Ridgeway touched his shoulder and bade him arise, pointing toward the mounts and their attendant glory. To his amazement the chief uttered an exclamation of satisfaction and abruptly ran back to the boats. In an incredibly short space of time the restless savages were coming up the beach with their canoes on their shoulders, heading straight for the opening through which the moonlight streamed. Two of them formed a "basket," and Lady Tennys, taking her seat upon their hands, and holding timidly to their hard, muscular shoulders, was borne swiftly onward and upward, Ridgeway having some difficulty in keeping pace with the human carriage.

Big rocks told them that they were at the base of the rocky columns and the course of the little band indicated that they were to pass between the towering, almost perpendicular monsters. Suddenly the little cavalcade of the night came to a halt, the boats were thrown down and Hugh arrived at the conclusion that they were to stop until morning. In this he found himself mistaken, for with the very next moment he heard the splashing of water, seemingly beneath his feet. Up to now he had been looking upward at the rift in the rocks. Instead of a rocky gorge he now saw the shimmering of water, and a fresh exclamation of surprise fell from his lips.

"Can this be fairyland?" he cried, completely dazed.

"We must be dreaming, Hugh," murmured she. The party stood at the water's edge, looking up through the miniature canon, the rushing of distant rapids coming to their ears.

The boats were lowered, and the oarsmen were soon pulling sturdily between the tall twins. These frowning monsters formed a perfect gateway from the sea to the home of the savages. Hugh felt that he was shut off forever from the outside world as he surveyed, with sinking heart, the portals through which they had passed. Soon a second landing was made, this time upon soft, rich soil, instead of crunching sand. It was easy to tell that they were standing on velvety grass, soft, cool and dewy. The boats were made fast, the spar and shell were swung upon broad shoulders, and then the party plunged straight into the wood, Lady Tennys being carried as before.

After ten minutes of rapid walking over a well-beaten trail the band halted, and the chief uttered several piercing cries. From afar off in the still night came an echoing answer and again the march was resumed, the travellers keeping close to the bank of the river. In time they reached an open stretch, across which the escort started, turning away from the stream.

There were fitful flashes of light ahead. Across the little plain came a jumble of flying human beings, two or three bearing torches. They seemed to have sprung from the ground, so abruptly did they appear before the eyes of the dumbfounded strangers in this strange land. The chief went forward rapidly and checked the advancing figures, preparing them for what was to follow. The entire company prostrated itself in good form.

With the horde of stupefied recruits at their heels, the white people at length entered the village, which nestled against the hillside. Hundreds of dark, almost naked, savages rushed from the shadows, the news of the great visitation having spread like wildfire. By the time the halt was made in front of a large, odd-looking structure, her Ladyship was so overcome with excitement that she could hardly stand. Ridgeway caught her as she staggered from her improvised litter. Presently she grew stronger, and with her companion entered what was apparently a palace among the squat, queerly built houses.

The chief ordered torches stuck in the ground, and a bright, strong light filled the interior. They found themselves in a large apartment, twenty by thirty feet in size. A reed or grass roof provided covering. This roof, like those in civilized lands, ran to a high point in the centre, the sides being fully twelve feet from the ground. There were no windows in the walls, but as they did not come within three feet of the roof, there was ample provision for ventilation and light. The entrance to this structure was through wide portals, reaching from ground to eaves. There was no floor save the earth, but there were rugs made from the skins of wild animals. Hugh noticed with a thrill of excitement that among them were tiger and leopard skins. Directly opposite the entrance stood a rough and peculiarly hewn stone, resembling in a general way the form of a man, colossal, diabolical.

"An idol," whispered Lady Tennys in awed tones.

"Perhaps it would be wisdom on our part to kneel before the thing," said Hugh calculatingly.

"I'll do anything you think best," she said reluctantly, kneeling for a moment with him before the idol. Whereupon the chief and his attendants shouted for joy and fell upon their much-used faces. The populace, thronging about the temple, took up the cry, and all night long they chanted praise to the living gods. The weird, ghastly figures flitted from end to end of the mad village long after the chief and his party had left the temple to the sole possession of the new divinities.

