don’t go to interfering with me any more! . . . . +Now, if you’ve stared enough at the lady’s +skirt–”</p> + +<p>The threat of discovery stung the girl to instant +action. With almost frantic haste, she scrambled +down to the lower branches, and sprang to the +ground. She had never ventured such a leap +even in childhood. She struck lightly but without +proper balance, and pitched over sideways. +Her hands chanced to alight upon the remnants +of leopard skin. Great as was her fear, she +stopped to gather all together in the edge of +her skirt before darting up the cleft.</p> + +<p>At the baobab she turned and gazed back along +the cliff edge. Before she had time to draw a +second breath, she caught a glimpse of Blake’s +palm-leaf hat, near the crown of the ladder tree.</p> + +<p>“O-o-h!–he didn’t see me!” she murmured. +Her frantic strength vanished, and a deathly +sickness came upon her. She felt herself going, +and sought to kneel to ease the fall.</p> + +<p>She was roused from the swoon by Blake’s +resonant shout: “Hey, Miss Jenny! where are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +you? We’ve got your laundry on the pole in +fine shape!”</p> + +<p>The girl’s flaccid limbs grew tense, and her +body quivered with a shudder of dread and loathing. +Yet she set her little white teeth, and forced +herself to rise and go out to face the men. Both +met her look with a blank stare of consternation.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Miss Genevieve?” cried Winthrope. +“You’re white as chalk!”</p> + +<p>“It’s the fever!” growled Blake. “She’s in +the cold stage. Get a pot on. We’ll–”</p> + +<p>“No, no; it’s not that! It’s only–I’ve +been frightened!”</p> + +<p>“Frightened?”</p> + +<p>“By a–a dreadful beast!”</p> + +<p>“Beast!” repeated Blake, and his pale eyes +flashed as he sprang across to where his bow and +arrows and his club leaned against the baobab. +“I’ll have no beasts nosing around my dooryard! +Must be that skulking lion I heard last +night. I’ll show him!” He caught up his +weapons and stalked off down the cleft.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” exclaimed Winthrope; “the man +really must be mad. Call him back, Miss Genevieve. +If anything should happen to him–”</p> + +<p>“If only there might!” gasped the girl.</p> + +<p>“Why, what do you mean?”</p> + +<p>She burst into a hysterical laugh. “Oh! oh! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +it’s such a joke–such a joke! At least he’s +not a hyena–oh, no; a brave beast! Hear +him shout! And he actually thinks it’s a lion! +But it isn’t–it’s himself! Oh, dear! oh, dear! +what shall I do?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Genevieve, what do you mean? Be +calm, pray, be calm!”</p> + +<p>“Calm!–when I heard what he said? Yes; +I heard every word! In the top of the tree–”</p> + +<p>“In the tree? Heavens! Miss–er–Miss +Genevieve!” stammered Winthrope, his face +paling. “Did you–did you hear all?”</p> + +<p>“Everything–everything he said! What +shall I do? I am so frightened! What shall +I do?”</p> + +<p>“Everything <i>he</i> said?” echoed Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“You spoke too low for me to hear; but I’m +sure you faced him like a gentleman–I must +believe it of you–”</p> + +<p>Winthrope drew in a deep breath. “Ah, yes; +I did, Miss Genevieve–I assure you. The beast! +Yet you see the plight I am in. It is a nasty +muddle–indeed it is! But what can I do? +He is strong as a gorilla. Really, there is only +one way–no doubt you heard him taunt me +over it. I assure you I should not be afraid–but it would be so horrid–so cold-blooded. As +a gentleman, you know–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span>“No; it is not that!” broke in the girl. “He +is right. Neither of us has the courage–even +when he is asleep.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve, this beast instinct +to kill–”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but think of him. If he is a beast, he +is at least a brave one. While we–we haven’t +the courage of rabbits. I thought you called +yourself an English gentleman. Are you going +to stand by, and not lift a finger?”</p> + +<p>“Really, now, Miss Genevieve, to murder a +man–”</p> + +<p>“Self-defence is not a crime–self-preservation. +If you have a spark of manhood–”</p> + +<p>“My dear–”</p> + +<p>“For Heaven’s sake, if you can’t do anything, +at least keep still! Oh, I’m sure I shall go mad! +If only I had been drowned!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes, to be sure. But really now, what +you ask is a good deal for a man to risk. The +fellow might wake up and murder me! Should +I take the risk, might I–er–expect some manifestation +of your gratitude, Miss Genevieve?”</p> + +<p>“Of course! of course! I should always–”</p> + +<p>“I–ah–refer to the–the–bestowal of +your hand.”</p> + +<p>“My hand? I– Would you bargain for +my esteem? I thought you a gentleman!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span>“To be sure–to be sure! Who says I am +not? But all is fair in love and war, you know. +Your choice is quite free. I take it, you will not +consider his–er–proposals. But if you do +not wish my aid, you have another way of +escape–that is–at least other women have +done it.”</p> + +<p>The girl gazed at him, her eyes dilating with +horror as she realized his meaning.</p> + +<p>“No, no; not that!” she gasped. “I want to +live–I’ve a right to live! Why, I’m only just +twenty-two–I–”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” cautioned Winthrope. “He’s coming +back. Be calm! There will be time until I +get over this vile malaria. It may be that he +himself will have the fever.”</p> + +<p>“He will not have the fever,” replied the girl, +in a hopeless tone, and she leaned back listlessly +against the baobab, as Blake swung himself up, +frowning and sullen, and flung his weapons from +him.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” he grumbled, “I told you that brute +was a sneak. I’ve chased clean down to the +pool and into the open, and not a smell of him. +Must have hiked off into the tall grass the minute +he heard me.”</p> + +<p>“If only he had gone off for good!” murmured +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>“Maybe he has; though you never can count +on a sneak. Even you might be able to shoo +him off next time; but, like as not, he’d come +along when we were all out calling, and clean +out our commissary. Guess I’ll set to and run +up a barricade down there where the gully is +narrowest. There’re shoals of dead thorn-brush +to the right of the pool.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; I fancy the vultures will be so +vexed when they find your hedge in the way,” +remarked Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“My! how smart we’re getting!” retorted +Blake. “Don’t worry, though. We’ll stow the +stuff in Miss Jenny’s boudoir, and I guess the +birdies’ll be polite enough to keep out.”</p> + +<p>“I must say, Blake, I do not see why you +should wish to drag us away from here.”</p> + +<p>“There’re lots of things you don’t see, +Win, me b’y–jokes, for instance. But what +could you expect?–you’re English. Now, +don’t get mad. Worst thing in the world for +malaria.”</p> + +<p>“One would fancy you could see that I am not +angry. I’ve a splitting headache, and my back +hurts. I am ill.”</p> + +<p>Blake looked him over critically, and nodded. +“That’s no lie, old man. You’re entitled to a +hospital check all right. Miss Jenny, we’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +appoint you chief nurse. Make him comfortable +as you can, and give him hot broth whenever he’ll +take it. You can do your sewing on the side. +Whenever you need help, call on me. I’m going +to begin that barricade.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>FEVER AND FIRE AND FEAR</span></h2> + +<p>By nightfall Winthrope was tossing and +groaning on the bed of leaves which Miss +Leslie had heaped beneath his canopy. +Though not delirious, his high temperature, coupled +with the pains which racked every nerve and +bone in his body, rendered him light-headed. He +would catch himself up in the midst of some +rambling nonsense to inquire anxiously whether +he had said anything silly or strange. On being +reassured upon this, he would relax again, and, as +likely as not, break into a babyish wail over his +aches and pains.</p> + +<p>Blake shook his head when he learned that +the attack had not been preceded by a chill.</p> + +<p>“Guess he’s in for a hot time,” he said. +“There is more’n one kind of malarial fever. +Some are a whole lot like typhus.”</p> + +<p>“Typhus? What is that?” asked Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Sort of rapid fire, double action typhoid. Not +that I think Win’s got it–only malaria. What +gets me is that we’ve only been here these few +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +days, and yet it looks like he’s got the continuous, +no-chill kind.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think he will be very ill?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess he’ll think so. It ought to run +out in a week or ten days, though. We’ve had +good water, and it usually takes time for malaria +to soak in deep. Now, don’t worry, Miss Jenny. +It’ll do him no good, and you a lot of harm. +Take things easy as you can, for you’ve got to +keep up your strength. If you don’t, you’ll be +down yourself before Win is up.”</p> + +<p>“Ill while he is helpless and unable–? Oh, +no; that cannot be! I must not give way to the +fever until–”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry. You’ll likely stave it off for +a couple of weeks or so. You’re lively yet, and +that’s a good sign. I knew Win was in for it +when he began to grouch and loaf and do the +baby act. I haven’t much use for dudes in general, +and English dudes in particular; but I’ll +admit that, while Win’s soft enough in spots, +he’s not all mush and milk.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Blake.”</p> + +<p>“You’re welcome. I couldn’t say less, seeing +that Win can’t speak for himself. Now you +tumble in and get a good sleep. I’ll go on as +night nurse, and work at the barricade same time. +You’re not going to do any night-nursing. I can +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +gather the thorn-brush in the afternoons, and pile +it up at night.”</p> + +<p>In the morning Miss Leslie found that Blake +had built a substantial canopy over the invalid, +in place of the first ramshackle structure.</p> + +<p>“It’s best for him to be out in the air,” he explained; +“so I fixed this up to keep off the dew. +But whenever it rains, we’ll have to tote him +inside.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; to be sure. How is he?” murmured +the girl.</p> + +<p>“He’s about the same this morning. But he +got a little sleep. Keep him dosed with all the +hot broth he’ll take. And say, roust me out at +noon. I’ve had my breakfast. Now I’ll have a +snooze. So long!”</p> + +<p>He nodded, and crawled under the shade of +the nearest bush, too drowsy to observe her look +of dismay.</p> + +<p>At noon, having learned that Winthrope’s condition +showed little change, Blake ate a hearty +meal, and at once set off down the cleft. He did +not reappear until nightfall; though at intervals +Miss Leslie had heard his step as he came up the +ravine with his loads of thorn-brush.</p> + +<p>This course of action became the routine for the +following ten days. It was broken only by three +incidents, all relating to the important matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +of food supply. Winthrope had soon tired of +broth, and showed such an insatiable craving for +cocoanut milk that the stock on hand had become +exhausted within the week.</p> + +<p>The day after, Blake took the rope ladder, as +he called the tangle of knotted creepers, and went +off towards the north end of the cleft. When he +returned, a little before dark, the lower part of +his trousers was torn to shreds, and the palms of +his hands were blistered and raw; but he carried +a heavy load of cocoanuts. After a vain attempt +to climb the giant palms on the far side of the +river, he had found another grove near at hand, +in the little plain, and had succeeded in reaching +the tops of two of the smaller palms.</p> + +<p>Under his directions, Miss Leslie clarified a +bowl of bird fat–goose-grease, Blake called it,–and dressed his hands. Yet even with the +bandages which she made of soft inner bark and +the handkerchiefs, he was unable to handle the +thorn-brush the following day. Unfortunately +for him, he was not content to sit idle. During +the night he had cut a bamboo fishing-pole and +lengthened Miss Leslie’s line of plaited cocoanut-fibre +with a long catgut leader. In the afternoon +he completed his outfit with a hairpin hook and a +piece of half-dried meat.</p> + +<p>He was back an hour earlier than usual, and he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +brought with him a dozen or more fair-sized fish. +His mouth was watering over the prospective +feast, and Miss Leslie showed herself hardly less +eager for a change from their monotonous diet. +As the fish were already dressed, she raked up +the coals and quickly contrived a grill of green +bamboos.</p> + +<p>When the odor of the broiling fish spread about +in the still air, even Winthrope sniffed and turned +over, while Blake watched the crisping delicacies +with a ravenous look. Unable to restrain himself, +he caught up the smallest fish, half cooked, +and bolted it down with such haste that he burnt +his mouth. He ran over to the spring for a +drink, and Winthrope cackled derisively.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie was too absorbed in her cooking to +observe the result of Blake’s greediness. She +had turned the fish for the last time, and was +about to lift them off the fire, when Blake came +running back, and sent grill and all flying with a +violent kick.</p> + +<p>“Salt!” he gasped–“where’s the salt? I’m +poisoned!”</p> + +<p>“Poisoned?”</p> + +<p>“Poison fish! Don’t eat! God!–Where’s +the salt?”</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him. His agony was so +great that beads of sweat were rolling down his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +face. He writhed, and stretched out a quivering +hand–“Salt, quick!–warm water–salt!”</p> + +<p>“But there’s none left! You remember, +yesterday–”</p> + +<p>“God!” groaned Blake, and for a moment he +sank down, overcome by a racking convulsion. +Then his jaw closed like a bulldog’s, and gritting +his teeth with the effort, he staggered up and +rushed off down the cleft.</p> + +<p>“Stop! stop, Mr. Blake! Where are you +going?” screamed the girl.</p> + +<p>She started to run after him, but was halted by +an outburst of delirious laughter. Winthrope +was sitting upright and waving his fever-blotched +hands–“Hi, hi! look at ’im run! ’E’s got +w’at’ll do for ’im! Run, you swine; you–”</p> + +<p>There followed a torrent of cockney abuse so +foul that Miss Leslie blushed scarlet with shame +as she sought to quiet him. But the excitement +had so heightened his fever that he was in a +raving delirium. It was close upon midnight +before his temperature fell, and he sank into a +death-like torpor. In her ignorance, she supposed +that he had fallen asleep.</p> + +<p>Her relief was short-lived, for soon she remembered +Blake. She could see him lying beside the +pool or out on the bare plain, his resolute eyes +cold and glassy, his powerful body contorted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +in the death agony. The vision filled her with +dismay. With all his coarseness, the man had +showed himself so resourceful, so indomitable, +that when she sought to dwell upon her reasons +to fear him, she found herself admiring his virile +manliness. He might be a brute, but he did not +belong among the jackals and hyenas. Indeed, as +she called to mind his strong face and frank, blunt +speech she all but disbelieved what her own ears +had heard.</p> + +<p>And anyway, without his aid, what should she +do? Winthrope had already become as weak as +a child. The emaciation of his jaundiced features +was a mockery of their former plumpness. Blake +had said that the fever might run on for another +week, and that even if Winthrope recovered, he +would probably be helpless for several days +besides.</p> + +<p>What was no less serious, though she had +concealed the fact from Blake, she herself had +been troubled the past week with the depression +and lassitude which had preceded Winthrope’s +attack. If Blake was dead, and she should fall +ill before Winthrope recovered, they would both +die from lack of care. And if they did not die +of the fever, what of their future, here on this +desolate savage coast!</p> + +<p>But the very keenness of her mental anguish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +so exhausted and numbed the girl’s brain that +she at last fell into a heavy sleep. The fire +burned low, and shadowy forms began to creep +from behind the bamboos and the trees and rocks +down the gorge. There was no sound; but +greedy, wolfish eyes gleamed in the starlight.</p> + +<p>Only the day before Blake had told Miss +Leslie to store the last rack of cured meat inside +the baobab. The two sleepers lay between +the fire and the entrance to the hollow. Slowly +the embers of the fire died away into gray ashes, +and slowly the night prowlers drew nearer. The +boldest of the pack crept close to Miss Leslie, +and, with teeth bared and back bristling, sniffed +at the edge of her skirt. Whether because of her +heavy breathing or the odor of the leopard skin, +the beast drew away, with an uneasy whine.</p> + +<p>There was a pause; then, backed by three +others, the leader approached Winthrope. He +was still lying in the death-like torpor, and he +lacked the protection which, in all likelihood, the +leopard skin had given Miss Leslie. The cowardly +brutes took him for dead or dying. They +sniffed at him from head to foot, and then, with +a ferocious outburst of snarls and yells, flung +themselves upon him.</p> + +<p>Had it not chanced that Winthrope was lying +upon his side, with one arm thrown up, he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +have been fatally wounded by the first slashing +bites of his assailants. The two which sought +to tear him were baffled by the thick folds of +Blake’s coat, while their leader’s slash at the +victim’s throat was barred by the upraised arm. +With a savage snap, the beast’s jaws closed +on the arm, biting through to the bone. At the +same instant the fourth jackal tore ravenously +at one of the outstretched legs.</p> + +<p>With a shriek of agony, Winthrope started +up from his torpor, and struck out frantically +in a fury of pain and terror. Startled by the +violence of this unexpected resistance, the jackals +leaped back–only to spring in again as +the remainder of the pack made a rush to forestall +them.</p> + +<p>Winthrope was staggering to his feet, when +the foremost brute leaped upon him. He fell +heavily against one of the main supports of his +bamboo canopy, and the entire structure came +down with a crash. Two of the jackals, caught +beneath the roof, howled with fear as they sought +to free themselves. The others, with brute dread +of an unknown danger, drew away, snarling and +gnashing their teeth.</p> + +<p>Wakened by the first ferocious yelps of Winthrope’s +assailants, Miss Leslie had started up and +stared about in the darkness. On all sides she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +could see pairs of fiery eyes and dim forms like +the phantom creatures of a nightmare. Winthrope’s +shriek, instead of spurring her to action, +only confused her the more and benumbed her +faculties. She thought it was his death cry, and +stood trembling, transfixed with horror.</p> + +<p>Then came the fall of the canopy. His cries +as he sought to throw it off showed that he was +still alive. In a flash her bewilderment vanished. +The stagnant blood surged again through her +arteries in a fiery, stimulating torrent. With a +cry, to which primeval instinct lent a menacing +note, she groped her way to the fallen canopy, +and stooped to lift up one side.</p> + +<p>“Quick!–into the tree!” she called.</p> + +<p>Still frantic with terror, Winthrope struggled +to his feet. She thrust him towards the baobab, +and followed, dragging the mass of interwoven +bamboos. Emboldened by the retreat of their +quarry, the snarling pack instantly began to close +in. Fortunately they were too cowardly to rush +at once, and fear spurred their intended victims +to the utmost haste. Groping and stumbling, the +two felt their way to the baobab, and Miss Leslie +pushed Winthrope headlong through the entrance. +As he fell, she turned to face the pack.</p> + +<p>The foremost beasts were at the rear edge of +the bamboo framework, their eyes close to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +ground. Instinct told her that they were crouching +to leap. With desperate strength she caught +up the canopy before her like a great shield, and +drew it in after her until the ends of the cross-bars +were wedged fast against the sides of the opening. +Though it seemed so firm, she clung to it with a +convulsive grasp as she felt the pack leaders fling +themselves against the outer side.</p> + +<p>But Blake had lashed the bamboos securely +together, and none of the beasts was heavy +enough to snap the supple bars. Finding that +they could not break down the barrier, they +began to scratch and tear at the thatch which +covered the frame. Soon a pair of lean jaws +thrust in and snapped at the girl’s skirt. She +sprang back, with a cry: “Help! Quick, Mr. +Winthrope! They’re breaking through!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope made no response. She stooped, +and found him lying inert where he had fallen. +She had only herself to depend upon. A screen +of sharp sticks which she had made for the entrance +was leaning against the inner wall, within +easy reach. To grasp it and thrust it against the +other framework was the work of an instant.</p> + +<p>Still she trembled, for the eager beasts had +ripped the thatch from the canopy, and their inthrust +jaws made short work of the few leaves +on her screen. Unaware that even a lion or a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +tiger is quickly discouraged by the knife-like +splinters of broken bamboo, she expected every +moment that the jackals would bite their way +through her frail barrier.</p> + +<p>She remembered the stakes given her by Winthrope, +hidden under the leaves and grass of her +bed. She groped her way across the hollow, +and uncovered one of the stakes. In her haste +she cut her hand on its razor-like edge. All unheeding, +she sprang back towards the entrance. +She was none too soon. One of the smaller +jackals had forced its head and one leg between +the bars, and was struggling to enlarge the +opening.</p> + +<p>Fearful that the whole pack was about to burst +in upon her, the girl grasped the bamboo stake in +both hands, and began stabbing and lunging at the +beast with all her strength. The jackal squirmed +and snarled and snapped viciously. But the girl +was now frantic. She pressed nearer, and though +the white teeth grazed her wrist, she drove home +a thrust that changed the beast’s snarls into a howl +of pain. Before she could strike again, it had +struggled back out of the hole, beyond reach.</p> + +<p>Tense and panting with excitement, she leaned +forward, ready to stab at the next beast. None +appeared, and presently she became aware that the +pack had been daunted by the experience of their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +unlucky fellow. Their snarls and yells had subsided +to whines, which seemed to be coming from a +greater distance. Still she waited, with the bamboo +stake upraised ready to strike, every nerve +and muscle of her body tense with the strain.</p> + +<p>So great was the stress of her fear and excitement +that she had not heeded the first gray +lessening of the night. But now the glorious +tropical dawn came streaming out of the east +in all its red effulgence. Above and through the +bamboo barrier glowed a light such as might have +come from a great fire on the cliff top. Still +tense and immovable, the girl stared out up the +cleft. There was not a jackal in sight. She +leaned forward and peered around, unable to believe +such good fortune. But the night prowlers +had slunk off in the first gray dawn.