"I wonder if they expect us to sit up forever as sedately as that old party over there," mused Hugh, after the savages had withdrawn, greatly to the mystification of their guests. "We're evidently left here to make the best of it. I fancy we are now supposed to be in business as real gods with a steady job in the temple."

"I am beginning to think we have come to a terrible place, Hugh. How fierce and wild these people are! What is to become of us?" asked she, shivering as with a chill. "How horrible it would be if they brought us here as a sacrifice to this beastly idol. Is there no way of escape?"

"Nonsense! We've queered this antiquated old fossil forever. Two real live gods are worth ten thousand stone quarries like that. If you say so, I'll have a few of his worshippers take him down and toss him in the river."

The big room was devoid of furniture save for the rugs and several blocks of stone grouped about the idol. Ridgeway was convinced that they were in the sacred place of worship. Seating themselves rather sacrilegiously upon the stone blocks, they looked about the place with tired, hopeless eyes. The walls were hung with spears, war clubs and other ferocious weapons, evidently the implements of defence to be used by the stone deity in case of emergency.

"Well," quoth Hugh, after the gloomy inspection, "they must think that gods don't sleep. I don't see anything that looks like a berth around here. God or no god, I am going to turn in somewhere for the night. His Reverence may be disturbed if I snore, but I dare say his kick won't amount to much. I'll pile some of these skins over in that corner for you and then I'll build a nest for myself near the door." Suiting the action to the word, he proceeded to make a soft couch for her. She sat by and watched him with troubled eyes.

"Do you think it safe to go to sleep when we don't know what they may do during the night? They may pounce upon us and kill us." Hugh paused in his work and walked to her side.

"Something tells me we are safe with these people. We may as well make the best of it, anyhow. We are in for it, and I'll bet my soul we come out all right. Go over there and sleep. I'll be the first one killed if they attempt violence. Here's a club that will down a few of them before they get the best of me." He took from the wall a great murderous-looking club and swung it about his head.

"I want to be killed first, Hugh, if it comes to that. If you are merciful, you will kill me yourself when you see that it is their intention to do so," she said earnestly.

"Pooh, there's no danger," he said, and went back to his work, impressed by her manner more than he cared to admit. With her chin in her hands she resignedly watched him complete her bed of tiger skins.

"We have desecrated the temple by disturbing the rugs," she said at length.

"I'll have 'em make some hammocks for us to-morrow and we'll hang 'em in each end of the temple. And we'll also have this place divided into two or three apartments, say two sleeping rooms and a parlor, perhaps a kitchen. If necessary, an addition can be stuck on just back of where the idol stands. There'll be great doings around here when Yankee progress takes hold."

"You surely do not mean to ruin their temple! They will be up in arms, Hugh."

"Well, they'll have to endure a great many things if they expect to support such luxuries as we are. If those fellows don't quit falling down and bumping their faces on the ground, I'm going to have a lot of pads made for them to wear when they think there is danger of meeting us. They'll wear their faces out." It did him good to hear her laugh. "Well, your bed is ready, my Lady."

"I am dying for a drink of water. Do you know how long it has been since we touched food and drink?"

"All day! I never thought of it until this minute. I am half famished myself," he cried in dismay. Then he rushed to the door and shouted to some natives who were standing near by eyeing the crude building inquisitively by the light of a single torch. "Hey! you fellows!"

At the sight of his white figure and the sound of his voice, torch and all fell to the ground.

"Get up, you blamed fools," called the white man, walking toward them in exasperation. They arose tremblingly as he drew near, and he managed by signs to make them understand that he wanted food and drink. Away they dashed, and he re-entered the temple. Lady Tennys was laughing.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked in surprise.

"It was so funny to hear you call them fools."

"I hope they understood me. Anyhow, they've gone for the fatted cocoanut or something equally as oriental."

In less time than seemed possible the happy messengers arrived at the door with food enough for a dozen hungry people. The giant chief followed his subjects, and it was through his hands that Hugh received the welcome food. The white people were gratified to find in the assortment rich bananas and oranges, raw meat, peculiar shell fish, berries and vegetables resembling the tomato. At first the natives looked a little dismayed over the disordered condition of the temple, but no sign of resentment appeared, much to the relief of Lady Tennys. The luscious offerings were placed on one of the stone blocks as fast as they were handed to Ridgeway, the natives looking on in feeble consternation.

The chief was the only one to enter the temple, and he started to prostrate himself before the stone idol. He appeared to be at a loss as to what course he should pursue. Hugh promptly relieved him. Shaking his head vigorously, he pointed to the stone image, signifying that there were to be no more salutations bestowed upon it, all homage being due to himself and the lady. The fickle pagan, after a waning look of love for their renounced idol, proceeded to treat it with scorn by devoting himself entirely to the usurpers. He brought cocoanut shells filled with cool water, and the thirsty ones drank.

"We seem to have got here in the fruit, fish, vegetable and novelty season, to say the least," observed Hugh.

"Isn't it wonderful?" was all she could say, her eyes sparkling. Never had he seen her so ravishingly beautiful as now, filled as she was with the mingled emotions of fear, excitement, interest, even of rapture. He could not prevent or subdue the thrill of indescribable joy which grew out of the selfish thought that he had saved her and that she must lean upon him solely for protection in this wild land. Turning sharply from her, he glanced at the tempting feast and unceremoniously dismissed the chief and his followers. The big savage stood undecided for a moment in the centre of the room, wavering between fear of the new god's displeasure and an evident desire to perform some service.

After an instant he boldly strode to a stone block back of and to the left of the image. Seizing it by the top, he gave the impression that he was about to lift the great stone. Instead, however, he merely slid from its position a thin slab, pushing it half way off of its square base. Instantly the sound of rushing water filled the ear, and the unaccountable, muffled roar that had puzzled them was half explained. The block was hollow, revealing a deep, black hole, out of which poured the sound of the hidden stream. The mystified observers could plainly see the water some ten feet below the surface of the earth, gliding swiftly off through a subterranean passage. The chief made them understand that this well was for the purpose of supplying the image with drinking water whenever he needed it.

"That's very interesting," said Hugh to Tennys. "I'll have to see where this water comes from to-morrow. From a practical point of view it is the finest bit of natural sewerage I ever have seen. I'll make arrangements to tap it, if we are to live here."

"You lawless Americans!"

Apparently satisfied, the chief and his staring companions withdrew, devoutly prostrating themselves not to the graven image, but to the living, breathing beings who were awaiting, with an ungodlike appetite, an opportunity to make way with the tempting fruit.

"It is ridiculous to allow those poor things to fall down like that every time they turn around before us," she said, when they were alone.

"We must encourage it. If we are to be idols we can't afford to give our subjects a bit of relief from their religious obligations, and I'm quite sure we are idols or sovereigns, more than likely the former, judging by the snubbing our flinty friend has received."

"If we are to live among these people, Hugh Ridgeway, I, for one, intend to tell them, if possible, of the real God, and to do what I can for a cause I served but feebly in the past. I may be a poor missionary, but I intend to try in my weak way to do some good among these poor, benighted creatures."

"I think we'd better let well enough alone," said he disparagingly.

"Why, Hugh, how can you say that?"

"I haven't thought very much about God since I've been in this land. I've been too busy," he muttered, with no little shame in his face, although he assumed an air of indifference.

"He saved us from the sea," she said simply, with a tremor in her voice. "Surely you remember the prayers you uttered from your very soul on that night. Were they not to God?"

"Begin your missionary work with me, Tennys. I am worse than the savages," he said, not in answer to her question.

Silently and greedily they ate of the delicious fruit, and found new sensations in the taste of more than one strange viand of nature. A calm restfulness settled down upon their tired bodies, and all the world seemed joyfully at peace with them.

Almost overcome by sleep, he managed to toss a few tiger skins on the ground near the door, not forgetting to place his club beside the improvised couch. "Sleep comfortably and don't be afraid," he said. She slowly arose from the block and threw herself on the bed of skins.

"You are so good to me and so thoughtful," she murmured sleepily. "Good-night!"

"Good-night," came his far away voice, as out of a dream.