</p> + +<p>The girl drew in a deep, shuddering sigh, and +sank back. Her hand struck against Winthrope’s +foot. She turned about quickly and looked at +him. He was lying upon his face. She hastened +to turn him upon his side, and to feel his forehead. +It was cool and moist. He was fast asleep +and drenched with sweat. The great shock of his +pain and fear and excitement had broken his fever.</p> + +<p>With the relief and joy of this discovery, the +girl completely relaxed. Not observing Winthrope’s +wounds, which had bled little, she sought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +to force a way out through the entrance. It was +by no means an easy task to free the wedged +framework, and when, after much pulling and +pushing, she at last tore the mass loose, she +found herself perspiring no less freely than +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>She was far too preoccupied, however, to consider +what this might mean. Her first thought +was of the fire. She ran to her rude stone fireplace +and raked over the ashes. They were still +warm, but there was not a live ember among +them. Yet she realized that Winthrope must +have hot food when he wakened, and Blake had +carried with him the magnifying glass. For a +little she stood hesitating. But the defeat of the +jackals had given her courage and resolution such +as she had never before known. She returned +into the cave, and chose the sharpest of her +stakes. Having made certain that Winthrope was +still asleep, she set off boldly down the cleft.</p> + +<p>At the first turn she came upon Blake’s thorn +barricade. It stretched across the narrowest part +of the cleft in an impenetrable wall, twelve feet +high. Only in the centre was a gap, which could +have been filled by Blake in less than two hours’ +work. The girl’s eyes brightened. She herself +could gather the thorn-brush and fill the gap before +night. They no longer need fear the jackals +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +or even the larger beasts of prey. None the less, +they must have fire.</p> + +<p>Spurred on by the thought, she was about to +spring through the barricade when she heard the +tread of feet on the path beyond. She crouched +down, and peered through the tangle of brush in +the edge of the gap. Less than ten paces away +Blake was plodding heavily up the trail. She +stepped out before him.</p> + +<p>“You–you! Are you alive?” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“’Live? You bet your boots!” came back the +grim response. “You bet I’m alive–though +I had to go Jonah one better to do it. The whale +heaved him up; I heaved up the whale–and it +took about a barrel of sea-water to do it.”</p> + +<p>“Sea-water?”</p> + +<p>“Sure . . . . I tumbled over twice on the way. +But I made the beach. Lord! how I pumped in +the briny deep! Guess I won’t go into details–but +if you think you know anything about seasickness– +<i>Whew!</i> Lucky for yours truly, the +tide was just starting out, and the wind off shore. +I’d fallen in the water, and the Jonah business +laid me out cold. Didn’t know anything until +the tide came up again and soused me.”</p> + +<p>“I am very glad you’re not dead. But how +you must have suffered! You are still white, and +your face is all creased.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span>Blake attempted a careless laugh. “Don’t worry +about me. I’m here, O. K., all that’s left,–a +little wobbly on my pins, but hungry as a shark. +But say, what’s up with you? You’re sweating +like a– Good thing, though. It’ll stave off +your spell of fever a while. How ’d you happen +to be coming down here so early?”</p> + +<p>“I was starting to find you.”</p> + +<p>“Me!”</p> + +<p>“Not you–that is, I thought you were dead. +I was going to make certain, and to–to get the +burning-glass.”</p> + +<p>“Um-m. I see. Let the fire go out, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Do not blame me, Mr. Blake! I was so ill +and worn out, and I’ve paid for it twice over, +really I have. Didn’t those awful beasts attack +you?”</p> + +<p>“Beasts? How’s that?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you must have heard them! The +horrid things tried to kill us!” she cried, and she +poured out a half incoherent account of all that +had happened since he left.</p> + +<p>Blake listened intently, his jaw thrust out, his +eyes glowing upon her with a look which she had +never before seen in any man’s eyes. But his first +comment had nothing to do with her conduct.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?–sorry Win got rousted out of +his nice little snooze– Snooze! Why, don’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +you know, we’d been all alone in our glory by +to-night if it hadn’t been for those brutes. He +was in the stupor, and that would have been the +end of him if the beasts hadn’t stirred him up +so lively. I’ve heard of such a thing before, but +I always thought it was a fake. Here you are +sweating, too.”</p> + +<p>“I feel much better than yesterday. I did not +tell you, but I have felt ill for nearly a week.”</p> + +<p>“’Fraid to tell, eh?–and you were so scared +over the beasts– Scared! By Jiminy, you’ve +got grit, little woman! There’s two kinds of +scaredness; you’ve got the Stonewall Jackson +kind. If anybody asks you, just refer them to +Tommy Blake.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Blake. But should we not +hasten back now to prepare something for Mr. +Winthrope?”</p> + +<p>“Ditto for yours truly. I’m like that sepulchre +you read about–white outside, and within +nothing but bare bones and emptiness.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><span class='h2fs'>WITH BOW AND CLUB</span></h2> + +<p>The fire was soon re-lit, and a pot of meat +set on to stew. It had ample time to +simmer. Winthrope was wrapped in a +life-giving sleep, out of which he did not waken +until evening, while Blake, unable to wait for +the pot to boil, and nauseated by the fishy odor +of the dried seafowl, hunted out the jerked leopard +meat, and having devoured enough to satisfy +a native, fell asleep under a bush.</p> + +<p>The sun was half down the sky when he sat +up and looked around, wide awake the moment +he opened his eyes. Miss Leslie was quietly +placing an armful of sticks on the fuel heap +beside the baobab.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Miss Jenny! Hard at it, I see,” he +called cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” she cautioned. “Mr. Winthrope is +still asleep.”</p> + +<p>“Good thing for him. He’ll need all of that +he can get.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think–?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span>“Well, between you and me, I don’t believe +Win was built for the tropics. This fever of his, +coming on so soon, wouldn’t have hit nine men +in ten half so hard. He’s bound to have another +spell in a month or two, and–”</p> + +<p>“But cannot we possibly get away from here +before then? Is there no way? Surely, you +are so resourceful–”</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing, Miss Jenny! Give me tools, +and I’d engage to turn out a seagoing boat. But +as it is, the only thing I could do would be to +fire-burn a log. That would take two or three +months, and in the end we’d have a lop-sided +canoe that’d live about half a second in one of +these tropic squalls.”</p> + +<p>“Do not the natives sail in canoes?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe they do–and they make fire by +rubbing sticks. We don’t.”</p> + +<p>“But what can we do?”</p> + +<p>“Take our medicine, and wait for a ship to +show up.”</p> + +<p>“But we have no medicine.”</p> + +<p>“Have no– Say, Miss Jenny, you really +ought to have stayed home from boarding-school +and England long enough to learn your own +language. I meant, we’ve got to take what’s +coming to us, without laying down or grouching. +Both are the worst thing out for malaria.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span>“You mean that we must resign ourselves to +this intolerable situation–that we must calmly +sit here and wait until the fever–”</p> + +<p>“No; I’ll take care we don’t sit around very +much. We’ll go on the hike, soon as Win can +wobble. Which reminds me, I’ve got a little +hike on hand now. I’m going to close up that +barricade before dark. Me for a quiet night!”</p> + +<p>Without waiting for a reply, he took his weapons, +and swung briskly away down the cleft.</p> + +<p>He returned a few minutes before sunset, with +what appeared to be a large fur bag upon his back. +Miss Leslie was pouring a bowl of broth from the +stew-pot, and did not notice him until he sang +out to her: “Hey, Miss Jenny, spill over that +stuff! No more of that in ours!”</p> + +<p>“It’s for Mr. Winthrope. He has just wakened,” +she replied, still intent on her pouring.</p> + +<p>“And you’d kill him with that slop! Heave +it over. He’s going to have beef juice.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! what’s that on your back? You’ve +killed an antelope!”</p> + +<p>“Sure! Bushbuck, I guess they call him. +Sneaked up when he was drinking, and stuck an +arrow into his side. He jumped off a little way, +and turned to see what’d bit him. I hauled off +and put the second arrow right through his eye, +into his brain. Neatest thing you ever saw.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span>“You surely are becoming a splendid archer!”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Jim dandy! I could do it again about +once in ten thousand shots. All the same, I’ve +raked in this peacherino. Trot out your grill +and we’ll have something fit to eat.”</p> + +<p>“You spoke of beef juice.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a dozen steaks ready to broil. Slap ’em +on the fire, and I’ll squeeze out enough juice +with my fist to do Win for to-night.”</p> + +<p>He made good his assertion, using several of +the steaks, which, having lost less than half their +juices in the process, were eaten with great relish +by Miss Leslie and himself.</p> + +<p>Winthrope, after drinking the stimulating beef +juice and a quantity of hot water, turned over +and fell asleep again while Blake was dressing +his wounds. None of these was serious of itself; +but Blake knew the danger of infection in the +tropics, and carefully washed out the gashes +before applying the tallow salve which Miss +Leslie had tried out from the antelope fat.</p> + +<p>The dressing was completed by torchlight. +Blake then rolled the sleeper into a comfortable +position, took the torch from Miss Leslie, and +left the cave, pausing at the entrance to mutter +a gruff good-night. The girl murmured a response, +but watched him anxiously as he passed +out. A step beyond the entrance he paused and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +turned again. In the red glare of the torch, his +face took on an expression that filled her with +fright. Shrouded by the gloom of the hollow, +she drew back to her bed, and without turning +her eyes away from him, groped for one of her +bamboo stakes.</p> + +<p>But before she could arm herself, she saw Blake +stoop over and grasp with his free hand the mass +of interwoven bamboos. He straightened himself, +and the framework swung lightly up and over, +until it stood on end across the cave entrance. +The girl stole around and peered out at him. He +had spread open the antelope skin, and was beginning +to slice the meat for drying. Though his +forehead was furrowed, his expression was by +no means sinister. Relieved at the thought that +the light must have deceived her, she returned to +her bed and was soon sleeping as soundly as +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>Blake strung the greater part of the meat on +the drying racks, built a smudge fire beneath, and +stretched the antelope skin on a frame. This +done, he took his club and a small piece of bloody meat, +and walked stealthily down the cleft to the +barricade. Quiet as was his approach, it was met +by a warning yelp on the farther side of the +thorny wall, and he could hear the scurry of +fleeing animals.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span>He kept on until the barricade loomed up before +him in the starlight. From cliff to cliff the +wall now stretched across the gorge without hole +or gap. But Blake grasped the trunk of a young +date-palm which projected from the barricade +near the bottom, and pushed it out. The displacement +of the spiky fronds disclosed the low +passage which he had made in the centre of the +barricade. He placed the piece of meat on one +side, two or three feet from the hole, and squatted +down across from it, with his club balanced on +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Half an hour passed–an hour; and still he +waited, silent and motionless as a statue. At last +stealthy footsteps sounded on the outer side of +the thorn wall, and an animal began to creep +through the wall, sniffing for the bait. Blake +waited with the immobility of an Eskimo. The +delay was brief.</p> + +<p>With a boldness for which Blake had not been +prepared, the beast leaped through and seized the +meat. Even in the dim light, Blake could see +that he had lured an animal larger than any +jackal. But this only served to lend greater force +to his blow. As he struck, he leaped to his feet +The brute fell as though struck by lightning +and lay still.</p> + +<p>Blake prodded the inert form warily; then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +knelt and passed his hands over it. The beast +had whirled about just in time to meet the descending +club, and the blow had crushed in its +skull. Chuckling at the success of his ruse, he +drew the palm back into the opening, and swung +his prize over his shoulder. When he came to +the fire, a glance showed him that he had killed +a full-grown spotted hyena.</p> + +<p>In the morning, when Miss Leslie appeared, +there were two hides stretched on bamboo frames, +and the air was dark with vultures streaming +down into the cleft near the barricade. Blake +was sleeping the sleep of the just, and did not +waken until she had built the fire and begun to +broil the steaks which he had saved.</p> + +<p>Again they had a feast of the fresh antelope +meat. But with repletion came more of fastidiousness, +and Blake agreed with Miss Leslie when she +remarked that salt would have added to the flavor. +He set off presently, and spent half a day on the +talus of the headland, gathering salt from the rock +crannies.</p> + +<p>For the next three days he left the cleft only +to gather eggs. The greater part of his time was +spent in tanning the hyena and antelope skins. +Meantime Miss Leslie continued to nurse Winthrope +and to gather firewood. Under Blake’s +directions, she also purified the salt by dissolving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +it in a pot of water, and allowing the dirt to settle, +when the clarified solution was poured off and +evaporated over the fire in one of the earthenware +pans.</p> + +<p>At first Winthrope had been too weak to sit +up. But treated to a liberal diet of antelope +broth, raw eggs, hot water, and cocoanut milk, he +gained strength faster than Blake had expected. +On the fourth day Blake set him to work on the +final rubbing of the new skins; on the fifth, he +ordered him to go for eggs.</p> + +<p>Much to Miss Leslie’s surprise, Winthrope +started off without a word of protest. All his +peevish irritability and childishness had gone with +the fever, and the girl was gratified to see the +quiet manner in which he set about a task which +seemed an imposition upon his half-regained +strength. But the very motive which, seemingly, +prevented him from protesting, impelled her to +speak for him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake!” she exclaimed, “Mr. Winthrope +is going off without a word; but I can’t endure +it! You have no right to send him on such an +errand. It will kill him!”</p> + +<p>Blake met her indignant look with a sober stare.</p> + +<p>“What if it does!” he said. “Better for him +to die in the gallant service of his fellows, than to +sit here and rot. Eh, Win?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span>“Do not trouble yourself, Miss Genevieve. I +hope I shall pull through all right. If not–”</p> + +<p>“No, you shall not! I’ll go myself!”</p> + +<p>“See here, Miss Leslie,” said Blake, somewhat +sternly; “who’s got the responsibility of keeping +you two alive for the next month or so? I’ve +been in the tropics before, and I know something +of the way people have to live to get out again. +I’m trying to do my best, and I tell you straight, +if you won’t mind me, I’m going to make you, +no matter how much it hurts your feelings. You +see how nice and meek Win takes his orders. I +explained matters to him last night–”</p> + +<p>“I assure you, Blake, you shall have no cause +for complaint as to my conduct,” muttered Winthrope. +“I should like to observe, however, that +in speaking to Miss Leslie–”</p> + +<p>“There you are again, with your everlasting +talk. Cut it out, and get busy. To-morrow we +all go on a hike to the river.”</p> + +<p>As Winthrope started off, Blake turned to Miss +Leslie, with a good-natured grin.</p> + +<p>“You see, it’s this way, Miss Jenny–” he +began. He caught her look of disdain, and his +face darkened. “Mad, eh? So that’s the +racket!”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake, I will not have you talk to me in +that way. Mr. Winthrope is a gentleman, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +nothing more to me than a friend such as any +young woman–”</p> + +<p>“That settles it! I’ll take your word for it, +Miss Jenny,” broke in Blake, and springing up, +he set about his work, whistling.</p> + +<p>The girl gazed at his broad back and erect head, +uncertain whether she should feel relieved or +anxious. The more she thought the matter over, +the more uncertain she became, and the more she +wondered at her uncertainty. Could it be possible +that she was becoming interested in a man who, +if her ears had not deceived her– But no! That +could not be possible!</p> + +<p>Yet what a ring there was to his voice!–so +clear and tonic after Winthrope’s precise, modulated +drawl. And her countryman’s firmness! +He could be rude if need be; but he would make +her do what he thought was best for her health. +Was it not possible that she had misunderstood +his words on the cliff, and so misjudged–wronged–him?–that Winthrope, so eager to stipulate for +her hand– But then Winthrope had more than +confirmed her dreadful conclusions taken from +Blake’s words, and Winthrope was an English +gentleman. It could not be possible that an +English gentleman–</p> + +<p>She ended in a state of utter bewilderment.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SAVAGE MANIFEST</span></h2> + +<p>As Winthrope had succeeded in dragging himself +to and from the headland without a +collapse, the following morning, as soon as +the dew was dry, Blake called out all hands for the +expedition. He was in the best of humors, and +showed unexpected consideration by presenting +Winthrope with a cane, which he had cut and +trimmed during the night.</p> + +<p>Having sent Miss Leslie to fill the whiskey flask +with spring water, he dropped three cocoanut-shell +bowls, a piece of meat and a lump of salt +into one of the earthenware pots, and slung all +over his shoulder in the antelope skin. With his +bow hung over the other shoulder, knife and arrows +in his belt, and his big club in hand, he +looked ready for any contingency.</p> + +<p>“We’ll hit first for the mouth of the river,” +he said. “I’m going on ahead. If I’m not in +sight when you come up, pick a tree where the +ground is dry, and wait.”</p> + +<p>“But I say, Blake,” replied Winthrope, “I see +animals over in the coppices, and you should +know that I am physically unable–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span>“Nothing but antelope,” interrupted Blake. +“I’ve seen them enough now to know them twice +as far off. And you can bet on it they’d not +be there if any dangerous beast was in smelling +distance.”</p> + +<p>“That is so clever of you, Mr. Blake,” remarked +Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Simple enough when you happen to think +of it,” responded Blake. “Yes; the only thing +you’ve got to look out for’s the ticks in the grass. +They’ll keep you interested. They bit me up in +great shape.”</p> + +<p>He scowled at the recollection, nodded by +way of emphasis, and was off like a shot. The +edge of the plain beneath the cliff was strewn +with rocks, among which, even with Miss Leslie’s +help, Winthrope could pick his way but slowly. +Before they were clear of the rough ground, they +saw Blake disappear among the mangroves.</p> + +<p>The ticks proved less annoying than they had +apprehended after Blake’s warning. But when +they approached the mouth of the river, they +were alarmed to hear, above the roar of the surf, +loud snorting, such as could only be made by +large animals. Fearful lest Blake had roused and +angered some forest beast, they veered to the +right, and ran to hide behind a clump of thorns. +Winthrope sank down exhausted the moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +they reached cover; but Miss Leslie crept to the +far end of the thicket and peered around.</p> + +<p>“Oh, look here!” she cried. “It’s a whole +herd of elephants trying to cross the river mouth +where we did, and they’re being drowned, poor +things!”</p> + +<p>“Elephants?” panted Winthrope, and he +dragged himself forward beside her. “Why, so +there are; quite a drove of the beasts. Yet, I +must say, they appear smaller–ah, yes; see +their heads. They must be the hippos Blake +saw.”</p> + +<p>“Those ugly creatures? I once saw some at +the zoo. Just the same, they will be drowned. +Some are right in the surf!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t say, I’m sure, Miss Genevieve, but I +have an idea that the beasts are quite at home in +the water. I fancy they enjoy surf bathing as +keenly as ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“I do believe you are right. There is one +going in from the quiet water. But look at +those funny little ones on the backs of the +others!”</p> + +<p>“Must be the baby hippos,” replied Winthrope, +indifferently. “If you please, I’ll take a pull at +the flask. I am very dry.”</p> + +<p>When he had half emptied the flask, he +stretched out in the shade to doze. But Miss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +Leslie continued to watch the movements of the +snorting hippos, amused by the ponderous antics +of the grown ones in the surf, and the comic +appearance of the barrel-like infants as they +mounted the backs of their obese mothers.</p> + +<p>Presently Blake came out from among the +mangroves, and walked across to the beach, a +few yards away from the huge bathers. To all +appearances, they paid as little attention to him +as he to them. Miss Leslie glanced about at +Winthrope. He was fast asleep. She waited +a few moments to see if the hippopotami would +attack Blake. They continued to ignore him, +and gaining courage from their indifference, she +stepped out from behind the thicket, and advanced +to where Blake was crouched on the +beach. When she came up, she saw beside him +a heap of oysters, which he was opening in rapid +succession.</p> + +<p>“Hello! You’re just in time to help,” he +called. “Where’s Win!”</p> + +<p>“Asleep behind those bushes.”</p> + +<p>“Worst thing he could do. But lend a hand, and +we’ll shuck these oysters before rousting him out. +You can rinse those I’ve opened. Fill the pot +with water, and put them in to soak.”</p> + +<p>“They look very tempting. How did you +chance to find them?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span>“Saw ’em on the mangrove roots at low tide, +first time I nosed around here. Tide was well +up to-day; but I managed to get these all right +with a little diving. Only trouble, the skeets +most ate me alive.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie glanced at her companion’s dry +clothing, and came back to the oysters themselves. +“These look very tempting. Do you +like them raw?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say I like them much any way, as a rule. +But if I did, I wouldn’t eat this mess raw.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“This must be the dry season here, and the +river is running mighty clear. Just the same, +it’s nothing more than liquid malaria. We’ll not +eat these oysters till they’ve been pasteurized.”</p> + +<p>“If the water is so dangerous, I fear we will +suffer before we can return,” replied Miss Leslie, +and she held up the flask.</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Blake. “Half gone already? +That was Winthrope.”</p> + +<p>“He was very thirsty. Could we not boil a +potful of the river water?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, when the ebb gets strong, if we run too +dry. First, though, we’ll make a try for cocoanuts. +Let’s hit out for the nearest grove now. +The main thing is to keep moving.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, Blake caught up the pot and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +club, and started for the thorn clump, leaving +the skin, together with the meat and the salt, for +Miss Leslie to carry. Winthrope was wakened +by a touch of Blake’s foot, and all three were +soon walking away from the seashore, just within +the shady border of the mangrove wood.</p> + +<p>At the first fan-palm Blake stopped to gather +a number of leaves, for their palm-leaf hats were +now cracked and broken. A little farther on a +ruddy antelope, with lyrate horns, leaped out +of the bush before them and dashed off towards +the river before Blake could string his bow. As +if in mockery of his lack of readiness, a troupe of +large green monkeys set up a wild chattering in +a tree above the party.</p> + +<p>“I say, Miss Jenny, do you think you can lug +the pot, if we go slow? It isn’t far now.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try.”</p> + +<p>“Good for you, little woman! That’ll give +me a chance to shoot quick.”</p> + +<p>They moved on again for a hundred yards or +more; but though Blake kept a sharp lookout +both above and below, he saw no game other +than a few small birds and a pair of blue wood-pigeons. +When he sought to creep up on the +latter, they flew into the next tree. In following +them, he came upon a conical mound of hard +clay, nearly four feet high.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>“Hello; this must be one of those white anthills,” +he said, and he gave the mound a kick.</p> + +<p>Instantly a tiny object whirred up and struck +him in the face.</p> + +<p>“Whee!” he exclaimed, springing back and +striking out. “A hornet! No; it’s a bee!”</p> + +<p>“Did it sting you?” cried Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Sting? Keep back; there’s a lot more of +’em. Sting? Oh, no; he only hypodermicked +me with a red-hot darning needle! Shy around +here. There’s a whole swarm of the little devils, +and they’re hopping mad. Hear ’em buzz!”</p> + +<p>“But where is their hive?” asked Winthrope, +as all three drew back behind the nearest bushes.</p> + +<p>“Guess they’ve borrowed that ant-hill,” replied +Blake, gingerly fingering the white lump +which marked the spot where the bee had struck +him.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t it be delightful if we had some +honey?” exclaimed Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, that really wouldn’t be half bad!” +chimed in Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we can, Miss Jenny; only we’ll need +a fire to tackle those buzzers. Guess it’ll be as +well to let them cool off a bit also. The cocoanuts +are only a little way ahead now. Here; +give me the pot.”</p> + +<p>They soon came to a small grove of cocoanut +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +palms, where Blake threw down his club and bow +and handed his burning-glass to Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Here,” he said; “you and Win start a fire. +It’s early yet, but I’m thinking we’ll all be +ready enough for oyster stew.”</p> + +<p>“How about the meat?” asked Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Keep that till later. Here goes for our +dessert.”</p> + +<p>Selecting one of the smaller palms, Blake spat +on his hands, and began to climb the slender +trunk. Aided by previous experiences, he mounted +steadily to the top. The descent was made with +even more care and steadiness, for he did not wish +to tear the skin from his hands again.</p> + +<p>“Now, Win,” he said, as he neared the bottom +and sprang down, “leave the cooking to Miss +Leslie, and husk some of those nuts. You won’t +more’n have time to do it before the stew is +ready.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope’s response was to draw out his penknife. +Blake stretched himself at ease in the +shade, but kept a critical eye on his companions. +Although Winthrope’s fingers trembled with +weakness, he worked with a precision and rapidity +that drew a grunt of approval from Blake. +Presently Miss Leslie, who had been stirring the +stew with a twig, threw in a little salt, and drew +the pot from the fire.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span>“<i>En avant</i>, gentlemen! Dinner is served,” +she called gayly.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” demanded Blake. “Oh; sure. +Hold on, Miss Jenny. You’ll dump it all.”</p> + +<p>He wrapped a wisp of grass about the pot, and +filled the three cocoanut bowls. The stew was +boiling hot; but they fished up the oysters with +the bamboo forks that Blake had carved some +days since. By the time the oysters were eaten, +the liquor in the bowl was cool enough to drink. +The process was repeated until the pot had been +emptied of its contents.</p> + +<p>“Say, but that was something like,” murmured +Blake. “If only we’d had pretzels and beer to +go with it! But these nuts won’t be bad.”</p> + +<p>When they finished the cocoanuts, Winthrope +asked for a drink of water.</p> + +<p>“Would it not be best to keep it until later?” +replied Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” put in Blake. “We’ve had enough +liquid refreshments to do any one. If I don’t look +out, you’ll both be drinking river water. Just bear +in mind the work I’d have to carve a pair of gravestones. +No; that flask has got to do you till we +get home. I don’t shin up any more telegraph +poles to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Would it not be best for Mr. Winthrope to +rest during the noon hours?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span>“’Fraid not, Miss Jenny. We’re not on t’other +side of Jordan yet, and there’s no rest for the +weary this side.”</p> + +<p>“What odd expressions you use, Mr. Blake!”</p> + +<p>“Just giving you the reverse application of +one of those songs they jolly us with in the mission +churches–”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure, Mr. Blake–”</p> + +<p>“Me, too, Miss Jenny! So, as that’s settled, +we’ll be moving. Chuck some live coals in the +pot, and come on.”</p> + +<p>He started off, weapons in hand. Winthrope +made a languid effort to take possession of the pot. +But Miss Leslie pushed him aside, and wrapping +all in the antelope skin, slung it upon her back.</p> + +<p>“The brute!” exclaimed Winthrope. “To +leave such a load for you, when he knew that I +can do so little!”</p> + +<p>The girl met his outburst with a brave attempt +at a smile. “Please try to look at the bright side, +Mr. Winthrope. Really, I believe he thinks it is +best for us to exert ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“He has other opinions with which we of the +cultured class would hardly agree, Miss Leslie. +Consider his command that we shall go thirsty +until he permits us to return to the cliffs. The +man’s impertinence is intolerable. I shall go to +the river and drink when I choose.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>“Oh, but the danger of malaria!”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense. Malaria, like yellow fever, comes +only from the bite of certain species of mosquitoes. +If we have the fever, it will be entirely his fault. +We have been bitten repeatedly this morning, and +all because he must compel us to come with him +to this infected lowland.”</p> + +<p>“Still, I think we should do what Mr. Blake +says.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve, for your sake I will +endeavor not to break with the fellow. Only, you +know, it is deuced hard to keep one’s temper when +one considers what a bounder–what an unmitigated +cad–”</p> + +<p>“Stop! I will not listen to another word!” +exclaimed the girl, and she hurried after Blake, +leaving Winthrope staring in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“My word!” he muttered; “can it be, after +all I’ve done–and him, of all the low fellows–”</p> + +<p>He stood for several moments in deep thought. +The look on his sallow face was far from pleasant.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SERPENT STRIKES</span></h2> + +<p>When Winthrope came up with the +others, they were gathering green +leaves to throw on the fire which was +blazing close beside the ant-hill.</p> + +<p>“Get a move on you!” called Blake. “You’re +slow. Grab a bunch of leaves, and get into the +smoke, if you don’t want to be stung.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope neither gathered any leaves nor +hurried himself, until he was visited by a highly +irritated bee. Then he obeyed with alacrity. +Blake was far too intent on other matters to heed +the Englishman. Leaping in and out of the thick +of the smoke, he pounded the ant-hill with his +club, until he had broken a gaping hole into the +cavity. The smoke, pouring into the hive, made +short work of the bees that had not already been +suffocated.</p> + +<p>Although the antelope skin was drawn into the +shape of a sack, both it and the pot were filled to +overflowing with honey, and there were still more +combs left than the three could eat.</p> + +<p>Blake caught Winthrope smiling with satisfaction +as he licked his fingers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span>“What’s the matter with my expedition now, +old man?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I–ah–must admit, Blake, we have had a +most enjoyable change of food.”</p> + +<p>“If you are sure it will agree with you,” +remarked Miss Leslie.</p> + +<p>“But I am sure of that, Miss Genevieve. I +could digest anything to-day. I’m fairly ravenous.”</p> + +<p>“All the more reason to be careful,” rejoined +Blake. “I guess, though, what we’ve had’ll do +no harm. We’ll let it settle a bit, here in the +shade, and then hit the home trail.”</p> + +<p>“Could we not first go to the river, Mr. Blake? +My hands are dreadfully sticky.”</p> + +<p>“Win will take you. It’s only a little way to +the bank here and there’s not much underbrush.”</p> + +<p>“If you think it’s quite safe–” remarked +Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“It’s safe enough. Go on. You’ll see the +river in half a minute. Only thing, you’d better +watch out for alligators.”</p> + +<p>“I believe that–er–properly speaking, these +are crocodiles.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say! Heap of difference it will +make if one gets you.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie caught Winthrope’s eye. He +turned on his heel, and led the way for her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +through the first thicket. Beyond this they came +to a little glade which ran through to the river. +When they reached the bank, they stepped cautiously +down the muddy slope, and bathed their +hands in the clear water. As Miss Leslie rose, +Winthrope bent over and began to drink.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Winthrope!” she exclaimed; “please +don’t! In your weak condition, I’m so afraid–”</p> + +<p>“Do not alarm yourself. I am perfectly well, +and I am quite as competent to judge what is +good for me as your–ah–countryman.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winthrope, I am thinking only of your +own good.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope took another deep draught, rinsed +his fingers fastidiously, and arose.</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve,” he observed, +“a woman looks at these matters in such a different +light from a man. But you should know +that there are some things a gentleman cannot +tolerate.”</p> + +<p>“You were welcome to all the water in the +flask. Surely with that you could have waited, +if only to please me.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, if you put it that way, I must beg +pardon. Anything to please you, I’m sure! +Pray forgive me, and forget the incident. It is +now past.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so!” she murmured; but her heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +sank as she glanced at his sallow face, and she +recalled his languid, feeble movements.</p> + +<p>Piqued by her look, Winthrope started back +through the glade. Miss Leslie was turning to +follow, when she caught sight of a gorgeous +crimson blossom under the nearest tree. It was +the first flower she had seen since being shipwrecked. +She uttered a little cry of delight, and +ran to pluck the blossom.</p> + +<p>Winthrope, glancing about at her exclamation, +saw her stoop over the flower–and in the same +instant he saw a huge vivid coil, all black and green +and yellow, flash up out of the bedded leaves and +strike against the girl. She staggered back, screaming +with horror, yet seemed unable to run.</p> + +<p>Winthrope swung up his stick, and dashed +across the glade towards her.</p> + +<p>“What is it–a snake?” he cried.</p> + +<p>The girl did not seem to hear him. She had +ceased screaming, and stood rigid with fright, +glaring down at the ground before her. In a +moment Winthrope was near enough, to make +out the brilliant glistening body, now extended +full length in the grass. It was nearly five feet +long and thick as his thigh. Another step, and +he saw the hideous triangular head, lifted a few +inches on the thick neck. The cold eyes were +fixed upon the girl in a malignant, deadly stare.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span>“Snake! snake!” he yelled, and thrust his +cane at the reptile’s tail.</p> + +<p>Again came a flashing leap of the beautiful ornate +coil, and the stick was struck from Winthrope’s +hand. He danced backward, wild with +excitement.</p> + +<p>“Snake!–Hi, Blake! monster!–Run, Miss +Leslie! I’ll hold him–I’ll get another stick!”</p> + +<p>He darted aside to catch up a branch, and then +ran in and struck boldly at the adder, which reared +hissing to meet him. But the blow fell short, and +the rotten wood shattered on the ground. Again +Winthrope ran aside for a stick. There was none +near, and as he paused to glance about, Blake +came sprinting down the glade.</p> + +<p>“Where?” he shouted.</p> + +<p>“There–Hi! look out! You’ll be on him!”</p> + +<p>Blake stopped short, barely beyond striking +distance of the hissing reptile.</p> + +<p>“Wow!” he yelled. “Puff adder! I’ll fix +him.”</p> + +<p>He leaped back, and thrust his bow at the snake. +The challenge was met by a vicious lunge. Even +where he stood Winthrope heard the thud of the +reptile’s head upon the ground.</p> + +<p>“Now, once more, tootsie!” mocked Blake, +swinging up his club.</p> + +<p>Again the adder struck at the bow tip, more +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +viciously than before. With the flash of the +stroke, Blake’s right foot thrust forward, and his +club came down with all the drive of his sinewy +arm behind it. The blow fell across the thickest +part of the adder’s outstretched body.</p> + +<p>“Told you so! See him wiggle!” shouted +Blake. “Broke his back, first lick– What’s the +matter, Miss Jenny? He can’t do anything now.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie did not answer. She stood rigid, +her face ashy-gray, her dilated eyes fixed upon the +writhing, hissing adder.</p> + +<p>“I–I think the snake struck her!” gasped +Winthrope, suddenly overcome with horror.</p> + +<p>“God!” cried Blake. He dropped his club, +and rushed to the girl. In a moment he had +knelt before her and flung up her leopard-skin +skirt. Her stockings ripped to shreds in his frantic +grasp. There, a little below her right knee, +was a tiny red wound. Blake put his lips to it, +and sucked with fierce energy.</p> + +<p>Then the girl found her voice.</p> + +<p>“Go away–go away! How dare you!” she +cried, as her face flushed scarlet.</p> + +<p>Blake turned, spat, and burst out with a loud +demand of Winthrope: “Quick! the little knife–I’ll have to slash it! Ten times worse than +a rattlesnake– Lord! you’re slow–I’ll use +mine!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span>“Let go of me–let go! What do you mean, +sir?” cried the girl, struggling to free herself.</p> + +<p>“Hold still, you little fool!” he shouted. +“It’s death–sure death, if I don’t get the +poison from that bite!”</p> + +<p>“I’m not bitten– Let go, I say! It struck +in the fold of my skirt.”</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, Jenny, don’t lie! It’s +certain death! I saw the mark–”</p> + +<p>“That was a thorn. I drew it out an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>Blake looked up into her hazel eyes. They +were blazing with indignant scorn. He freed +her, and rose with clumsy slowness. Again he +glanced at her quivering, scarlet face, only to +look away with a sheepish expression.</p> + +<p>“I guess you think I’m just a damned meddlesome +idiot,” he mumbled.</p> + +<p>She did not answer. He stood for a little, +rubbing a finger across his sun-blistered lips. +Suddenly he stopped and looked at the finger. +It was streaked with blood.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t stop to +think of that! It’s just as well for me, Miss +Jenny, that wasn’t an adder bite. A little +poison on my sore lip would have done for me. +Ten to one, we’d both have turned up our toes +at the same time. Of course, though, that’d +be nothing to you.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span>Miss Leslie put her hands before her face, and +burst into hysterical weeping.</p> + +<p>Blake looked around, far more alarmed than +when facing the adder.</p> + +<p>“Here, you blooming lud!” he shouted; +“take the lady away, and be quick about it. +She’ll go dotty if she sees any more snake stunts. +Clear out with her, while I smash the wriggler.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope, who had been staring fixedly at +the beautiful coloring and loathsome form of the +writhing adder, started at Blake’s harsh command +as though struck.</p> + +<p>“I–er–to be sure,” he stammered, and darting +around to the hysterical girl, he took her arm +and hurried her away up the glade.</p> + +<p>They had gone several paces when Blake came +running up behind them. Winthrope looked +back with a glance of inquiry. Blake shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” he said. “Give me your cigarette +case. I’ve thought of something– Hold on; +take out the cigarettes. Smoke ’em, if you like.”</p> + +<p>Case in hand, Blake returned to the wounded +adder, and picked up his club. A second smashing +blow would have ended the matter at once; +but Blake did not strike. Instead, he feinted +with his club until he managed to pin down +the venomous head. The club lay across the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +monster’s neck, and he held it fast with the +pressure of his foot.</p> + +<p>When, half an hour later, he wiped his knife +on a wisp of grass and stood up, the cigarette +case contained over a tablespoonful of a crystalline +liquid. He peered in at it, his heavy +jaw thrust out, his eyes glowing with savage +elation.</p> + +<p>“Talk about your meat trusts and Winchesters!” +he exulted; “here’s a whole carload +of beef in this little box–enough dope +to morgue a herd of steers. Good God, though, +that was a close shave for her!”</p> + +<p>His face sobered, and he stood for several +moments staring thoughtfully into space. Then +his gaze chanced to fall upon the great crimson +blossom which had so nearly lured the girl to +her death.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he exclaimed; “that’s an amaryllis. +Wonder if she wasn’t coming to pick it–” He +snapped shut the lid of the cigarette case, thrust +it carefully into his shirt pocket, and stepped +forward to pluck the flower. “Makes a fellow +feel like a kid; but maybe it’ll make her feel +less sore at me.”</p> + +<p>He stood gazing at the flower for several +moments, his eyes aglow with a soft blue light.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” he sighed; “if only– But what’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +the use? She’s ’way out of my class–a rough +brute like me! All the same, it’s up to me to +take care of her. She can’t keep me from being +her friend–and she sure can’t object to my +picking flowers for her.”</p> + +<p>Amaryllis in hand, he gathered up his bow +and club. Then he paused to study the skin +of the decapitated adder. The inspection ended +with a shake of his head.</p> + +<p>“Better not, Thomas. It would make a dandy +quiver; but then, it might get on her nerves.”</p> + +<p>When he came to the ant-hill, he found companions +and honey alike gone. He went on +to the cocoanuts. There he came upon Winthrope +stretched flat beside the skin of honey. +Miss Leslie was seated a little way beyond, nervously +bending a palm-leaf into shape for a hat.</p> + +<p>“I say, Blake,” drawled Winthrope, “you’ve +been a deuced long time in coming. It was no +end of a task to lug the honey–”</p> + +<p>Blake brushed past without replying, and went +on until he stood before the girl. As she glanced +up at him, he held out the crimson blossom.</p> + +<p>“Thought you might like posies,” he said, in +a hesitating voice.</p> + +<p>Instead of taking the flower, she drew back +with a gesture of repulsion.</p> + +<p>“Oh, take it away!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span>Blake flung the rejected gift on the ground, +and crushed it beneath his heel.</p> + +<p>“Catch me making a fool of myself again!” +he growled.</p> + +<p>“I–I did not mean it that way–really I +didn’t, Mr. Blake. It was the thought of that +awful snake.”</p> + +<p>But Blake, cut to the quick, had turned away, +far too angry to heed what she said. He stopped +short beside the Englishman; but only to sling +the skin of honey upon his back. The load was +by no means a light one, even for his strength. +Yet he caught up the heavy pot as well, and +made off across the plain at a pace which the +others could not hope to equal.</p> + +<p>As Winthrope rose and came forward to join +Miss Leslie, he looked about closely for the +bruised flower. It was nowhere in sight.</p> + +<p>“Er–beg pardon, Miss Genevieve, but did +not Blake drop the bloom–er–blossom somewhere +about here?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he did,” replied Miss Leslie. She +spoke with studied indifference.</p> + +<p>“I–ah–saw the fellow exhibit his impudence.”</p> + +<p>“Ye-es?”</p> + +<p>“You know, I think it high time the bounder +is taken down a peg.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span>“Ah, indeed! Then why do you not try it?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Genevieve! you know that at present I +am physically so much his inferior–”</p> + +<p>“How about mentally?”</p> + +<p>Though the girl’s eyes were veiled by their +lashes, she saw Winthrope cast after Blake a look +that seemed to her almost fiercely vindictive.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said, smiling, but watching him +closely.</p> + +<p>“Mentally!–We’ll soon see about that!” he +muttered. “I must say, Miss Genevieve, it +strikes me as deuced odd, you know, to hear +you speak so pleasantly of a person who–not to +mention past occurrences–has to-day, with the +most shocking disregard of–er–decency–”</p> + +<p>“Stop!–stop this instant!” screamed the girl, +her nerves overwrought.</p> + +<p>Winthrope smiled with complacent assurance.</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady,” he drawled, “allow +me to repeat, ‘All is fair in love and war.’ +Believe me, I love you most ardently.”</p> + +<p>“No gentleman would press his suit at such a +time as this!”</p> + +<p>“Really now, I fancy I have always comported +myself as a gentleman–”</p> + +<p>“A trifle too much so, truth to say!” she +retorted.</p> + +<p>“Ah, indeed. However, this is now quite +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +another matter. Has it not occurred to you, my +dear, that this entire experience of ours since that +beastly storm is rather–er–compromising?”</p> + +<p>“You–you dare say such a thing! I’ll go +this instant and tell Mr. Blake! I’ll–”</p> + +<p>“Begging your pardon, madam,–but are you +prepared to marry that barbarous clodhopper?”