Outside, the celebration was at its height, but the tired idols heard not a sound of the homage which was theirs that night.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE TRANSFORMATION BEGINS

When Ridgeway opened his eyes, the sunlight was pouring in upon him through the doorway. He looked at his watch, and was surprised to find that it was nearly eleven o'clock. Lady Tennys still slept on her couch of skins; the torches had burned to the ground; the grim idol leered malignantly upon the intruders, and the dream that he had experienced during the night was rudely dispelled. His eyes strayed again to the black, glossy, confused hair of the sleeper in the far corner, and a feeling of ineffable pity for her became companion to the sad wrenches that had grown from the misery of his own unhappiness.

She was sleeping on her side, her face from him, her right arm beneath her head, the dainty jewelled hand lying limply upon the spotted leopard skin. The beautifully moulded figure, slight yet perfect, swelling to the well-turned hip, tapering to the tip of the trim shoe which protruded from beneath the rumpled skirt, affording a tiny glimpse of a tempting ankle, was to him a most pathetic picture. As he was about to turn to the door, she awakened with a start and a faint cry. Sitting half erect, she gave a terrified, bewildered glance about her, her eyes at last falling upon him.

"Are you really here?" she cried, joy rushing to her eyes. "I dreamed that you had fled and left me to be cut to pieces by the savages."

"Dreams go by contraries, and I am, therefore, a very brave man. But come, it is eleven o'clock. Let us see what this place looks like in the sunlight."

Together they went to the wide entrance. A surprise awaited them in their first view of the village by day. Along the base of the circular range of hills stretched the email homes of the inhabitants, but, search as they would, they could discover no signs of life. There was not a human form in sight.

"What the dev—dickens does this mean?" exclaimed he.

"It seemed as if there were thousands of them here last night," she cried.

"Maybe we have lost our worshippers. I wonder if we are to be the sole possessors of this jungle metropolis?"

A mile away they could distinguish the banks of the river, running toward the great stone gateway of this perfect Eden. The plain between the hills and the river was like a green, annular piece of velvet, not over a mile in diameter, skirted on all sides by tree-covered highlands. The river ran directly through the centre of the basin, coming from the forest land to their right.

In some trepidation they walked to the corner of the temple and surveyed the hillside. Rising steeply from the low ground ran the green slope, at the top of which grew huge trees. The village lay at the base of the hills and was over a mile long, a perfect semi-circle of strange little huts, stretched out in a single line, with the temple as its central point.

"There is the beginning of our underground stream," exclaimed he, pointing up the elevation. A fierce little stream came plunging from the very heart of the mound, half way to the summit, tearing eagerly to the bottom, where it disappeared in the ground.

Suddenly the sound of distant shouting—or chanting, to be explicit—and the beating of drums came to their ears. They searched the hills and valley with alarm and dread in their eyes, but there was no sign of humanity. For many minutes the chanting continued, growing louder in volume as it drew nearer. At last Lady Tennys uttered an exclamation and pointed toward an opening in the ridge far to the left of the village. A string of natives came winding slowly, solemnly from this cleft—men, women and children apparently without end.

The white people stood like statues in the doorway, watching the approach of the brown figures. There were fully two thousand in that singular procession, at the head of which strode the big chief, with perhaps fifty native women at his heels.

"His multiplied wife," observed Hugh sententiously.

"Do you think all of them are his wives?" said she, doubtingly.

"It seems to be a heathen's choice to punish himself on earth and avoid it in the hereafter."

Behind the women came five men wearing long white robes and carrying unusually long spears. They were followed by the rabble. At length the weird cavalcade, marching straight across the plain, came to a halt not more than a hundred feet from the entrance to the temple. The chief advanced a few steps, pausing at the edge of a bare, white spot of ground some ten feet square. Then, after a most reverential bow, he tossed a small reddish chunk of wood into the white square. No sooner had the leader deposited his piece of wood than forward came the women, the white-robed men, and then the rag-tag of the population, each person tossing a piece upon the rapidly growing heap. In silent amusement, Ridgeway and Lady Tennys watched this strange ceremony.

"They've been visiting somebody's woodpile," speculated Hugh.

"Perhaps they intend to roast us alive," ventured she.

The small army fell back from the pile of wood, the chief maintaining a position several feet to the fore, a lad behind him bearing a lighted torch. After many signs and presumably devout antics, one of the spearmen took the torch and lighted this contribution from a combined populace. As the thin column of smoke arose on the still, hot air, the vast crowd fell to the ground as one person, arising almost instantly to begin the wildest, most uncanny dance that mortal ever saw. The smoke and flames grew, the dry wood crackled, the spearmen poked it with their long weapons, and the vast brown audience went into a perfect frenzy of fervor.