</p> + +<p>“Marry? What do you mean, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Precisely that. It is a question of marriage, +if you’ll pardon me. And, you see, I flatter +myself, that when it comes to the point, it will +not be Blake, but myself–”</p> + +<p>“Ah, indeed! And if I should prefer neither +of you?”</p> + +<p>“Begging your pardon,–I fancy you will +honor me with your hand, my dear. For one +thing, you admit that I am a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, indeed!”</p> + +<p>“One moment, please! I am trying to intimate +to you, as delicately as possible, how–er–embarrassing you would find it to have these +little occurrences–above all, to-day’s–noised +abroad to the vulgar crowd, or even among your +friends–”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? What do you +want?” cried the girl, staring at him with a +deepening fear in her bewildered eyes.</p> + +<p>“Believe me, my dear, it grieves me to so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +perturb you; but–er–love must have its way, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“You forget. There is Mr. Blake.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, to be sure! But really now, you would +not ask, or even permit him to murder me; and +one is not legally bound, you know, to observe +promises–a pledge of silence, for example–when +extorted under duress, under violence, you +know.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie looked the Englishman up and +down, her brown eyes sparkling with quick-returning +anger. He met her scorn with a smile +of smug complacency.</p> + +<p>“Cad!” she cried, and turning her back upon +him, she set out across the plain after Blake.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span><a id='link_18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE EAVESDROPPER CAUGHT</span></h2> + +<p>Even had it not been for her doubts of +Blake, the girl’s modesty would have +caused her to think twice before repeating +to him the Englishman’s insulting proposal. +While she yet hesitated and delayed, Winthrope +came down with a second attack of fever. Blake, +who until then had held himself sullenly apart +from him as well as from Miss Leslie, at once +softened to a gentler, or, at least, to a more considerate +mood. Though his speech and bearing +continued morose, he took upon himself all +the duties of night nurse, besides working and +foraging several hours each day.</p> + +<p>Much to Miss Leslie’s surprise, she found herself +tending the invalid through the daytime almost +as though nothing had happened. But +everything about this wild and perilous life was +so strange and unnatural to her that she found herself +accepting the most unconventional relations +as a regular consequence of the situation. She +was feverishly eager for anything that might +occupy her mind; for she felt that to brood over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +the future might mean madness. The mere +thought of the possibilities was far too terrifying +to be calmly dwelt upon. Though slight, +there had been some little comfort in the belief +that she could rely on Winthrope. But now she +was left alone with her doubt and dread. Even +if she had nothing to fear from Blake, there were +all the savage dangers of the coast, and behind +those, far worse, the fever.</p> + +<p>Meantime Blake went about his share of the +camp work, gruff and silent, but with the usual +concrete results. He brought load after load of +fresh cocoanuts, and took great pains to hunt out +the deliciously flavored eggs of the frigate birds +to tempt Winthrope’s failing appetite. When +Miss Leslie suggested that beef juice would be +much better for the invalid than broth, he went +out immediately in search of a gum-bearing tree, +and that night, after heating a small quantity of +gum in the cigarette case with the adder poison, +he spent hours replacing his arrow-heads with +small barbed tips that could be loosened from +their sockets by a slight pull.</p> + +<p>A little before dawn he dipped two of his new +arrow-heads in the sticky contents of the cigarette +case, fitted them carefully to their shafts, and +stole away down the cleft. Dawn found him +crouched low in the grass where the overflow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +from the pool ran out into the plain along its +little channel. He could see large forms moving +away from him; then came the flood of +crimson light, and he made out that the figures +were a drove of huge eland.</p> + +<p>His eyes flashed with eagerness. It was a long +shot; but he knew that no more was required than +to pierce the skin on any part of his quarry’s body. +He put his fingers between his teeth, and sent out +a piercing whistle. It was a trick he had tried +more than once on deer and pronghorn antelope. +As he expected, the eland halted and swung half +around. Their ox-like sides presented a mark +hard to miss.</p> + +<p>He rose and shot as they were wheeling to fly. +Before he could fit his second arrow to the string, +the whole herd were running off at a lumbering +gallop. He lowered his bow, and walked after +the animals, smiling with grim anticipation. He +had seen his arrow strike against the side of the +young bull at which he had aimed.</p> + +<p>A little beyond where the bull had stood, he +came upon the headless shaft of his arrow. As he +stooped and caught it up, he saw one of the fleeing +animals fall. When he came up with the dead +bull, his first act was to recover his arrow-tip and +cut out the flesh around the wound. Provided +only with his weak-bladed knife, he found it no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +easy task to butcher so large a beast. Though he +had now acquired considerable dexterity in the +art, noon had passed before he brought the first +load of meat up the cleft.</p> + +<p>So great was the abundance of meat that Blake +worked all the remainder of the day and all night +stringing the flesh on the curing racks, and Miss +Leslie tried out pot after pot of fat and tallow, +until every spare vessel was filled, and she had to +resort to a hollow in the rock beside the spring. +Blake promised to make more pots as soon as he +could fetch the clay, but he had first to dress the +eland hide, and prepare a new stock of thread and +cord from parts of the animal which he was careful +not to let her see.</p> + +<p>Whatever their concern for the future,–and +even Blake’s was keen and bitter,–the party, as +a party, for the time being might have been considered +extremely fortunate. They had a shelter +secure alike from the weather and from wild +beasts; an abundance of nutritious food, and, as +material for clothing, the bushbuck, hyena, and +eland hides. To obtain more skins and more meat +Blake now knew would be a simple matter so long +as he had enough poison left in the cigarette case +to moisten the tips of his arrows.</p> + +<p>Even Winthrope’s relapse proved far less serious +than might reasonably have been expected. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +fever soon left him, and within a few days he +regained strength enough to care for himself. +Here, however, much to Blake’s perplexity and +concern, his progress seemed to stop, and all +Blake’s urging could do no more than cause him +to move languidly from one shady spot to another. +He would receive Blake’s orders with a smile and +a drawling “Ya-as, to be sure!”–and would +then absolutely ignore the matter.</p> + +<p>Only in two ways did the invalid exhibit any +signs of energy. He could and did eat with a +heartiness little short of that shown by Blake, +and he would insist upon seeking opportunities +to press his attentions upon Miss Leslie. He was +careful to avoid all offensive remarks; yet the +veriest commonplace from his lips was now an +offence to the girl. While he needed her as +nurse, she had endured his talk as part of her +duty. But now she felt that she could no longer +do so. Taking advantage of a time when the +Englishman was, as she supposed, enjoying a +noonday siesta down towards the barricade, she +went to meet Blake, who had been up on the cliff +for eggs.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he sang out, as he swung down the +tree, one hand gripping the clay pot in which he +had gathered the eggs. “What you doing out +in the sun? Get into the shade.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span>She stepped into the shade, and waited until +he had climbed down the pile of stones which he +had built for steps at the foot of the tree.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake,” she began, “could not I do this +work,–gather the eggs?”</p> + +<p>“You could, if I’d let you, Miss Jenny. But it +strikes me you’ve got quite enough to do. Tell +you the truth, I’d like to make Win take it in hand +again. But all my cussing won’t budge him an +inch, and you know, when it comes to the rub, I +couldn’t wallop a fellow who can hardly stand up.”</p> + +<p>“Is he really so weak?” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“Well, you know how– Say, you don’t +mean that you think he’s shamming?”</p> + +<p>“I did not say that I thought so, Mr. Blake. +I do not care to talk about him. What I wish is +that you will let me attend to this work.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t think of it, Miss Jenny! You’re +already doing your share.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake,–if you must know,–I wish to +have a place where I can go and be apart–alone.”</p> + +<p>Blake scowled. “Alone with that dude! He’d +soon find enough strength to climb up with you +on the cliff.”</p> + +<p>“I–ah–Mr. Blake, would he be apt to +follow me, if I told you distinctly I should rather +be alone?”</p> + +<p>“Would he? Well, I should rather guess +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +not!” cried Blake, making no attempt to conceal +his delight. “I’ll give him a hint that’ll make +his hair curl. From now on, nobody climbs +up this tree but you, without first asking your +permission.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Blake! You are very kind.”</p> + +<p>“Kind to let you do more work! But say, +I’ll help out all I can on the other work. You +know, Miss Jenny,–a rough fellow like me don’t +know how to say it, but he can think it just the +same,–I’d do anything in the world for you!”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he held out his rough, powerful +hand. She shrank back a little, and caught her +breath in sudden fright. But when she met his +steady gaze, her fear left her as quickly as it had +come. She impulsively thrust out her hand, and +he seized it in a grip that brought the tears to her +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Miss Jenny! Miss Jenny!” he murmured, +utterly unconscious that he was hurting her, +“you know now that I’m your friend, Miss +Jenny!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Blake,” she answered, blushing and +drawing her hand free. “I believe you are a +friend–I believe I can trust you.”</p> + +<p>“You can, by–Jiminy! But say,” he continued, +blundering with dense stupidity, “do you +really mean that? Can you forgive me for being +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +so confounded meddlesome, the other day, after +the snake–”</p> + +<p>He stopped short, for upon the instant she was +facing him, as on that eventful day, scarlet with +shame and anger.</p> + +<p>“How dare you speak of it?” she cried. +“You’re–you’re not a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>Before he could reply, she turned and left him, +walking rapidly and with her head held high. +Blake stared after her in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Well, what in–what in thunder have I done +now?” he exclaimed. “Ladies are certainly +mighty funny! To go off at a touch–and just +when I thought we were going to be chums! +But then, of course, I’ve the whole thing to +learn about nice girls–like her!”</p> + +<p>“I–ah–must certainly agree with you there, +Blake,” drawled Winthrope, from beside the +nearest bush.</p> + +<p>Blake turned upon him with savage fury: +“You dirty sneak!–you <i>gentleman!</i> You’ve +been eavesdropping!”</p> + +<p>The Englishman’s yellow face paled to a sallow +mottled gray. He had seen the same look in +Blake’s eyes twice before, and this time Blake +was far more angry.</p> + +<p>“You sneak!–you sham gent!” repeated the +American, his voice sinking ominously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span>Winthrope dropped in an abject heap, as though +Blake had struck him with his club.</p> + +<p>“No, no!” he protested shrilly. “I am a real–I am–I’m a not–”</p> + +<p>“That’s it–you’re a not! That’s true!” +broke in Blake, with sudden grim humor. +“You’re a nothing. A fellow can’t even wipe +his shoes on nothing!”</p> + +<p>The change to sarcasm came as an immense +relief to Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“Ah, I say now, Blake,” he drawled, pulling +together his assurance the instant the dangerous +light left Blake’s eyes, “I say now, do you think +it fair to pick on a man who is so much your–er–who is ill and weak?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it–do the baby act,” jeered Blake. +“But say, I don’t know just how much eavesdropping +you did; so there’s one thing I’ll repeat +for the special benefit of your ludship. It’ll be +good for your delicate health to pay attention. +From now on, the cliff top belongs to Miss Leslie. +Gents and book agents not allowed. Understand? +You don’t go up there without her +special invite. If you do, I’ll twist your damned +neck!”</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel, and left the Englishman +cowering.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span><a id='link_19'></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>AN OMINOUS LULL</span></h2> + +<p>The three saw nothing more of each other +that day. Miss Leslie had withdrawn into +the baobab, and Blake had gone off down +the cleft for more salt. He did not return until +after the others were asleep. Miss Leslie had +gone without her supper, or had eaten some of +the food stored within the tree.</p> + +<p>When, late the next morning, she finally left her +seclusion, Blake was nowhere in sight. Ignoring +Winthrope’s attempts to start a conversation, she +hurried through her breakfast, and having gathered +a supply of food and water, went to spend the day +on the headland.</p> + +<p>Evening forced her to return to the cleft. +She had emptied the water flask by noon, and +was thirsty. Winthrope was dozing beneath his +canopy, which Blake had moved some yards +down towards the barricade. Blake was cooking +supper.</p> + +<p>He did not look up, and met her attempt at +a pleasant greeting with an inarticulate grunt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +When she turned to enter the baobab, she found +the opening littered with bamboos and green +creepers and pieces of large branches with charred +ends. On either side, midway through the entrance, +a vertical row of holes had been sunk +through the bark of the tree into the soft wood.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” she asked. “Are you planning +a porch?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“But why should you make the holes so far in? +I know so little about these matters, but I should +have fancied the holes would come on the front of +the tree.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll see in a day or two.”</p> + +<p>“How did you make the holes? They look +black, as though–”</p> + +<p>“Burnt ’em, of course–hot stones.”</p> + +<p>“That was so clever of you!”</p> + +<p>He made no response.</p> + +<p>Supper was eaten in silence. Even Winthrope’s +presence would have been a relief to the girl; yet +she could not go to waken him, or even suggest +that her companion do so. Blake sat throughout +the meal sullen and stolid, and carefully avoided +meeting her gaze. Before they had finished, twilight +had come and gone, and night was upon +them. Yet she lingered for a last attempt.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, friend!” she whispered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span>He sprang up as though she had struck him, +and blundered away into the darkness.</p> + +<p>In the morning it was as before. He had gone +off before she wakened. She lingered over breakfast; +but he did not appear, and she could not +endure Winthrope’s suave drawl. She went for +another day on the headland.</p> + +<p>She returned somewhat earlier than on the previous +day. As before, Winthrope was dozing in +the shade. But Blake was under the baobab, raking +together a heap of rubbish. His hands were +scratched and bleeding. To the girl’s surprise, he +met her with a cheerful grin and a clear, direct +glance.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he called.</p> + +<p>She stepped around the baobab, and stood +staring. The entrance, from the ground to the +height of twelve feet, was walled up with a mass +of thorny branches, interwoven with yet thornier +creepers.</p> + +<p>“How’s that for a front door?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Door?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s so big. I could never move it.”</p> + +<p>“A child could. Look.” He grasped a projecting +handle near the bottom of the thorny mass. +The lower half of the door swung up and outward, +the upper half in and downward. “See; it’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +balanced on a crossbar in the middle. Come +on in.”</p> + +<p>She walked after him in under the now horizontal +door. He gave the inner end a light upward +thrust, and the door swung back in its vertical +circle until it again stood upright in the opening. +From the inside the girl could see the strong +framework to which was lashed the facing of +thorns. It was made of bamboo and strong +pieces of branches, bound together with tough +creepers.</p> + +<p>“Pretty good grating, eh?” remarked Blake. +“When those green creepers dry, they’ll shrink +and hold tight as iron clamps. Even now nothing +short of a rhinoceros could walk through +when the bars are fast. See here.”</p> + +<p>He stepped up to the novel door, and slid +several socketed crossbars until their outer ends +were deep in the holes in the tree trunk, three +on each side.</p> + +<p>“How’s that for a set of bolts?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Wonderful! Really, you are very, very +clever! But why should you go to all this +trouble, when the barricade–”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, it’s best to be on the safe +side.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s absurd for you to go to all this +needless work. Not that I do not appreciate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +your kind thought for my safety. Yet look at +your hands!”</p> + +<p>Blake hastened to put his bleeding hands behind +him.</p> + +<p>“They are no sight for a lady!” he muttered +apologetically.</p> + +<p>“Go and wash them at once, and I’ll put on a +dressing.”</p> + +<p>Blake glowed with frank pleasure, yet shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, Miss Jenny. You needn’t +bother. They’ll do all right.”</p> + +<p>“You must! It would please me.”</p> + +<p>“Why, then, of course– But first, I want +to make sure you understand fastening the door. +Try the bars yourself.”</p> + +<p>She obeyed, sliding the bars in and out until +he nodded his satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Good!” he said. “Now promise me you’ll +slide ’em fast every night.”</p> + +<p>“If you ask it. But why?”</p> + +<p>“I want to make perfectly safe.”</p> + +<p>“Safe? But am I not secure with–”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Miss Leslie; I’m not going to +say anything about anybody.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you had better say no more, Mr. +Blake.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right. But whatever happens, you’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +believe I’ve done my best, won’t you?–even if +I’m not a– Promise me straight, you’ll lock up +tight every night.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, I promise,” responded the girl, +not a little troubled by the strangeness of his +expression.</p> + +<p>He turned at once, swung open the door, and +went out. During supper he was markedly taciturn, +and immediately afterwards went off to his +bed.</p> + +<p>That night Miss Leslie dutifully fastened herself +in with all six bars. She wakened at dawn, +and hastened out to prepare Blake’s breakfast, +but she found herself too late. There were evidences +that he had eaten and gone off before +dawn. The stretching frame of one of the antelope +skins had been moved around by the fire, +and on the smooth inner surface of the hide was a +laconic note, written with charcoal in a firm, bold +hand:–</p> + +<p>“<i>Exploring inland. Back by night, if can</i>.”</p> + +<p>She bit her lip in her disappointment, for she +had planned to show him how much she appreciated +his absurd but well-meant concern for her +safety. As it was, he had gone off without a +word, and left her to the questionable pleasure of +a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Winthrope. Hoping to avoid +this, she hurried her preparations for a day on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +cliff. But before she could get off, Winthrope +sauntered up, hiding his yawns behind a hand +which had regained most of its normal plumpness. +His eye was at once caught by the charcoal +note.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he drawled; “really now, this is too +kind of him to give us the pleasure of his +absence all day!”</p> + +<p>“Ye-es!” murmured Miss Leslie. “Permit +me to add that you will also have the pleasure of +my absence. I am going now.”</p> + +<p>Winthrope looked down, and began to speak +very rapidly: “Miss Genevieve, I–I wish to +apologize. I’ve thought it over. I’ve made a +mistake–I–I mean, my conduct the other +day was vile, utterly vile! Permit me to appeal +to your considerateness for a man who has been +unfortunate–who, I mean, has been–er–was +carried away by his feelings. Your favoring of +that bloom–er–that–er–bounder so angered +me that I–that I–”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winthrope!” interrupted the girl, “I will +have you to understand that you do not advance +yourself in my esteem by such references to Mr. +Blake.”</p> + +<p>“Aye! aye, that Blake!” panted Winthrope. +“Don’t you see? It’s ’im, an’ that blossom! +W’en a man’s daffy–w’en ’e’s in love!–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span>Miss Leslie burst into a nervous laugh; but +checked herself on the instant.</p> + +<p>“Really, Mr. Winthrope!” she exclaimed, “you +must pardon me. I–I never knew that cultured +Englishmen ever dropped their h’s. As it happens, +you know, I never saw one excited before +this.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; to be sure–to be sure!” murmured +Winthrope, in an odd tone.</p> + +<p>The girl threw out her hand in a little gesture +of protest.</p> + +<p>“Really, I’m sorry to have hurt–to have been +so thoughtless!”</p> + +<p>Winthrope stood silent. She spoke again: “I’ll +do what you ask. I’ll make allowances for your–for your feelings towards me, and will try to +forget all you said the other day. Let me begin +by asking a favor of you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Miss Genevieve, anything, to be sure, that +I may do!”</p> + +<p>“It is that I wish your opinion. When Mr. +Blake finished that absurd door last evening, he +would not tell me why he had built it–only a +vague statement about my safety.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! He did not go into particulars?” +drawled Winthrope.</p> + +<p>“No, not even a hint; and he looked so–odd.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span>Winthrope slowly rubbed his soft palms on +upon the other.</p> + +<p>“Do you–er–really desire to know his–the motive which actuated him?” he murmured.</p> + +<p>“I should not have mentioned it to you, if I +did not,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Well–er–” He hesitated and paused for +a full minute. “You see, it is a rather difficult +undertaking to intimate such a matter to a lady–just the right touch of delicacy, you know. +But I will begin by explaining that I have known +it since the first–”</p> + +<p>“Known what?”</p> + +<p>“Of that bound–of–er–Blake’s trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Trouble?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! Perhaps I should have said affliction; +yes, that is the better word. To own the truth, +the fellow has some good qualities. It was no +doubt because he realised, when in his better +moments–”</p> + +<p>“Better moments? Mr. Winthrope, I am not +a child. In justice both to myself and to Mr. +Blake, I must ask you to speak out plainly.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Leslie, may I first ask if you +have not observed how strangely at times the fellow +acts,–‘looks odd,’ as you put it,–how he +falls into melancholia or senseless rages? I may +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +truthfully state that he has three times threatened +my life.”</p> + +<p>“I–I thought his anger quite natural, after I +had so rudely–and so many people are given to +brooding– But if he was violent to you–”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Genevieve, I hold nothing +against the miserable fellow. At such times he is +not–er–responsible, you know. Let us give +the fellow full credit–that is why he himself +built your door.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I can’t believe it! I can’t believe +it!” cried the girl. “It’s not possible! He’s so +strong, so true and manly, so kind, for all his +gruffness!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my dear!” soothed Winthrope, “that is +the pity of it. But when a man must needs be +his worst enemy, when he must needs lead a certain +kind of life, he must take the consequences. +To put it as delicately as possible, yet explain all, +I need only say one word–paranoia.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie gathered up her day’s outfit with +trembling fingers, and went to mount the cliff.</p> + +<p>After waiting a few minutes Winthrope walked +hurriedly through the cleft, and climbed the tree-ladder +with an agility that would have amazed +his companions. But he did not draw himself up +on the cliff. Having satisfied himself that Miss +Leslie was well out toward the signal, he returned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +to the baobab, and proceeded to examine Blake’s +door with minute scrutiny.</p> + +<p>That evening, shortly before dark, Blake came +in almost exhausted by his journey. Few men +could have covered the same ground in twice the +time. It had been one continuous round of grass +jungle, thorn scrub, rocks, and swamp. And for +all his pains, he brought back with him nothing +more than the discouraging information that the +back-country was worse than the shore. Yet +he betrayed no trace of depression over the +bad news, and for all his fatigue, maintained a +tone of hearty cheerfulness until, having eaten +his fill, he suddenly observed Miss Leslie’s frigid +politeness.</p> + +<p>“What’s up now?” he demanded. “You’re +not mad ’cause I hiked off this morning without +notice?”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not, Mr. Blake. Nothing of +the kind. But I–”</p> + +<p>“Well,-what?” he broke in, as she hesitated. +“I can’t, for the world, think of anything else +I’ve done–”</p> + +<p>“You’ve done! Perhaps I might suggest that +it is a question of what you haven’t done.” The +girl was trembling on the verge of hysterics. +“Yes, what you’ve not done! All these weeks, +and not a single attempt to get us away from here, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +except that miserable signal; and I as good as +put that up! You call yourself a man! But I–I–” She stopped short, white with a sudden +overpowering fear.</p> + +<p>Winthrope looked from her to Blake with +a sidelong glance, his lips drawn up in an odd +twist.</p> + +<p>There followed several moments of tense +silence; then Blake mumbled apologetically: +“Well, I suppose I might have done more. I +was so dead anxious to make sure of food and +shelter. But this trip to-day–”</p> + +<p>“Mr.–Mr. Blake, pray do not get excited–I–I +mean, please excuse me. I’m–”</p> + +<p>“You’re coming down sick!” he said.</p> + +<p>“No, no! I have no fever.”</p> + +<p>“Then it’s the sun. Yet you ought to keep up +there where the air is freshest. I’ll make you +a shade.”</p> + +<p>She protested, and withdrew, somewhat hurriedly, +to her tree.</p> + +<p>In the morning Blake was gone again; but instead +of a note, beside the fire stood the smaller +antelope skin, converted into a great bamboo-ribbed +sunshade.</p> + +<p>She spent the day as usual on the headland. +There was no wind, and the sun was scorching +hot. But with her big sunshade to protect her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +from the direct rays, the heat was at least endurable. +She even found energy to work at a basket +which she was attempting to weave out of long, +coarse grass; yet there were frequent intervals +when her hands sank idle in her lap, and she +gazed away over the shimmering glassy expanse +of the ocean.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon the heat became oppressively +sultry, and a long slow swell began to roll shoreward +from beyond the distant horizon, showing no +trace of white along its oily crests until they broke +over the coral reefs. There was not a breath of +air stirring, and for a time the reefs so checked +the rollers that they lacked force to drive on in +and break upon the beach.</p> + +<p>Steadily, however, the swell grew heavier, +though not so much as a cat’s-paw ruffled the +dead surfaces of the watery hillocks. By sunset +they were rolling high over both lines of reefs +and racing shoreward to break upon the beach +and the cliff foot in furious surf. The still air reverberated +with the booming of the breakers. +Yet the girl, inland bred and unversed in weather +lore, sat heedless and indifferent, her eyes fixed +upon the horizon in a vacant stare.</p> + +<p>Her reverie was at last disturbed by the peculiar +behavior of the seafowl. Those in the air +circled around in a manner strange to her, while +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +their mates on the ledges waddled restlessly about +over and between their nests. There was a +shriller note than usual in their discordant +clamor.</p> + +<p>Yet even when she gave heed to the birds, the +girl failed to realize their alarm or to sense the +impending danger. It was only that a feeling of +disquiet had broken the spell of her reverie; it did +not obtrude upon the field of her conscious thought. +She sighed, and rose to return to the cleft, idly +wondering that the air should seem more sultry +than at mid-day. The peculiar appearance of the +sun and the western sky meant nothing more to +her than an odd effect of color and light. She +smilingly compared it with an attempt at a sunset +painted by an artist friend of the impressionist +school.</p> + +<p>Neither Winthrope nor Blake was in sight when +she reached the baobab, and neither appeared, +though she delayed supper until dark. It was quite +possible that they had eaten before her return and +had gone off again, the Englishman to doze, and +Blake on an evening hunt.</p> + +<p>At last, tired of waiting, she covered the fire, +and retired into her tree-cave. The air in the cleft +was still more stifling than on the headland. She +paused, with her hand upraised to close the swinging +door. She had propped it open when she came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +out in the morning. After a moment’s hesitation, +she went on across the hollow, leaving the door +wide open.</p> + +<p>“I will rest a little, and close it later,” she +sighed. She was feeling weary and depressed.</p> + +<p>An hour passed. An ominous stillness lay +upon the cleft. Even the cicadas had hushed +their shrill note. The only sound was a muffled +reverberating echo of the surf roaring upon the +seashore. Beneath the giant spread of the baobab +all was blackness.</p> + +<p>Something moved in a bush a little way down +the cleft. A crouching figure appeared, dimly +outlined in the starlight. The figure crept stealthily +across into the denser night of the baobab. +The darkness closed about it like a shroud.</p> + +<p>A blinding flash of light pierced the blackness. +The figure halted and crouched lower, though the +flash had gone again in a fraction of a second. A +dull rumbling mingled with the ceaseless boom of +the surf.</p> + +<p>A second flash lighted the cleft with its dazzling +coruscation. This time the creeping figure did +not halt.</p> + +<p>Again and again the forked lightning streaked +across the sky, every stroke more vivid than the +one before. The rumble of the distant thunder +deepened to a heavy rolling which dominated the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +dull roar of the breakers. The storm was coming +with the on-rush of a tornado. Yet the leaves +hung motionless in the still air, and there was no +sound other than the thunder and the booming +of the surf.</p> + +<p>The lightning flared, one stroke upon the other, +with a brilliancy that lit up the cave’s interior +brighter than at mid-day.</p> + +<p>In the white glare the girl saw Winthrope, +crouched beneath her upswung door; and his +face was as the face of a beast.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span><a id='link_20'></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE HURRICANE BLAST</span></h2> + +<p>For a moment that seemed a moment of +eternity, she lay on her bed, staring into +the blank darkness. The storm burst +with a crashing uproar that brought her to her +feet, with a shriek. Her giant tree creaked and +strained under the impact of the terrific hurricane +blasts that came howling through the cleft like +a rout of shrieking fiends. The peals of thunder +merged into one continuous roar, beneath which +the solid ledges of rock jarred and quivered. +The sky was a pall of black clouds, meshed +with a dazzling network of forked lightning.</p> + +<p>The girl stood motionless, stunned by the uproar, +appalled by the blinding glare of the thunder-bolts; +yet even more fearful of the figure +which every flash showed her still lurking beneath +the door. A gust-borne bough struck with +numbing force against her upraised arm. But +she took no heed. She was unaware of the swirl +of rain and sticks and leaves that was driving in +through the open entrance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span>On a sudden the door shook free from its props +and whirled violently around on its balance-bar. +There was a shriek that pierced above the shrilling +of the cyclone,–a single human shriek.</p> + +<p>The girl sprang across the cave. The heavy +door swished up before her and down again, its +lower edge all but grazing her face. For a moment +it stopped in a vertical position, and hung +quivering, like a beast about to leap upon its +prey. Too excited to comprehend the danger of +the act, the girl sprang forward and shot one +of the thick bars into its socket.</p> + +<p>A fierce gust leaped against the outer face of +the door and thrust in upon it, striving to burst it +bodily from its bearings. The top and the free +side of the bottom bowed in. But the branches +were still green and tough, the bamboo like +whalebone, and the shrunken creepers held the +frame together as though the joints were lashed +with wire rope. Failing to smash in the elastic +structure, or to snap the crossbar, it were as if +the blast flung itself alternately against the top +and bottom in a fierce attempt to again whirl +the frame about. The white glare streaming in +through the interstices showed the girl her opportunity. +She grasped another bar and shot it into +its socket as the lower part of the door gave back +with the shifting of the pressure to the top. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +was then a simple matter to slide the remaining +bars into the deep-sunk holes. Within half a +minute she had made the door fast, from the +first bar to the sixth.</p> + +<p>A heavy spray was beating in upon her through +the chinks of the framework. She drew back and +sought shelter in a niche at the side. Narrow as +was the slit above the top of the door, it let in a +torrent of water, which spouted clear across and +against the far wall of the cave. It gushed down +upon her bed and was already flooding the cave +floor.</p> + +<p>She piled higher the cocoanuts stored in her +niche, and perched herself upon the heap to keep +above the water. But even in her sheltered corner +the eddying wind showered her with spray. +She waded across for her skin-covered sunshade, +and returned to huddle beneath it, in the still +misery and terror of a hunted animal that has +crept wounded into a hole.</p> + +<p>During the first hurricane there had been companions +to whom she could look for help and +comfort, and she had been to a degree unaware +of the greatness of the danger. But in the few +short weeks since, she had caught more than one +glimpse of Primeval Nature,–she of the bloody +fang, blind, remorseless, insensate, destroying, +ever destroying.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span>True, this was on solid land, while before there +had been the peril of the sea. But now the girl +was alone. Outside the straining walls of her +refuge, the hurricane yelled and shrieked and +roared,–a headless, formless monster, furious to +burst in upon her, to overthrow her stanch old +tree giant, that in his fall his shattered trunk +might crush and mangle her. Or at any instant +a thunder-bolt might rend open the great tower +of living wood, and hurl her blackened body into +the pool on the cave floor.</p> + +<p>Once she fancied that she heard Blake shouting +outside the door; but when she screamed a shrill +response, the blast mocked her with echoing +shrieks, and she dared not venture to free the +door. If it were Blake, he did not shout again. +After a time she began to think that the sound +had been no more than a freak of the shifting +wind. Yet the thought of him out in the full +fury of the cyclone served to turn her thoughts +from her own danger. She prayed aloud for his +safety, beseeching her God that he be spared. +She sought to pray even for Winthrope. But +the vision of that beastly face rose up before her, +and she could not–then.</p> + +<p>Presently she became aware of a change in the +storm. The terrific gusts blew with yet greater violence, +the thunder crashed heavier, the lightning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +filled the air with a flame of dazzling white +light. But the rain no longer gushed across on +the spot where her bed had been. It was entering +at a different angle, and its force was broken +by the bend in the thick wall of the entrance. +After a time the deluge dashed aslant the entrance, +gushing down the door in a cataract of +foam.</p> + +<p>Another interval, and the driving downpour no +longer struck even the edge of the opening. The +wind was veering rapidly as the cyclone centre +moved past on one side. The area of the hurricane +was little more than thrice that of a tornado, +and it was advancing along its course at great +speed. An hour more, and the outermost rim of +the huge whirl was passing over the cleft.</p> + +<p>Quickly the hurricane gusts fell away to a +gale; the gale became a breeze; the breeze lulled +and died away, stifled by the torrential rain.</p> + +<p>Within the baobab all was again dark and silent. +Utterly exhausted, the girl had sunk back +against the friendly wall of the tree, and fallen +asleep.</p> + +<p>She was wakened by a hoarse call: “Miss +Jenny! Miss Jenny, answer me! Are you all +right?”</p> + +<p>She started up, barely saving herself from a +fall as the big unhusked nuts rolled beneath her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +feet. The morning sunlight was streaming in over +her door. She sprang down ankle-deep into the +mire of the cave floor, and ran to loosen the bars. +As the door swung up, she darted out, with a cry +of delight: “You are safe–safe! Oh, I was so +afraid for you! But you’re drenched! You +must build a fire–dry yourself–at once!”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said Blake. “I’ve got to tell you +something.”</p> + +<p>He caught her outstretched hands, and pushed +them down with gentle force. His face was grave, +almost solemn.</p> + +<p>“Think you can stand bad news–a shock?”</p> + +<p>“I– What is it? You look so strange!”</p> + +<p>“It’s about Winthrope,–something very +bad–”</p> + +<p>She turned, with a gasp, and hid her face in +her hands, shuddering with horror and loathing.</p> + +<p>“Oh! oh!” she cried, “I know already–I +know all!”</p> + +<p>“All?” demanded Blake, staring blankly.</p> + +<p>“Yes; all! And–and he made me think it +was you!” She gasped, and fell silent.</p> + +<p>Blake’s face went white. He spoke in a clear, +vibrant voice, tense as an overstrained violin +string: “I am speaking about Winthrope–understand +me?–Winthrope. He has been badly +hurt.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span>“The door swung down and struck him, when +he was creeping in.”</p> + +<p>“God!” roared Blake. “I picked him up +like a sick baby–the beast!–’stead of grinding +my heel in his face! God! I’ll–”</p> + +<p>“Tom! don’t–don’t even speak it! Tom!”</p> + +<p>“God! When a helpless girl–when a –!” +He choked, beside himself with rage.</p> + +<p>She sprang to him, and caught his sleeve in a +convulsive grasp. “Hush, for mercy’s sake! +Tom Blake, remember–you’re a man!”</p> + +<p>He calmed like a ferocious dog at the voice +of its master; but it was several minutes before +he could bring himself to obey her insistent +urging that he should return to the injured +man.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go,” he at last growled. “Wouldn’t do +it even for you, but he’s good as dead–lucky +for him!”</p> + +<p>“Dead!”</p> + +<p>“Dying. . . . . You stay away.”</p> + +<p>He went around the baobab and a few paces +along the cleft to the place where a limp form +lay huddled on the ledges, out of the mud. +Slowly, as though drawn by the fascination of +horror, the girl crept after him. When she saw +the broken, storm-beaten thing that had been +Winthrope, she stopped, and would have turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +back. After all, as Blake had said, he was +dying–</p> + +<p>When she stood at the feet of the writhing +figure, and looked down into the battered face, +it required all her will-power to keep from fainting. +Blake frowned up at her for an instant, but +said nothing.</p> + +<p>Winthrope was speaking, feebly and brokenly, +yet distinctly: “Really, I did not mean any +harm–at first–you know. But a man does +not always have control–”</p> + +<p>“Not a beast like you!” growled Blake.</p> + +<p>“Ow! Don’t ’it me! I say now, I’m done +for! My legs are cold already–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, quick, Mr. Blake! build a fire! It may +be, some hot broth–”</p> + +<p>“Too late,” muttered Blake. “See here, Winthrope, +there’s no use lying about it. You’re going +out mighty soon. See if you can’t die like a man.”</p> + +<p>“Die! . . . Gawd, but I can’t die–I can’t +die–Ow! it burns!”</p> + +<p>He flung up a hand, and sought to tear at his +wounds.</p> + +<p>“Hold hard!” cried Blake, catching the hand +in an iron grip.</p> + +<p>Something in his touch, or the tone of command, +seemed to cower the wretched man into a +state of abject submission.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span>“S’elp me, I’ll confess!–I’ll confess all!” +he babbled. “The stones are sewed in the +stomach pad; I ’ad to take ’em hout of their settings, +and melt up the gold.” He paused, and a +cunning smile stole over his distorted features. +“Ho, wot a bloomin’ lark! Valet plays the gent, +an’ they never ’as a hinkling! Mr. Cecil Winthrope, +hif you please, an’ a ’int of a title–wot +a lark! ’Awkings, me lad, you’re a gay ’oaxer! +Wot a lark! wot a lark!”</p> + +<p>Again there was a pause. The breath of the +wounded man came in labored gasps. There +was an ominous rattling in his throat. Yet once +again he rallied, and this time his eyes turned to +Miss Leslie, bright with an agonized consciousness +of her presence and of all his guilt and +shame.</p> + +<p>His voice shrilled out in quavering appeal: +“Don’t–don’t look at me, miss! I tried to +make myself a gentleman; God knows I tried! +I fought my way up out of the East End–out +of that hell–and none ever lifted finger to help +me. I educated myself like a scholar–then the +stock sharks cheated me of my savings–out of +the last penny; and I had to take service. My +God! a valet–his Grace’s valet, and I a +scholar! Do you wonder the devil got into me? +Do you–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span>Blake’s deep voice, firm but strangely husky, +broke in upon and silenced the cry of agony: +“There, I guess you’ve said enough.”</p> + +<p>“Enough!–and last night–My God! to be +such a beast! The devil tempted me–aye, and +he’s paid me out in my own coin! I’m done for! +God ha’ mercy on me!–God ha’ mercy–”</p> + +<p>Again came the gasping rattle; this time there +was no rally.</p> + +<p>Blake thrust himself between Miss Leslie and +the crumpled figure.</p> + +<p>“Get back around the tree,” he said harshly.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“That’s my business,” he replied. He thrust +his burning-glass into her hand. “Here; go +and build a fire, if you can find any dry stuff.”</p> + +<p>“You’re not going to– You’ll bury him!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Whatever he may have been, he’s dead +now, poor devil!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t go,” she half whispered, “not until–until +I’ve learned– Do you–can you tell me +just what is paranoia?”</p> + +<p>Blake studied a little, and tapped the top of +his head.</p> + +<p>“Near as I can say, it’s softening of the brain.–up there.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think that–” she hesitated–“that +he had it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span>Again Blake paused to consider.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m no alienist. I thought him a softy +from the first. But that was all in line with what +he was playing on us–British dude. Fooled +me, and I’d been chumming with Jimmy Scarbridge,–and +Jimmy was the straight goods, +fresh imported–monocle even–when I first +ran up against him. No; this–this Hawkins, +if that’s his name, had brains all right. Still, +he may have been cracked. When folks go +dotty, they sometimes get extra ’cute. The best +I can think of him is that losing his savings may +have made him slip a cog, and then the scare +over the way we landed here and his spells of +fever probably hurried up the softening.”</p> + +<p>“Then you believe his story?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do. But if you’ll go, please.”</p> + +<p>“One thing more–I must know now! Do +you remember the day when you set up the +signal, and you–you quarrelled with him?”</p> + +<p>Blake reddened, and dropped his gaze. “Did +he go and tell you that? The sneak!”</p> + +<p>“If you please, let us say nothing more about +him. But would you care to tell me what you +meant–what you said then?”</p> + +<p>Blake’s flush deepened; but he raised his head, +and faced her squarely as he answered: “No; +I’m not going to repeat any dead man’s talk; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +and as for what I said, this isn’t the time or +place to say anything in that line–now that +we’re alone. Understand?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I do not, Mr. Blake. Please +explain.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t ask me, Miss Jenny. I can’t tell you +now. You’ll have to wait till we get aboard +ship. We’ll catch a steamer before long. ’T isn’t +every one of them that goes ashore in these +blows.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you build that door? Did you +suspect–” She glanced down at the huddled +figure between them.</p> + +<p>Blake frowned and hesitated; then burst out +almost angrily: “Well, you know now he was a +sneak; so it’s not blabbing to tell that much–I +knew he was before; and it’s never safe to trust +a sneak.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you!” she said, and she turned away +quickly that she might not again look at the +prostrate figure.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span><a id='link_21'></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span class='h2fs'>WRECKAGE AND SALVAGE</span></h2> + +<p>All the wood in the cleft was sodden from +the fierce downpour that had accompanied +the cyclone; all the cleft bottom +other than the bare ledges was a bed of mud; +everything without the tree-cave had been either +blown away or heaped with broken boughs and +mud-spattered rubbish. But the girl had far too +much to think about to feel any concern over the +mere damage and destruction of things. It was +rather a relief to find something that called for +work.