Not until the pile was reduced to ashes did the smoke dance cease. The spearmen retired, and the big chief came forward with a tread so ludicrously grand that they could scarce refrain from laughter. He carried two short staffs in his hands, the heads of which were nothing less than the skulls of infants. To the disgust of the white people the chief presented to each of them a shudder-inspiring wand. Afterward they learned that the skull-tipped staffs signified death to all who opposed their way. They also learned that the red bits of wood that had gone up in the flame were stained by the blood of a half dozen prisoners of war, executed the night before as a sacrifice to the new gods.

The new monarchs accepted the sceptres gingerly and the wildest glee broke loose in the waiting throng. While they danced and shouted, Hugh inwardly cursed the ostentation that was delaying breakfast.

Impatiently he made the chief understand what was wanted, and that worthy proved an excellent substitute for the genii. He rushed over and bawled a few commands, and a dozen women and men sped away like the wind. A few moments later the chief entered the temple and found Ridgeway calmly measuring off the ground for the partitions that were to transform one room into three.

So apt was the white man at sign making and so apt was the brown man at understanding that before an hour had passed a dozen strong fellows were at work, carrying out the designs of the new idol, the morning meal having been disposed of in the meantime. Using the same kind of material that comprised the outer walls, a partition was constructed lengthwise through the centre of the temple. The front half was left as a reception hall and living room and the rear half was divided into two apartments, each fifteen feet square. They were to serve as sleeping rooms. These ruthless improvements made it necessary to remove the great stone idol from his pedestal.

"Chuck him out into the backyard," said Hugh. That evening the poor old image, as disgusted as a piece of rock could possibly be, was carried to the river and tossed into the rapids, his successors standing with the multitude on the high bank to witness his disappearance and to hear his unhappy kerplunk! The waters closed over his unhallowed head and the new dispensation began. Back across the little plain to the torch-lit village swarmed the fickle, joyous savages.

"Good Lord," observed Hugh, "what a ferocious crowd it is! They tear their enemies to pieces and yet we have them under our thumbs—for the present at least."

"I believe they are naturally intelligent, and I'm sure we can help them. Do you know what those white robes are made from?"

"Certainly. Cotton."

"It is woven grass. They bleach it. The women do the work down by the river, and the robes worn by their spearmen are really beautiful pieces of fabric."

"I am going to leave my measure for a pair of white grass trousers," said Hugh lightly, "and an umbrella," he added, looking up at the broiling sky.

Together the white usurpers planned many important improvements against the probability of a long stay among the savages. A wonderful system of sewerage was designed—and afterward carried out faithfully. A huge bath pool was to be sunk for Lady Tennys in the rear of her apartment; a kitchen and cold-storage cellar were to grow off the west end of the temple and a splendid awning was to be ordered for the front porch! Time and patience were to give them all of these changes. Time was of less consequence than patience, it may be well to add. The slaving retinue was willing but ignorant.

The adoring chief gave Tennys a group of ten handmaidens before the day was over, and Hugh had a constant body guard of twenty stalwarts—which he prosaically turned into carpenters, stone-masons, errand boys and hunters.

"You must not try to civilize them in a day," she smilingly protested when he became particularly enthusiastic.

"Well, just see what we have done to-day," he cried. "How can you account for the enforced abdication of old Uncle Rocksy, the transformation of his palace into a commodious, three-room lodging-house, and all such things, unless you admit that we are here to do as we please? We'll make a metropolitan place out of this hamlet in a year if we—"

"A year! Oh, don't suggest such a possibility," she cried. "I'd die if I thought we were to be here for a year."

"I hope we won't, but we may as well look the situation straight in the face. There has been no white man here before us. It is by the rarest chance in the world that we are here. Therefore, it may be years before we are found and taken away from this undiscovered paradise."

The flickering, fitful light of the torches stuck in the ground behind them played upon two white faces from which had fled the zeal and fervor of the moment before, leaving then drawn and dispirited.

"All our lives, perhaps," she murmured.

"With these savages as our only companions, worse than death a thousand times," he groaned, starting to his feet with the vehemence of new despair. "Could anything be worse than the existence that lies before us?"

"Yes," she cried, arising, throwing back her shoulders and arms, lifting her face and breathing long draughts of the cool, pure air. "Yes! The existence that lies behind is worse than the one ahead. No life can be worse than the one from which I have escaped. Welcome, eternal solitude! Farewell, ambition, heart-pangs and the vain mockery of womanhood! To be free is heaven, no matter what the cost, Hugh."

"Do you mean that you would rather live here forever than go back to the old life?"

"If I must stay here to be free, I am willing to live in this miserable village to the very end, rejoicing and not complaining."

"I never associated you with real unhappiness until you uttered that last sentence."

"I should not be selfish, though," she said quickly. "You are so unhappy, you have lost so much. We are to be alone here in this land, Hugh, you and I, forever. I will prove to you that I am more than the frail, helpless woman that circumstances may seem to have shaped me, and you shall have from me all the aid and encouragement that a good, true woman can give. Sometimes I shall be despondent and regretful,—I can't help it, I suppose—but I shall try with you to make the wilderness cheerful. Who knows but that we may be found by explorers within a month. Let us talk about our new subjects out there on the plain. How many of them are there in this village?"

She won him from the despondency into which he was sinking, and, be it said to her credit, she did not allow him to feel from that time forth that she was aught but brave, confident and sustaining. She was a weak woman, and she knew that if once the strong man succumbed to despair she was utterly helpless.



CHAPTER XXIV

NEDRA

The next month passed much more quickly than any previous month within the lives of the two castaways. Each day brought forth fresh novelties, new sensations, interesting discoveries. Her courage was an inspiration, a revelation to him. Despite the fact that their journeyings carried them into thick jungles where wild beasts abounded, she displayed no sign of fear. Jaunty, indifferent to danger, filled with an exhilaration that bespoke the real love for adventure common among English women, she traversed with him the forest land, the plains, the hills, the river, and, lastly, the very heart of the jungle. They were seldom apart from the time they arose in the morning until the hour when they separated at night to retire to their apartments.

Exploration proved that they were on an island of considerable dimensions, perhaps twenty miles long and nearly as wide. The only human inhabitants were those in the village of Ridgehunt, as the new arrivals christened it,—combining the first syllables of their own names. From the tops of the great gate posts, christened by Lady Tennys, far across the water to the north, could be seen the shadowy outlines of another island. This was inhabited by a larger tribe than that which constituted the population of Ridgehunt.

A deadly feud existed between the two tribes. There had been expeditions of war in the past, and for months the fighting men of Ridgehunt had been expecting an attack from the island of Oolooz. Nearly twenty miles of water separated the two islands. The attacking force would have to cover that distance in small craft. Shortly before the advent of the white people, King Pootoo's men captured a small party of scouts who had stolen across the main on a tour of exploration. They were put to death on the night of the arrival in Ridgehunt. A traitor in their midst had betrayed the fact that Oolooz contemplated a grand assault before many weeks had gone. Guards stationed on the summits of the gate posts constantly watched the sea for the approach of the great flotilla from Oolooz. King Pootoo had long been preparing to resist the attack. There were at least five hundred able-bodied men in his band, and Hugh could not but feel a thrill of admiration as he looked upon the fierce, muscular warriors and their ugly weapons.

He set about to drill them in certain military tactics, and they, believing him to be a god whom no enemy could overthrow, obeyed his slightest command. Under his direction breastworks were thrown up along the western hills, trenches were dug, and hundreds of huge boulders were carried to the summits overlooking the pass, through which the enemy must come in order to reach the only opening in the guerdon of the hills. It was his plan to roll these boulders from the steep crests into the narrow valley below just as the invaders charged through, wreaking not only disaster but disorder among them, no matter how large their force. There was really but one means of access by land to the rock-guarded region, and it was here that he worked the hardest during the fourth week of their stay among the savages.

He was working for his own and her safety and freedom. In Ridgehunt they were idols; in the hands of the unknown foe their fate might be the cruel reverse. Pride in the man who was to lead their brown friends to victory swelled in the heart of the fair Briton, crowding back the occasional fear that he might be conquered or slain. She had settled upon the course to pursue in case there was a battle and her protector fell. A dagger made from the iron-like wood used by the natives in the manufacture of spears and knives hung on the wall of her room. When he died, so should she, by her own hand.