</p> + +<p>Not being able to find dry fuel, she gathered a +quantity of the least sodden of the twigs and +branches, and spread them out on a ledge in the +clear sunshine. While her firewood was drying, +she scraped away the mud and litter heaped upon +her rude hearth. She then began a search for +lost articles. When she dug out the pottery ware, +she found her favorite stew-pot and one of the +platters in fragments. The drying-frames for +the meat had been blown away, and so had the +antelope and hyena skins.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span>Catching sight of a bit of white down among +the bamboos, she went to it, and was not a little +surprised to see the tattered remnant of her duck +skirt. It had evidently been torn from the signal +staff by the first gust of the cyclone, whirled +down into the cleft by some flaw or eddy in the +wind, and wadded so tightly into the heart of the +thick clump of stems that all the fury of the storm +had failed to dislodge it. Its recovery seemed to +the girl a special providence; for of course they +must keep up a signal on the cliff.</p> + +<p>Having started her fire and set on a stew, she +hunted out her sewing materials from their crevice +in the cave, and began mending the slits in +the torn flag. While she worked she sat on a +shaded ledge, her bare feet toasting in the sun, +and her soggy, mud-smeared moccasins drying +within reach. When Blake appeared, the moccasins +were still where she had first set them; +but the little pink feet were safely tucked up beneath +the tattered flag. Fortunately, the sight of +the white cloth prevented Blake from noticing +the moccasins.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he exclaimed. “What’s that?–the +flag? Say, that’s luck! I’ll break out a bamboo +right off. Old staff’s carried clean away.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake,–just a moment, please. What +have you done with–with it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span>Blake jerked his thumb upward.</p> + +<p>“You have carried him up on the cliff?”</p> + +<p>“Best place I could think of. No animals–and +I piled stones over.... But, I say, look +here.”</p> + +<p>He drew out a piece of wadded cloth, marked +off into little squares by crossing lines of stitches. +One of the squares near the edge had been ripped +open. Blake thrust in his finger, and worked out +an emerald the size of a large pea.</p> + +<p>“O-h-h!” cried Miss Leslie, as he held the +glittering gem out to her in his rough palm.</p> + +<p>He drew it back, and carefully thrust it again +into its pocket.</p> + +<p>“That’s one,” he said. “There’s another in +every square of this innocent, harmless rag–dozens +of them. He must have made a clean +sweep of the duke’s–or, more like, the duchess’s +jewels. Now, if you please, I want you to sew +this up tight again, and–”</p> + +<p>“I cannot–I cannot touch it!” she cried.</p> + +<p>“Say, I didn’t mean to– It was confounded +stupid of me,” mumbled Blake. “Won’t you +excuse me?”</p> + +<p>“Of course! It was only the–the thought +that–”</p> + +<p>“No wonder. I always am a fool when it +comes to ladies. I’ll fix the thing all right.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span>Catching up the nearest small pot, he crammed +the quilted cloth down within it, and filled it to +the brim with sticky mud.</p> + +<p>“There! Guess nobody’s going to run off +with a jug of mud–and it won’t hurt the stones +till we get a chance to look up the owner. He +won’t be hard to find–English duke minus a +pint of first-class sparklers! Will you mind its +setting in the cave after things are fixed up?”</p> + +<p>“No; not as it is.”</p> + +<p>He nodded soberly. “All right, then. Now +I’ll go for the new flag-staff. You might set out +breakfast.”</p> + +<p>She nodded in turn, and when he came back +from the bamboos with the largest of the great +canes on his shoulder, his breakfast was waiting +for him. She set it before him, and turned to go +again to her sewing.</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” he said. “This won’t do. You’ve +got to eat your share.”</p> + +<p>“I do not–I am not hungry.”</p> + +<p>“That’s no matter. Here!”</p> + +<p>He forced upon her a bowl of hot broth, and +she drank it because she could not resist his +rough kindness.</p> + +<p>“Good! Now a piece of meat,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Please, Mr. Blake!” she protested.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you must!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span>She took a bite, and sought to eat; but there +was such a lump in her throat that she could not +swallow. The tears gushed into her eyes, and +she began to weep.</p> + +<p>Blake’s close-set lips relaxed, and he nodded.</p> + +<p>“That’s it; let it run out. You’re overwrought. +There’s nothing like a good cry to +ease off a woman’s nerves–and I guess ladies +aren’t much different from women when it comes +to such things.”</p> + +<p>“But I–I want to get the flag mended!” she +sobbed.</p> + +<p>“All right, all right; plenty of time!” he +soothed. “I’m going to see how things look +down the cleft.”</p> + +<p>He bolted the last of his meat, and at once +left her alone to cry herself back to calmness +over the stitching of the signal.</p> + +<p>His first concern was for the barricade. As he +had feared, he found that it had been blown to +pieces. The greater part of the thorn branches +which he had gathered with so much labor were +scattered to the four corners of the earth. He +stood staring at the wreckage in glum silence; +but he did not swear, as he would have done the +week before. Presently his face cleared, and he +began to whistle in a plaintive minor key. He +was thinking of how she had looked when she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> +darted out of the tree at his call–of her concern +for him. When he was so angered at Winthrope, +she had called him Tom!</p> + +<p>After a time he started on, picking his way +over the remnant of the barricade, without a +falter in his whistling. The deluge of rain had +poured down the cleft in a torrent, tearing away +the root-matted soil and laying bare the ledges in +the channel of the spring rill. But aside from an +occasional boggy hole, the water had drained away.</p> + +<p>At the foot, about the swollen pool, was a wide +stretch of rubbish and mud. He worked his way +around the edge, and came out on the plain, +where the sandy soil was all the firmer for its +drenching. He swung away at a lively clip. +The air was fresh and pure after the storm, and +a slight breeze tempered the sun-rays.</p> + +<p>He kept on along the cliff until he turned the +point. It was not altogether advisable to bathe +at this time of day; but he had been caught out +by the cyclone in a corner of the swamp, across +the river, where the soil was of clay. Only his +anxiety for Miss Leslie had enabled him to fight +his way out of the all but impassable morass +which the storm deluge had made of the half-dry +swamp. At dawn he had reached the river, and +swam across, reckless of the crocodiles. The +turbid water of the stream had rid him of only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +part of his accumulated slime and ooze. So now +he washed out his tattered garments as well as +he could without soap, and while they were drying +on the sun-scorched rocks, swam about in +the clear, tonic sea-water, quite as reckless of the +sharks as he had been of the ugly crocodiles in +the river.</p> + +<p>For all this, he was back at the baobab before +Miss Leslie had stitched up the last slit in the +torn flag.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, with a brave attempt at +a smile.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I’m not much of a needle-woman,” +she sighed. “Look at those stitches!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t fret. They’ll hold all right, and +that’s what we want,” he reassured her. “Give +it me, now. I’ve got to get it up, and hurry +back for a nap. No sleep last night–I was out +beyond the river, in the swamp–and to-night I’ll +have to go on watch. The barricade is down.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that is too bad! Couldn’t I take a turn +on watch?”</p> + +<p>Blake shook his head. “No; I’ll sleep to-day, +and work rebuilding the barricade to-night. +Toward morning I might build up the fire, and +take a nap.”</p> + +<p>He caught up the flag and its new staff, and +swung away through the cleft.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span>He returned much sooner than Miss Leslie expected, +and at once began to throw up a small +lean-to of bamboos over a ledge at the cliff foot, +behind the baobab. The girl thought he was +making himself a hut, in place of the canopy +under which he had slept before the storm, which, +like Winthrope’s, had been carried away. But +when he stopped work, he laconically informed +her that all she had to do to complete her new +house was to dry some leaves.</p> + +<p>“But I thought it was for yourself!” she protested. +“I will sleep inside the tree.”</p> + +<p>“Doc Blake says no!” he rejoined–“not till +it’s dried out.”</p> + +<p>She glanced at his face, and replied, without +a moment’s hesitancy: “Very well. I will do +what you think best.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” he said, and went at once to +lie down for his much needed sleep.</p> + +<p>He awoke just soon enough before dark to +see the results of her hard day’s labor. All the +provisions stored in the tree had been brought +out to dry, and a great stack of fuel, ready for +burning, was piled up against the baobab; while +all about the tree the rubbish had been neatly +gathered together in heaps. Blake looked his admiration +for her industry. But then his forehead +wrinkled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span>“You oughtn’t to’ve done so much,” he admonished.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you I can tote fair!” she rejoined. +During the afternoon she had called to mind that +odd expression of a Southern girl chum, and +had been waiting her opportunity to banter him +with it.</p> + +<p>He stared at her open-eyed, and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Say, Miss Jenny, you’d better look out. +You’ll be speaking American, first thing!”</p> + +<p>Thereupon, they fell to chattering like children +out of school, each happy to be able to forget for +the moment that broken figure up on the cliff top +and the haunting fear of what another day might +bring to them.</p> + +<p>When they had eaten their meal, both with keen +appetites, Blake sprang up, with a curt “Good-night!” +and swung off down the cleft. The girl +looked after him, with a lingering smile.</p> + +<p>“I wish he hadn’t rushed off so suddenly,” +she murmured. “I was just going to thank him +for–for everything!”</p> + +<p>The color swept over her face in a deep blush, +and she darted around to her tiny hut as though +some one might have overheard her whisper.</p> + +<p>Yet, after all, she had said nothing; or, at +least, she had merely said “everything.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span><a id='link_22'></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><span class='h2fs'>UNDERSTANDING AND MISUNDERSTANDING</span></h2> + +<p>In the morning she found Blake scraping +energetically at the inner surfaces of a pair +of raw hyena skins.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve killed more game!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Game? No; hyenas. I hated to waste +good poison on the brutes; but nothing else +showed up, and I need a new pair of pa–er–trousers.”</p> + +<p>“Was it not dangerous–great beasts like +these!”</p> + +<p>“Not even enough to make it interesting. I’d +have had some fun, though, with that confounded +lion when the moon came up, if he hadn’t +sneaked off into the grass.”</p> + +<p>“A lion?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Didn’t you hear him? The skulking +brute prowled around for hours before the +moon rose, when it was pitch dark. It was +mighty lonesome, with him yowling down by +the pool. Half a chance, and I’d given him +something to yowl about. But it wasn’t any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +use firing off my arrows in the dark, and, as I +said, he sneaked off before–”</p> + +<p>“Tom–Mr. Blake!–you must not risk your +life!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve learned how +to look out for Tom Blake. And you can just +bank on it I’m going to look out for Miss Jenny +Leslie, too! . . . . But say, after breakfast, suppose +we take a run out on the cliffs for eggs?”</p> + +<p>“I do not wish any to-day, thank you.”</p> + +<p>He waited a little, studying her down-bent +face.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he muttered; “you don’t have to +come. I know I oughtn’t to take a moment’s +time. I did quite a bit last night; but if you +think–”</p> + +<p>She glanced up, puzzled. His meaning flashed +upon her, and she rose.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not that! I will come,” she answered, +and hastened to prepare the morning meal.</p> + +<p>When they came to the tree-ladder, she found +that the heap of stones built up by Blake to +facilitate the first part of the ascent was now +so high that she could climb into the branches +without difficulty. She surmised that Blake had +found it necessary to build up the pile before he +could ascend with his burden.</p> + +<p>They were at the foot of the heap, when, with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +a sharp exclamation, Blake sprang up into the +branches, and scrambled to the top in hot haste. +Wondering what this might mean, Miss Leslie +followed as fast as she could. When she reached +the top, she saw him running across towards an +out-jutting point on the north edge of the cliff.</p> + +<p>She had hurried after him for more than half +the distance before she perceived the vultures +that were gathered in a solemn circle about a +long and narrow heap of stones, on a ledge, down +on the sloping brink of the cliff. While at the +foot of the tree Blake had seen one of the grewsome +flock descending to join the others, and, +fearful of what might be happening, had rushed +on ahead.</p> + +<p>At his approach, the croaking watchers hopped +awkwardly from the ledges, and soared away; +only to wheel, and circle back overhead. Miss +Leslie shrank down, shuddering. Blake came +back near her, and began to gather up the pieces +of loose rock which were strewn about beneath +the ledges on that part of the cliff.</p> + +<p>“I know I piled up enough,” he explained, in +response to her look. “All the same, a few +more will do no harm.”</p> + +<p>“Then you are sure those awful birds have +not–”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I’m sure.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span>He carried an armful of rocks to lay on the +mound. When he began to gather more, she +followed his example. They worked in silence, +piling the rough stones gently one upon another, +until the cairn had grown to twice its former size. +The air on the open cliff top was fresher than in +the cleft, and Miss Leslie gave little heed to the +absence of shade. She would have worked on +under the burning sun without thought of consequences. +But Blake knew the need of moderation.</p> + +<p>“There; that’ll do,” he said. “He may have +been–all he was; but we’ve no more than +done our duty. Now, we’ll stroll out on the +point.”</p> + +<p>“I should prefer to return.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt. But it’s time you learned how to +go nesting. What if you should be left alone +here? Besides, it looks to me like the signal is +tearing loose.”</p> + +<p>She accompanied him out along the cliff crest +until they stood in the midst of the bird colony, +half deafened by their harsh clamor. She had +never ventured into their concourse when alone. +Even now she cried out, and would have retreated +before the sharp bills and beating wings +had not Blake walked ahead and kicked the +squawking birds out of the path. Having made +certain that the big white flag was still secure on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +its staff, he led the way along the seaward brink +of the cliff, pointing out the different kinds of +seafowl, and shouting information about such of +their habits and qualities as were of concern to +hungry castaways.</p> + +<p>He concluded the lesson by descending a dizzy +flight of ledges to rob the nest of a frigate bird. +It was a foolhardy feat at best, and doubly so in +view of the thousands of eggs lying all around +in the hollows of the cliff top. But from these +Blake had recently culled out all the fresh settings +of the frigate birds, and none of the other +eggs equalled them in delicacy of flavor.</p> + +<p>“How’s that?” he demanded, as he drew +himself up over the edge of the cliff, and handed +the big chalky-white egg into her keeping.</p> + +<p>“I would rather go without than see you take +such risks,” she replied coldly.</p> + +<p>“You would, eh!” he cried, quite misunderstanding +her, and angered by what seemed to him +a gratuitous rebuff. “Well, I’d rather you’d +say nothing than speak in that tone. If you +don’t want the egg heave it over.”</p> + +<p>Unable to conceive any cause for his sudden +anger, she was alarmed, and drew back, watching +him with sidelong glances.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Think +I’m going to bite you?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span>She shrank farther away, and did not answer. +He stared at her, his eyes hard and bright. Suddenly +he burst into a harsh laugh, and strode +away towards the cliff, savagely kicking aside +the birds that came in his path.</p> + +<p>When, an hour later, the girl crept back along +the cleft to the baobab, she saw him hard at work +building a little hut, several yards down towards +the barricade. The moment she perceived what +he was about her bearing became less guarded, +and she took up her own work with a spirit and +energy which she had not shown since the adventure +with the puff adder.</p> + +<p>At her call to the noon meal, Blake took his +time to respond, and when he at last came to +join her, he was morose and taciturn. She met +him with a smile, and exerted all her womanly +tact to conciliate him.</p> + +<p>“You must help me eat the egg,” she said. +“I’ve boiled it hard.”</p> + +<p>“Rather eat beef,” he mumbled.</p> + +<p>“But just to please me–when I’ve cooked +it your way!”</p> + +<p>He uttered an inarticulate sound which she +chose to interpret as assent. The egg was already +shelled. She cut it exactly in half, and +served one of the pieces to him with a bit of +warm fat and a pinch of salt. As he took the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +dish, he raised his sullen eyes to her face. She +met his gaze with a look of smiling insistence.</p> + +<p>“Come now,” she said; “please don’t refuse. +I’m sorry I was so rude.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you feel that way about it!–not that +I care for fancy dishes,” he responded gruffly.</p> + +<p>“It would be missing half the enjoyment to +eat such a delicacy without some one to share +it,” she said.</p> + +<p>Blake looked away without answer. But she +could see that his face was beginning to clear. +Greatly encouraged, she chatted away as though +they were seated at her father’s dinner-table, and +he was an elderly friend from the business world +whom it was her duty to entertain.</p> + +<p>For a while Blake betrayed little interest, +confining himself to monosyllables except when +he commented on the care with which she had +cooked the various dishes. When she least expected, +he looked up at her, his lips parted in a +broad smile. She stopped short, for she had been +describing her first social triumphs, and his untimely +levity embarrassed her.</p> + +<p>“Don’t get mad, Miss Jenny,” he said, his eyes +twinkling. “You don’t know how funny it +seems to sit here and listen to you talking about +those things. It’s like serving up ice cream and +onions in the same dish.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span>“I’m sure, Mr. Blake–”</p> + +<p>“Beats a burlesque all hollow–Mrs. Sint-Regis-Waldoff’s +chop-sooey tea and young Mrs. +Vandam-Jones’s auto-cotillon–with us sitting +here like troglodytes, chewing snake-poisoned +antelope, and you in that Kundry dress–”</p> + +<p>“Do you–I was not aware that you knew +about music.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know a note. But give me a chance +to hear good music, and I’m there, if I have to +stand in the peanut gallery.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad! I’m very, very fond of +music! Have you been to Bayreuth?”</p> + +<p>“Where’s that?”</p> + +<p>“In Germany. It is where his operas are +given as staged by Wagner himself. It is indescribably +grand and inspiring–above all, the +Parsifal!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll most certainly take that in, even if I have +to cut short my engagement in this gee-lorious +clime–not but what, when it comes to leopard +ladies–” He paused, and surveyed her with +frank admiration.</p> + +<p>The blood leaped into her face.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she gasped, “I never dreamed that +even such a man as you would compare me with–with a creature like that!”</p> + +<p>“Such a man as me!” repeated Blake, staring. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +“What do you mean? I know I’m not much +of a ladies’ man; but to be yanked up like this +when a fellow is trying to pay a compliment–well, +it’s not just what you’d call pleasant.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Mr. Blake. I misunderstood. +I–”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Miss Jenny! I don’t ask +any lady to beg my pardon. The only thing +is I don’t see why you should flare out at me +that way.”</p> + +<p>For a full minute she sat, with down-bent head, +her face clouded with doubt and indecision. At +last she bravely raised her eyes to meet his.</p> + +<p>“Do you wonder that I am not quite myself?” +she asked. “You should remember that I have +always had the utmost comforts of life, and have +been cared for– Don’t you see how terrible it is +for me? And then the death of–of–”</p> + +<p>“I can’t be sorry for that!”</p> + +<p>“But even you felt how terrible it was . . . . +and then–Oh, surely, you must see how–how +embarrassing–”</p> + +<p>It was Blake’s turn to look down and hesitate. +She studied his face, her bosom heaving with +quick-drawn breath; but she could make nothing +of his square jaw and firm-set lips. His eyes +were concealed by the brim of his leaf hat. +When he spoke, seemingly it was to change the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +subject: “Guess you saw me making my hut. +I’m fixing it so it’ll do me even when it rains.”</p> + +<p>Had he been the kind of man that she had +been educated to consider as alone entitled to the +name of gentleman, she could have felt certain +that he had intended the remark for a delicately +worded assurance. But was Tom Blake, for all +his blunt kindliness, capable of such tact? She +chose to consider that he was.</p> + +<p>“It’s a cunning little bungalow. But will not +the rain flood you out?”</p> + +<p>“It’s going to have a raised floor. You’re +more like to have the rain drive in on you again. +I’ll have to rig up a porch over your door. It +won’t do to stuff up the hole. You’ve little +enough air as it is. But that can wait a while. +There’s other work more pressing. First, there’s +the barricade. By the time that’s done, those +hyena skins will be cured enough to use. I’ve +got to have new trousers soon, and new shoes, +too.”</p> + +<p>“I can do the sewing, if you will cut out the +pattern.”</p> + +<p>“No; I’ll take a stagger at it myself first. +I’d rather you’d go egging. You need to run +around more, to keep in trim.”</p> + +<p>“I feel quite well now, and I am growing so +strong! The only thing is this constant heat.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span>“We’ll have to grin and bear it. After all, +it’s not so bad, if only we can stave off the fever. +Another reason I want you to go for eggs is that +you can take your time about it, and keep a +look-out for steamers.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think –?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t screw up your hopes too high. We’ve +little show of being picked up by a chance boat +on a coast with reefs like this. But I figure that if +I was in your daddy’s shoes, it’d be high time for +me to be cabling a ship to run up from Natal, or +down from Zanzibar, to look around for jettison, +et cetera.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure papa will offer a big reward.”</p> + +<p>“Second the motion! I’ve a sort of idea I +wouldn’t mind coming in for a reward myself.”</p> + +<p>“You? Oh, yes; to be sure. Papa is generous, +and he will be grateful to any one who–”</p> + +<p>“You think I mean his dirty money!” broke +in Blake, hotly.</p> + +<p>Her confusion told him that he had not been +mistaken. His face, only a moment since bright +and pleasant, took on its sullenest frown.</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie rose hurriedly, and started along +the cleft.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he called. “Not going for eggs now, +are you?”</p> + +<p>She did not reply.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span>“Hang it all, Miss Jenny! Don’t go off like +that.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask you to excuse me, Mr. Blake? Is +that sufficient?”</p> + +<p>“Sufficient? It’s enough to give a fellow a +chill! Come now; don’t go off mad. You know +I’ve a quick temper. Can’t you make allowances?”</p> + +<p>“You’ve–you’ve no right to look so angry, +even if I did misunderstand you. You misunderstood +me!” She caught herself up with a half +sob. His silence gave her time to recover her +composure. She continued with excessive politeness, +“Need I repeat my request to be excused, +Mr. Blake?”</p> + +<p>“No; once is enough! But honest now, I +didn’t mean to be nasty.”</p> + +<p>“Good-day, Mr. Blake.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, da-darn it, good-day!” he groaned.</p> + +<p>When, a few minutes later, she returned, he +was gone. He did not come back until some +time after dark, when she had withdrawn to her +lean-to for the night. His hands were bleeding +from thorn scratches; but after a hasty supper, +he went back down the cleft to build up the new +wall of the barricade with the great stack of fresh +thorn-brush that he had gathered during the +afternoon.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span><a id='link_23'></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE END OF THE WORLD</span></h2> + +<p>In the morning he met Miss Leslie with a sullen +bearing, which, however, did not altogether +conceal his desire to be on friendly terms. +Having regained her self-control, she responded +to this with such tact that by evening each felt +more at ease in the new relationship, and Blake +had lost every trace of his moroseness. The fact +that both were passionately fond of music proved +an immense help. It gave them an impersonal +source of mutual sympathy and understanding,–a +common meeting-ground in the world of art and +culture, apart from and above the plane of their +material wants.</p> + +<p>Yet for all his enjoyment of the girl’s wide +knowledge of everything relating to music, Blake +took care that their talks and discussions did not +interfere with the activities of their primitive mode +of life. As soon as he had finished with the barricade, +he devoted himself to his tailoring and +shoe-making; while Miss Leslie, between her +cooking and wood-gathering and daily visits to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +the cliff for eggs, had much to occupy both her +thoughts and her hands.</p> + +<p>At first every ascent of the cliff was embittered +by a painful consciousness of the cairn upon the +north edge. Fortunately it was not in sight from +the direct path to the headland, and, as she refrained +from visiting it, the new happenings of +her wild life soon thrust Winthrope and his death +out of the foreground of her thoughts. Each day +she had to nerve herself to meet the beaks and +wings of the despoiled nest-owners; each day she +looked with greater hope for the expected rescue +ship, only to be increasingly disappointed.</p> + +<p>But the hours she spent on the cliff crest after +gathering the day’s supply of eggs were not spent +merely in watching and longing. The inconvenience +of carrying the eggs in a handkerchief or in +one of the heavy jars suggested a renewal of her +attempt at basket-making. Memory, perseverance, +and a trace of inventiveness enabled her to produce +a small but serviceable hamper of split +bamboo.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by this success she gathered a +quantity of tough, wiry grass, and wove a hat to +take the place of the flimsy palm-leaf makeshift. +The result was by no means satisfactory with +regard to style, its shape being intermediate between +a Mexican sombrero and a funnel; but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +aside from its appearance, she could not have +wished for a more comfortable head-cover. Before +showing it to Blake, she wove a second one for +him, so that they were able to cast aside the grotesque, +palm-leaf affairs at the same time.</p> + +<p>The following morning Blake appeared in an +outfit to match her leopard-skin dress. He had +singed off the hair of the hide out of which he +had made his moccasins, and his hyena-skin +trousers quite matched the bristling stubble on +his face.</p> + +<p>“Hey, Miss Jenny!” he hailed; “what d’ +you think of this for fancy needlework?”</p> + +<p>“Splendid! You’re the very picture of an +Argentine vaquero.”</p> + +<p>“Greaser?–ugh! Let me get back to the +Weary Willy pants!”</p> + +<p>“I mean you are very picturesque.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it, is it? Glad I’ve got something to +call your leopardine gown that won’t make you +huffy.”</p> + +<p>“We can at least call our costumes serviceable, +and mine has proved much cooler than I expected.”</p> + +<p>“But our new hats beat all for that–regular +sunshades. What do you say?–there’s a good +breeze– Let’s take a hike.”</p> + +<p>“Not to the river! The very thought of that +dreadful snake–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span>“No; just the other way. I’ve been thinking +for some time that we ought to run down to that +south headland, and take a squint at the coast +beyond. Ten to one, it’s another stretch of +swamps, but–”</p> + +<p>“You think there is a chance we may find a +town?”</p> + +<p>“About one chance in a million, even for a +native village. The slave trade wiped the niggers +off this coast, and I guess those that hit out upcountry +ran so hard they haven’t been able to +get back yet.”</p> + +<p>“But it has been years since the slave trade +was forbidden.”</p> + +<p>“And they don’t sell beer in Kansas–oh, no! +I’ll bet the dhows still slip over from Madagascar +when the moon is in the right quarter. At any +rate, niggers are mighty scarce or mighty shy +around here. I’ve kept a watch for smoke, and +haven’t seen a suspicion of it anywhere. Maybe +the swamps swing around inland and cut off this +strip of coast. It looked that way to me when I +made that trip along the ridge. But there’s a +chance it used to be inhabited, and we may run +across an abandoned village.”</p> + +<p>“I do not see that the discovery would do us +any good.”</p> + +<p>“How about the chance of grain or bananas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +still growing? But that’s all a guess. We’re +going because we need a change.”</p> + +<p>She nodded, and hastened to prepare breakfast, +while he packed a skin bag with food, and examined +the slender tips of his arrows. As a +matter of precaution, he had been keeping them +in the cigarette case, where the points would be +certain of a coat of the sticky poison and at the +same time guarded against inflicting a chance +wound. But as he was now about to set out on +a journey, he fitted tips into the heads of his two +straightest shafts.</p> + +<p>The morning was still fresh when they closed +the barricade behind them and descended to +the pool. There was no game in sight, but +Blake had no wish to hunt at the commencement +of the trip. The steady southwest wind +had blown the sky clear of its malarial haze, +and gave promise of a day which should know +nothing of sultry calm–a day on which game +would be hard to stalk, but one perfectly suited +for a long tramp.</p> + +<p>Mindful of ticks, Blake headed obliquely across +to the beach. Once on the smooth, hard sand, +they swung along at a brisk pace, light-hearted +and keen with the spirit of adventure. Never +had they felt more companionable. Miss Leslie +laughed and chatted and sang snatches of songs, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +while Blake beat time with his club, or sought to +whistle grand opera–he had healed his blistered +lips some time before by liberal applications +of antelope tallow.</p> + +<p>Gulls and terns circled about them, or hovered +over the water, ready to swoop down upon their +finny prey. Sandpipers ran along the beach +within a stone’s throw, but the curlews showed +their greater knowledge of mankind by keeping +beyond gunshot.</p> + +<p>Once a great flock of geese drove high overhead, +their leader honking the alarm as they +swept above the suspicious figures on the beach. +Like the curlews, they had knowledge of mankind. +But the flock of white pelicans which came +sailing along in stately leisure on their immense +wings floated past so low that Blake felt certain +he could shoot one. He raised his bow and +took aim, but refrained from shooting, at the +thought that it might be a sheer waste of his +precious poison.</p> + +<p>A little later a herd of large animals appeared +on the border of the grass jungle, but wheeled +and dashed back into cover so quickly that Blake +barely had time to make out that they were buffaloes–the +first he had seen on this coast, but +easily recognized by their resemblance to the +Cape variety. Their flight gave him small +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +concern; for the time being he was more interested +in topography than game.</p> + +<p>The southern headland now lay close before +them, its seaward face rearing up sheer and lofty, +but the approach behind running down in broken +terraces. Mid-morning found the explorers at +the foot of the ridge. Blake squinted up at the +boulder-strewn slopes and the crannies of the +broken ledges.</p> + +<p>“Likely place for snakes, Miss Jenny,” he +remarked. “Guess I’d better lead.”</p> + +<p>Eager as she was to look over into the country +beyond, the girl dropped into second place, and +made no complaint about the wary slowness of +her companion’s advance. She found the most +difficult parts of the ascent quite easy after her +training on the tree-ladder. Blake could have +taken ledges and all at a run, but as he mounted +each terrace, he halted to spy out the ground +before him. Like Miss Leslie, he was looking for +snakes, though for an exactly opposite reason. +He wished to add to the contents of the cigarette +case.</p> + +<p>Greatly to his disappointment and the girl’s relief, +neither snake nor sign of snake was to be seen +all the way up the ridge. As they neared the +crest Blake turned to offer her his hand up the +last ledges, and in the instant they gained the top.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span>The wind, now freshening to a gale, struck the +girl with such force that she would have been +blown back down the ledges had not Blake +clutched her wrist. Heedless alike of the painful +grip which held her and of the gusts which tore +at her skirt, the girl stood gazing out across the +desolate swamps which stretched away to the +southwest as far as the eye could see. She did +not speak until Blake led her down behind the +shelter of the crest ledges.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Didn’t +I warn you?”</p> + +<p>She looked away to hide the tears which sprang +into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“I can’t explain–only, it makes me feel so–so +lonely!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now, little woman; don’t take on +so!” he urged. “It might be a lot worse, you +know. We’ve gotten along pretty well, considering.”</p> + +<p>“You have been very kind, Mr. Blake, and as +you say, matters might have been worse. I do +not forget how far more terrible was our situation +the morning after the storm. Yet you must +realize how disappointing it is to lose even the +slightest hope of escape.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know. If it wasn’t for the +fever that’s bound to come with the rains, I, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +one, would just as leave stick to this camp right +along, providing the company don’t change.”</p> + +<p>She turned upon him with flashing eyes, all +thought of caution lost in her anger. “How +dare you say such a thing? You are contemptible! +I despise you!”</p> + +<p>“My, Miss Jenny, but you are pretty when +you get mad!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>The answer took her completely aback. He +was neither angry nor laughing at her, but met +her defiant glance with candid, sober admiration. +There was something more than admiration in +his glowing eyes; yet she could not but see that +her alarm had been baseless. His manner had +never been more respectful. Suddenly she found +that she could no longer meet his gaze. She +looked away and stammered lamely, “You–you +shouldn’t say such things, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Hasn’t everything been running +smooth the last few days? Haven’t we been +good chummy comrades? Of course you’ve got +the worst of the deal. I know I’m not much on +fancy talk; but I like to hear it when I’ve a +chance. I’ve led a lonesome sort of life since +they did for my sisters– No; I’m not going +to rake that up again. I’m only trying to give +you an idea what it means to a fellow to be with +a lady like you. May be it isn’t polite to tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +you all this, but it’s just what I feel, and I never +did amount to shucks as a liar.”</p> + +<p>“I believe I understand you, Mr. Blake, and I +really feel highly complimented.”</p> + +<p>“No, you don’t, any such thing, Miss Jenny. +Own up, now! If I met you to-morrow on your +papa’s doorstep, you’d cut me cold.”</p> + +<p>“I should if you continued to be so rude. +Have you no regard for my feelings? But here +we are, talking nonsense, when we should be +going–”</p> + +<p>“Is it nonsense?” he broke in. “What does +life mean, anyway? Here we can be true +friends and comrades,–real, free living people. +It can’t be that you want to go back to all those +society shams, after you’ve seen real life! As +for me, what have I to gain by going back to +the everlasting grind? I don’t mind work; but +when a man has nothing ahead to work for but a +bank account, when it’s grind, grind, grind till +your head goes stale and all the world looks +black, then there’s no choice but throw up your +job and go on a drunk, if you want to keep from +a gun accident. Maybe you don’t understand it. +But that’s what I’ve had to go through, time +and again. Do you wonder I like to fancy an +everlasting picnic here, with a little partner who +wouldn’t let me come within shouting distance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +of her in the land of lavender–trousers and +peek-a-boos?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blake, really you are most unjust! I +could not be so–so ungrateful, after all your +kindness. I–we should certainly be glad to +number you among our friends.”</p> + +<p>“Drink and all, eh?”</p> + +<p>“A man of your will-power has no need +whatever to give way to such a habit.”</p> + +<p>“Course not, if he’s got anything in sight +worth while. Guess, though, my folks must +have been poor white trash. I never could go +after money just for the fun of the game. No +family, no friends, no–what-you -call-it?–culture– +What’s the use? I have a fair +head for figures; but all the mathematics that +I know I’ve had to catch hot off the bat. It’s +true I grubbed my C. E. out of a correspondence +school; but a fellow has to have an all-round, +crack-up education to put him where it’s +worth while.”</p> + +<p>“You still have time to work up. You are +not much over thirty.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty-seven.”</p> + +<p>“Twenty-seven! I should have thought– What +a hard life you must have had!”</p> + +<p>“Hard work? Well, I suppose Panama did do +for me some. But it wasn’t so much that. Few +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +fellows could hit up the pace I’ve set and come +out at all.”</p> + +<p>“I do not understand.”</p> + +<p>“Just what you might expect of a fellow in +my fix–all kinds of gamble and drink and–the +rest of it.”</p> + +<p>Miss Leslie looked away, visibly distressed. +She had not been reared after the French method. +Young as she was, she had fluttered at will about +the borders of the garden of vice, knowing well +that the gaudy blossoms were lures to entice one +into the pitfall. Yet never before had she caught +so clear a glimpse of the slimy depths.</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” growled Blake. “Throw me +down cold, just because I’m square enough to +tell you straight out. You make me tired! I’m +not one of the work-ox sort, that can chew the cud +all the year round, and cork the blood out of +their brains. I’ve got to cut loose from the +infernal grind once in a while, and barring a +chance now and then at opera, there’s never +been anything but a spree–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but that’s so dreadfully shocking, Mr. +Blake!”</p> + +<p>“And then like all the other little hypocrites, +you’ll go and marry one of those swell +dudes who’s made that sort of thing his business, +and everybody knows it, but it’s all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +politely understood to’ve been done sub rosa, +so it’s all right, because he knows how to part +his name in the middle and–”</p> + +<p>“Please, please stop, Mr. Blake! You don’t +know how cruel you are!”</p> + +<p>“Cruel? Suppose I told you about the millionaire +cur that– Oh, now, don’t go and cry! +Please don’t cry, Miss Jenny! I wouldn’t hurt +your feelings for the world! I didn’t mean anything +out of the way, really I didn’t! It’s only +that when I get to thinking of–of things, it sets +me half crazy. And now, can’t you see how it’s +going to be ten times worse for me after–with +you so altogether beyond me–” He stopped +short, flushed, and stammered lamely, “I–I +didn’t mean to say that!”</p> + +<p>She looked down, no less embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“Please let us talk of something else,” she murmured. +“It has been such a pleasant morning, +until you–until we began this silly discussion.”</p> + +<p>“All right, all right! Only mop up the dewdrops, +and we’ll turn on the sun machine. I +really didn’t mean to rip out that way at all. +But, you see, the thing’s been rankling in me ever +since we came aboard ship at the Cape, and Winthrope +and Lady Bayrose had my seat changed so +I couldn’t see you– Not that I hold anything +against them now–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span>“Mr. Blake, I suppose you know that this +African coast is particularly dangerous for women. +So far I have escaped the fever. But you yourself +said that the longer the attack is delayed, +the worse it will be.”</p> + +<p>Blake’s face darkened, and he turned to stare +inland along the ridge. She had flicked him on +the raw, and he thought that she had done so +intentionally.</p> + +<p>“You think I haven’t tried–that I’ve been +shamming!” he burst out bitterly. “You’re +right. There’s the one chance– But I +couldn’t leave you till the barricade was finished, +and it’s been only a few days since– All the +same, I oughtn’t to’ve waited a day. I’ll start +it to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“What! Start what?”</p> + +<p>“A catamaran. I can rig one up, in short +order, that, with a skin sail and an outrigger, will +do fairly well to coast along inside the reefs–barring +squalls. Worst thing is that it’s all a +guess whether the nearest settlement is up the +coast or down.”</p> + +<p>“And you can think of going, and leaving me +all alone here!”</p> + +<p>“That’s better than letting you risk two-to-one +chances on feeding the sharks.”</p> + +<p>“But you’d be risking it!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span>Blake uttered a short harsh laugh.</p> + +<p>“What’s the difference?” He paused a +moment; then added, with grim humor, “Anyway, +they’ll have earned a meal by the time +they get me chewed up.”</p> + +<p>“You sha’n’t go!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. We’ll see about it to-morrow. +There’s a grove of cocoanuts yonder. +Come on, and I’ll get some nuts. I can’t see any +water around here, and it would be dry eating, +with only the flask.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span><a id='link_24'></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A LION LEADS THEM</span></h2> + +<p>The palm grove stood under the lee of the +ridge, on a stretch of bare ground. Other +than seaward, the open space was hemmed +in by grass jungle, interspersed with clumps of +thorn-brush. On the north side a jutting corner +of the tall, yellow spear-grass curved out and +around, with the point of the hook some fifty +yards from the palms. Elsewhere the distance to +the jungle was nearly twice as far.</p> + +<p>Blake dropped the bag and his weapons, flung +down his hat, and started up a palm shaft. The +down-pointing bristles of his skin trousers aided +his grip. Though the lofty crown of the palm +was swaying in the wind, he reached the top and +was down again before Miss Leslie had arranged +the contents of the lunch bag.</p> + +<p>“Guess you’re not extra hungry,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>She made no response.</p> + +<p>“Mad, eh? Well, toss me the little knife. +Mine has got too good a meat-edge to spoil on +these husks.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span>“It was very kind of you to climb for the nuts, +and the wind blowing so hard up there,” she said, +as she handed over the penknife. “I am not +angry. It is only that I feel tired and depressed. +I hope I am not going to be–”</p> + +<p>“No; you’re not going to have the fever, or +any such thing! You’re played out, that’s all. +I’m a fool for bringing you so far. You’ll be all +right after you eat and rest. Here; drink this +cocoa milk.”</p> + +<p>She drained the nut, and upon his insistence, +made a pretence at eating. He was deceived +until, with the satisfying of his first keen hunger, +he again became observant.</p> + +<p>“Say, that won’t do!” he exclaimed. “Look +at your bowl. You haven’t nibbled enough to +keep a mouse alive.”</p> + +<p>“Really, I am not hungry. But I am resting.”</p> + +<p>“Try another nut. I’ll have one ready in two +shakes.”</p> + +<p>He caught his hat, which was dragging past in +a downward eddy of the wind, and weighted it +with a cocoanut. He wedged another nut between +his knees, and bent over it, tearing at the +husk. It took him only a few moments to strip +the fibre from the end and gouge open the germ +hole. He held out the nut, and glanced up to +meet her smile of acceptance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span>She was staring past him, her eyes wide with +terror, and the color fast receding from her face.</p> + +<p>“What in– Another snake?” he demanded, +twisting warily about to glare at the ground behind +him.</p> + +<p>“There–over in the grass!” she whispered, +“It looked out at me with terrible, savage eyes!”</p> + +<p>“Snake?–that far off?”</p> + +<p>“No, no!–a monster–a huge, fierce beast!”</p> + +<p>“Beast?” echoed Blake, grasping his bow and +arrows. “Where is he? Maybe only one of +these African buffaloes. How’d he look?–horns?”</p> + +<p>“I–I didn’t see any. It was all shaggy, +and yellow like the grass, and terrible eyes–<i>Oh!</i>”</p> + +<p>The girl’s scream was met by a ferocious, snarling +roar, so deep and prolonged that the air quivered +and the very ground seemed to shake.</p> + +<p>“God!–a lion!” cried Blake, the hair on his +bare head bristling like a startled animal’s.</p> + +<p>He turned squarely about toward the ridge, his +bow half drawn. Had the lion shown himself +then, Blake would have shot on the instant. As +it was, the beast remained behind the screening +border of grass, where he could watch his intended +quarry without being seen in turn. The delay +gave Blake time for reflection. He spoke sharply, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> +as it were biting off his words: “Hit out. I’ll +stop the bluffer.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t. Oh, I’m afraid!”</p> + +<p>Again the hidden beast gave voice to his +mighty rumbling challenge. Still he did not +appear, and Blake attempted a derisive jeer: +“Hey, there, louder! We’ve not run yet! +It’s all right, little woman. The skulking sneak +is trying to bluff us. ’Fraid to come out if we +don’t stampede. He’ll make off when he finds +we don’t scare. Lions never tackle men in the +daytime. Just keep cool a while. He’ll–”</p> + +<p>“Look!–there to the right!–I saw him +again! He’s creeping around! See the grass +move!”</p> + +<p>“That’s only the wind. It eddies down–God! +he is stalking around. Trying to take us +from behind–curse him! He may get me, but +I’ll get him too,–the dirty sneak!”</p> + +<p>The blood had flowed back into Blake’s face, +and showed on each cheek in a little red patch. +His broad chest rose and fell slowly to deep +respirations; his eyes glowed like balls of white-hot +steel. He drew his bow a little tauter, and +wheeled slowly to keep the arrow pointed at the +slight wave in the grass which marked the stealthy +movements of the lion. Miss Leslie, more terrified +with every added moment of suspense, cringed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +around, that she might keep him between her and +the hidden beast.</p> + +<p>Minute after minute dragged by. Only a man +of Blake’s obstinate, sullen temperament could +have withstood the strain and kept cool. Even +he found the impulse to leap up and run all but +irresistible. Miss Leslie crouched behind him, +no more able to run than a mouse with which a +cat has been playing.</p> + +<p>Once they caught a glimpse of the sinuous, +tawny form gliding among the leafless stems of +a thorn clump. Blake took quick aim; but the +outlines of the beast were indistinct and the +range long. He hesitated, and the opportunity +was lost.</p> + +<p>Yard by yard they watched the slight swaying +of the grass tops which betrayed the cautious +advance of the grim stalker. The beast did not +roar again. Having failed to flush his game, he +was seeking to catch them off their guard, or perhaps +was warily taking stock of the strange +creatures, whose like he had never seen.</p> + +<p>Now and then there was a pause, and the grass +tops swayed only to the down-puffs of the heightening +gale. At such moments the two grew rigid, +watching and waiting in breathless suspense. +They could see, as distinctly as though there had +been no screening grass, the baleful eyes of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +huge cat and the shaggy forebody as the beast +stood still and glared out at them.</p> + +<p>Then the sinuous wave would start on again +around the grass border, and Blake would draw +in a deep breath and mutter a word of encouragement +to the girl: “Look, now–the dirty sneak! +Trying to give us the creeps, is he? I’ll creeps +him! ’Fraid to show his pretty mug!”</p> + +<p>Not until the beast had circled half around the +glade did his purpose flash upon Blake. With +the wariness of all savage hunters, the animal had +marked out the spur of jungle on the north side, +where he could creep closer to his quarry before +leaping from cover.</p> + +<p>“The damned sneak!” growled Blake. “You +there, Jenny?”</p> + +<p>She could not speak, but he heard her gasp.</p> + +<p>“Brace up, little woman! Where’s your grit? +You’re out of this deal, anyway. He’ll choke +to death swallowing me– But say; couldn’t +you manage to shin up a palm, twenty feet or so, +and hang on for a couple of minutes I”</p> + +<p>“I–can’t move–I am–”</p> + +<p>“Make a try! It’ll give me a run for my +money. I’ll take the next elevator after you. +That’ll bring the bluffer out on the hot-foot. I +slip a surprise between his ribs, and we view the +scenery while he’s passing in his checks. Come; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +make a spurt! He’s around the turn, and getting +nearer every step.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t–Tom,–there is no need that both +of us– You climb up–”</p> + +<p>He turned about as the meaning of her whisper +dawned upon him. Her eyes were shining with +the ecstasy of self-sacrifice. It was only the +glance of an instant; then he was again facing +the jungle.</p> + +<p>“God! You think I’d do that!”</p> + +<p>She made no reply. There was a pause. Blake–crouched on one knee, tense and alert–waited +until the sinister wave was advancing +into the point of the incurved jungle. Then he +spoke, in a low, even tone: “Feel if my glass is +there.”</p> + +<p>Her hand reached around and pressed against +the fob pocket which he had sewn in the belt of +his skin trousers.</p> + +<p>“Right. Now slip my club up under my +elbow–big end. Lick on the nose’ll stop a +dog or a bull. It’s a chance.”</p> + +<p>She thrust the club under his right elbow, and +he gripped it against his side.</p> + +<p>At that moment the lion bounded from cover, +with a roar like a clap of thunder. Blake sprang +erect. The beast checked himself in the act +of leaping, and crouched with his great paws +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +outstretched, every hooked claw thrust out, ready +to tear and mangle. In two or three bounds he +could have leaped upon Blake and crushed him +with a single stroke of his paw. As he rose to +repeat his deafening roar, it seemed to Blake that +he stood higher than a horse–that his mouth +gaped wide as the end of a hogshead. And yet +the beast stood hesitating, restrained by brute +dread of the unknown. Never before had any +animal that he had hunted reared up to meet his +attack in this strange manner.</p> + +<p>“Lie flat!” commanded Blake; “lie flat, and +don’t move! I’m going to call his bluff. Keep +still till the poison gets in its work. I’ll keep +him busy long as I can. When it’s over, hit out +for home along the beach. Keep inside the barricade, +and watch all you can from the cliffs. +Might light a fire up there nights. There’s sure +to be a steamer before long–”</p> + +<p>“Tom!” she cried, struggling to her knees,–“Tom!”</p> + +<p>But he did not pause or look around. He was +beginning to circle slowly to the left across the +open ground, in a spiral curve that would bring +him to the edge of the jungle within thirty yards +of the lion. There was red now showing in his +eyes. His hair was bristling, no longer with fear, +but with sheer brute fury; his lips were drawn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +back from the clenched teeth; his nostrils distended +and quivering; his forehead wrinkled like +that of an angry mastiff. His look was more +ferocious than that of the snarling beast he faced. +All the primeval in him was roused. He was +become a man of the Cave Age. He went to +meet death, his mind and body aflame with +fierce lust to kill.</p> + +<p>The lion stilled his roars, and crouched as if +to spring, snarling and grinning with rage and +uncertainty. His eyes, unaccustomed to the +glare of the mid-day sun, blinked incessantly, +though he followed the man’s every movement, +his snarls deepening into growls at the slightest +change of attitude.</p> + +<p>In his blind animal rage, Blake had forgotten +that the purpose of his lateral advance was to +place as great a distance as possible between him +and the girl before the clash. Yet instinct kept +him moving along his spiral course, on the chance +that he might catch his foe off his guard.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the lion half rose and stretched +forward, sniffing. There was an uneasy whining +note in his growls. Blake let the club slip from +beneath his arm, and drew his bow until the +arrow-head lay upon his thumb. His outstretched +arm was rigid as a bar of steel. So tense and +alert were all his nerves that he knew he could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +drive home both arrows, and still have time to +swing his club before the beast was upon him.</p> + +<p>A puff of wind struck against his back, and +swept on to the nostrils of the lion, laden with the +odor of man. The beast uttered a short, startled +roar, and whirling about, leaped away into the +jungle so quickly that Blake’s arrow flashed past +a full yard behind.</p> + +<p>The second arrow was on the string before the +first had struck the ground. But the lion had +vanished in the grass. With a yell, Blake dashed +on across to the nearest point of the jungle. As +he ran, he drew the burning-glass from his fob, +and flipped it open, ready for use. If the lion +had turned behind the sheltering grass stems, +he was too cowardly to charge out again. Within +a minute the jungle border was a wall of roaring +flame.</p> + +<p>The grass, long since dead, and bone-dry with +the days of tropical sunshine since the cyclone, +flared up before the wind like gunpowder. Even +against the wind the fire ate its way along the +ground with fearful rapidity, trailing behind it an +upwhirling vortex of smoke and flame. No living +creature could have burst through that belt of +fire.</p> + +<p>A wave of fierce heat sent Blake staggering +back, scorched and blistered. There was no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +exultance in his bearing. For the moment all +thought of the lion was swallowed up in awe of +his own work. He stared at the hell of leaping, +roaring flames from beneath his upraised arm. +To the north sparks and lighted wisps of grass +driven by the gale had already fired the jungle +half way to the farther ridge.</p> + +<p>Step by step Blake drew back. His heel +struck against something soft. He looked down, +and saw Miss Leslie lying on the sand, white +and still. She had fainted, overcome by fear or +by the unendurable heat. The heat must have +stupefied him as well. He stared at her, dull-eyed, +wondering if she was dead. His brain +cleared. He sprang over to where the flask lay +beside the remnants of the lunch.</p> + +<p>He was dashing the last drops of the tepid +water in her face, when she moaned, and her +eyelids began to flutter. He flung down the +flask, and fell to chafing her wrist.</p> + +<p>“Tom!” she moaned.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Jenny, I’m here. It’s all right,” +he answered.</p> + +<p>“Have I had a sunstroke? Is that why it +seems so– I can hardly breathe–”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, I tell you. Only a little bonfire +I touched off. Guess you must have fainted, +but it’s all right now.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span>“It was silly of me to faint. But when I saw +that dreadful thing leap–” She faltered, and +lay shuddering. Fearful that she was about to +swoon again, Blake slapped her hand between +his palms with stinging force.</p> + +<p>“You’re it!” he shouted. “The joke’s on +you! Kitty jumped just the other way, and he +won’t come back in a hurry with that fire to +head him off. Jump up now, and we’ll do a jig +on the strength of it.”</p> + +<p>She attempted a smile, and a trace of color +showed in her cheeks. With an idea that action +would further her recovery, he drew her to a +sitting position, stepped quickly behind, and, +with his hands beneath her elbows, lifted her +upright. But she was still too weak and giddy +to stand alone. As he released his grip, she +swayed and would have fallen had he not caught +her arm.</p> + +<p>“Steady!” he admonished. “Brace up; you’re +all right.”</p> + +<p>“I’m–I’m just a little dizzy,” she murmured, +clinging to his shoulder. “It will pass in a minute. +It’s so silly, but I’m that way–Tom, +I–I think you are the bravest man–”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes–but that’s not the point. Leave +go now, like a sensible girl. It’s about time to +hit the trail.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span>He drew himself free, and without a glance +at her blushing face, began to gather up their +scattered outfit. His hat lay where he had +weighted it down with the cocoanut. He tossed +the nut into the skin bag, and jammed the hat on +his head, pulling the brim far down over his eyes. +When he had fetched his club, he walked back +past the girl, with his eyes averted.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” he muttered.</p> + +<p>The scarlet in the girl’s cheeks swept over her +whole face in a burning wave, which ebbed slowly +and left her colorless. Blake had started off without +a backward glance. She gazed about with a +bewildered look at the palms and the barren ridge +and the fiery tidal wave of flame. Her gaze came +back to Blake, and she followed him.</p> + +<p>Within a short distance she found herself out +of the sheltering lee of the ridge. The first wind gust +almost overthrew her. She could never have +walked against such a gale; but with the wind +at her back she was buoyed up and borne along +as though on wings. Her sole effort was to keep +her foothold. Had it been their morning trip, +she could have cried out with joy and skipped +along before the gusts like a school-girl. Now +she walked as soberly as the wind would permit, +and took care not to lessen the distance between +herself and Blake.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span>Mile by mile they hastened back across the +plain,–on their right the blue sea of water, with +its white-caps and spray; on their left the yellow +sea of fire, with its dun fog of smoke.</p> + +<p>Once only had Blake looked back to see if the +girl was following. After that he swung along, +with down-bent head, his gaze upon the ground. +Even when he passed in under the grove and +around the pool to the foot of the cleft, he began +the ascent without waiting to assist her up the +break in the path. The girl came after, her lips +firm, her eyes bright and expectant. She drew +herself up the ledge as though she had been +bred to mountain climbing.</p> + +<p>Inside the barricade Blake was waiting to close +the opening. She crept through, and rose to +catch him by the sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Tom, look at me,” she said. “Once I was +most unjust to you in my thoughts. I wronged +you. Now I must tell you that I think you are +the bravest–the noblest man–”</p> + +<p>“Get away!” he exclaimed, and he shook off +her hand roughly. “Don’t be a fool! You don’t +know what you’re talking about.”</p> + +<p>“But I do, Tom. I believe that you are–”</p> + +<p>“I’m a blackguard–do you hear?”</p> + +<p>“No blackguard is brave. The way you faced +that terrible beast–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span>“Yes, blackguard–to’ve gone and shown to +you that I–to’ve let you say a single word–Can’t +you see? Even if I’m not what you call a +gentleman, I thought I knew how any man ought +to treat a woman–but to go and let you know, +before we’d got back among people!”</p> + +<p>“But–but, Tom, why not, if we–”</p> + +<p>“No!” he retorted harshly. “I’m going now +to pile up wood on the cliff for a beacon fire. In +the morning I’ll start making that catamaran–”</p> + +<p>“No, you shall not– You shall not go off, +and leave me, and–and risk your life! I can’t +bear to think of it! Stay with me, Tom–dear! +Even if a ship never came–”</p> + +<p>He turned resolutely, so as not to see her +blushing face.</p> + +<p>“Come now, Miss Leslie,” he said in a dry, +even tone; “don’t make it so awfully hard. +Let’s be sensible, and shake hands on it, like +two real comrades–”</p> + +<p>She struck frantically at his outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>“Keep away–I hate you!” she cried.</p> + +<p>Before he could speak, she was running up the +cleft.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span><a id='link_25'></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><span class='h2fs'>IN DOUBLE SALVATION</span></h2> + +<p>When, an hour or more after dawn the +next morning, the girl slowly drew +open her door and came out of the +cave, Blake was nowhere in sight. She sighed, +vastly relieved, and hastened across to bathe her +flushed face in the spring. Stopping every few +moments to listen for his step down the cleft, she +gathered up a hamper of food and fled to the +tree-ladder.</p> + +<p>As she drew herself up on the cliff, she noticed +a thin column of smoke rising from the last +smouldering brands of a beacon fire that had been +built in the midst of the bird colony, on the extreme +outer edge of the headland. She did not, +however, observe that, while the smoke column +streamed up from the fire directly skyward, beyond +it there was a much larger volume of smoke, +which seemed to have eddied down the cliff face +and was now rolling up into view from out over +the sea. She gave no heed to this, for the sight +of the beacon had instantly alarmed her with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span> +possibility that Blake was still on the headland, +and would imagine that she was seeking him.</p> + +<p>She paused, her cheeks aflame. But the only +sign of Blake that she could see was the fire itself. +She reflected that he might very well have left +before dawn. As likely as not, he had descended +at the north end of the cleft, and had gone off to +the river to start his catamaran. At the thought +all the color ebbed from her cheeks and left her +white and trembling. Again she stood hesitating. +With a sigh she started on toward the signal staff.</p> + +<p>She was close upon the border of the bird colony, +when Blake sat up from behind a ledge, and +she found herself staring into his blinking eyes.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” he mumbled drowsily. He sprang +up, wide awake, and flushing with the guilty consciousness +of what he had done. “Look at the +sun–way up! Didn’t mean to oversleep, Miss +Leslie. You see I was up pretty late, tending the +beacon. But of course that’s no excuse–”</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” she exclaimed. There were tears in +her eyes; yet she smiled as she spoke. “I know +what you mean by ‘pretty late.’ You’ve been +up all night.”</p> + +<p>“No, I haven’t. Not all night–”</p> + +<p>“To be sure! I quite understand, Mr. Thomas +Blake!... Now, sit down, and eat this luncheon.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t. Haven’t time. I’ve got to get to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +river and set to work. I’ll get some jerked beef +and eat it on the way. You see–”</p> + +<p>“Tom!” she protested.</p> + +<p>“It’s for you,” he rejoined, and his lips closed +together resolutely.</p> + +<p>He was stepping past her, when over the seaward +edge of the cliff there came a sound like the +yell of a raging sea-monster.</p> + +<p>“Siren!” shouted Blake, whirling about.</p> + +<p>The cloud of smoke beyond the cliff end was +now rolling up more to the left. He dashed away +towards the north edge of the cliff as though he +intended to leap off into space. The girl ran +after him as fast as she could over the loose +stones. Before she had covered half the distance +she saw him halt on the very brink of the cliff, +and begin to wave and shout like a madman. A +few steps farther on she caught sight of the +steamer. It was lying close in, only a little way +off the north point of the headland.</p> + +<p>Even as she saw the vessel, its siren responded +to Blake’s wild gestures with a series of joyous +screams. There could be no mistake. He had +been seen. Already they were letting go anchor, +and there was a little crowd of men gathering +about one of the boats. Blake turned and started +on a run for the cliff. But Miss Leslie darted +before him, compelling him to halt.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span>“Wait!” she cried, her eyes sparkling with +happy tears. “Tom, it’s come now. You +needn’t–”</p> + +<p>“Let me by! I’m going to meet them. I +want to–”</p> + +<p>But she put her hands upon his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Tom!” she whispered, “let it be now, before +any one–anything can possibly come between +us! Let it be a part of our life here–here, +where I’ve learned how brave and true a real +man can be!”</p> + +<p>“And then have him prove himself a sneak!” +he cried. “No; I won’t, Jenny! I’ve got you +to think of. Wait till I’ve seen your father. +Ten to one, he’ll not hear of it–he’ll cut you +off without a cent. Not but what I’d be glad +myself; but you’re used to luxuries, girlie, and +I’m a poor man. I can’t give them to you–”</p> + +<p>She laid a hand on his mouth, and smiled up +at him in tender mockery.</p> + +<p>“Come, now, Mr. Blake; you’re not very +complimentary. After surviving my cooking all +these weeks, don’t you think I might do, at a +pinch, for a poor man’s wife!”</p> + +<p>“No, Jenny!” he protested, trying to draw +back. “You oughtn’t to decide now. When +you get back among your friends, things may +look different. Think of your society friends! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span> +Wait till you see me with other men–gentlemen! +I’m just a rough, uncultured, ordinary–”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” she cried, and she again placed her +hand on his mouth. “You sha’n’t say such cruel +things about Tom–my Tom–the man I trust–that I–”</p> + +<p>Her arms slipped about his neck, and her eyes +shone up into his with tender radiance.</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” he begged hoarsely. “’T ain’t fair! +I–I can’t stand it!”</p> + +<p>“The man I love!” she whispered.</p> + +<p>He crushed her to him in his great arms.</p> + +<p>“My little girl!–dear little girl!” he repeated, +and he pressed his lips to her hair.</p> + +<p>She snuggled her face closer against his shoulder, +and replied in a very small voice, “I–I +suppose you know that ship captains can +m-marry people.”</p> + +<p>“But I haven’t even a job yet!” he exclaimed. +“Suppose your father–”</p> + +<p>“Please listen!” she pleaded. There was a +sound like suppressed sobbing.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he ventured, and he listened, +greatly perturbed. The muffled voice sounded +very meek and plaintive: “I’ll try to do my +part, Mr. Blake,–really I will! I–I hope we +can manage to struggle along–somehow. You +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> +know, I have a little of my own. It’s only three–three million; but–”</p> + +<p>“What!” he demanded, and he held her out +at arm’s length, to stare at her in frowning bewilderment. +“If I’d known that, I’d–”</p> + +<p>“You’d never have given me a chance to–to +propose to you, you dear old silly!” she cried, +her eyes dancing with tender mirth. “See +here!”</p> + +<p>She turned from him, and back again, and held +up a withered, crumpled flower. He looked, and +saw that it was the amaryllis blossom.</p> + +<p>“You–kept it!”</p> + +<p>“Because–because, even then, down in the +bottom of my heart, I had begun to realize–to +know what you were like–and of course that +meant– Tom, tell me! Do you think I’m +utterly shameless? Do you blame me for being +the one to–to–”</p> + +<p>“Blame you!” he cried. He paused to put a +finger under her chin and raise her down-bent +face. His eyes were very blue, but there was a +twinkle in their depths. “Oh, yes; it was dreadful, +wasn’t it? But I guess I’ve no complaint +to file just now.”</p> + +<p class='c mt20'>THE END</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='fs14 c'><b>Popular Copyright Books</b></p> +<p class='c'>AT MODERATE PRICES</p> +<p class='c'>Any of the following titles can be<br />bought of your bookseller at 50 cents per volume.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><b>The Shepherd of the Hills.</b> By Harold Bell Wright.</p> +<p><b>Jane Cable.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</p> +<p><b>Abner Daniel.</b> By Will N. Harben.</p> +<p><b>The Far Horizon.</b> By Lucas Malet.</p> +<p><b>The Halo.</b> By Bettina von Hutten.</p> +<p><b>Jerry Junior.</b> By Jean Webster.</p> +<p><b>The Powers and Maxine.</b> By C. N. and A. M. Williamson.</p> +<p><b>The Balance of Power.</b> By Arthur Goodrich.</p> +<p><b>Adventures of Captain Kettle.</b> By Cutcliffe Hyne.</p> +<p><b>Adventures of Gerard.</b> By A. Conan Doyle.</p> +<p><b>Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.</b> By A. 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