Gradually they began to grasp the meaning of certain words in the native language. Hugh was able after many days to decide that the natives knew nothing of the outside world and, furthermore, that no ships came into that part of the sea on account of the immense number of hidden reefs. The island on which they had been cast bore a name which sounded so much like Nedra that they spelled it in that way. In course of time she christened the spots of interest about her. Her list of good English names for this utterly heathen community covered such places as Velvet Valley, Hamilton Hills, Shadburn Rapids, Ridgeway River, Veath Forest and others. Ridgeway gave name to the temple in which the natives paid homage to them. He called it Tennys Court.

Her room in the remodelled temple was a source of great delight to Lady Tennys. It was furnished luxuriously. There were couches, pillows, tables, chairs, tiger-skin rugs, and—window curtains. A door opened into her newly constructed bath pool, and she had salt or fresh water, as she chose. The pool was deep and clay lined and her women attendants were models of the bath after a few days. She learned the language much easier than Hugh. He was highly edified when she told him that his new name was Izor—never uttered without touching the head to the ground. Her name was also Izor, but she blushed readily when he addressed her as Mrs. Izor—without the grand curtsey. The five spearmen were in reality priests, and they were called Mozzos. She also learned that the chief who found them on the rock was no other than the mighty King Pootoo and that he had fifty wives. She knew the names of her women, of many children and of the leading men in the village.

The feeble sprout of Christianity was planted by this good British girl. It had appeared to be a hopeless task, but she began at the beginning and fought with Mercy as her lieutenant. Humanity was a stranger to these people when she found them, but she patiently sowed the seeds and hoped. A people capable of such idolatry as these poor wretches had shown themselves to be certainly could be led into almost any path of worship, she argued.

Late in the afternoon of their thirty-third day on the island the white idol of Nedra swung lazily in her hammock, which was stretched from post to post beneath the awning. Two willowy maidens in simple brown were fanning her with huge palm leaves. She was the personification of pretty indolence. Her dreamy eyes were turned toward the river and there was a tender, eager longing in their depths. Hugh was off in the hills with his workmen and the hour had passed for him to emerge from the woodland on his way to the village.

The shadows of night were beginning to settle upon the baking earth and a certain uneasiness was entering her bosom. Then she caught a glimpse of his figure in the distance. With his swarm of soldiers behind him he came from the forest and across the narrow lowlands toward the river. He steadfastly refused to be carried to and from the "fortifications" in the rude litter that had been constructed for him, a duplicate of which had been made for her. A native with a big white umbrella was constantly at his side and King Pootoo was in personal command of the workmen as "sub-boss." Ridgeway jocosely characterized his hundred workmen as "Micks," and they had become expert wielders of the wooden pick, shovel and crowbar. In the village there were the three hundred tired armorers who had worked all day among the hard saplings in the country miles to the south. It was their duty to make an inexhaustible supply of spears, swords, etc.

As the American came up over the bank of the river Lady Tennys could not repress a smile of pride. The white grass trousers, the huge white hat, and the jaunty military carriage had become so familiar to her that she could almost feel his approach before he came into view. It was always the same confident, aggressive stride, the walk of the master.

Although the sun had dropped behind the twin giants and the haze of the night was on, Hugh's faithful attendant carried the umbrella over his head. The new Izor said, more than once, that, having taught the fellow to carry the protector, he could not unteach him. Were it darkest midnight the umbrella was produced and carried with as much serenity as when the sun broiled and toasted at midday. When the returning band of laborers was half way across Velvet Valley, Tennys, as was her wont, left her hammock and went forth to meet the man beneath the white sunshade. His pace quickened and his face brightened as she drew near. The hatless, graceful figure in white came up to him with the cry:

"Why are you so late? Dinner has been waiting for an hour."

"Pshaw! And the cocoanuts are cold again," he cried with mock concern. She took his arm and they trudged happily through the deep grass on which the never-failing dew was already settling. "But we have finished the fortifications. By George, if those Ooloozers get through that valley they'll be fit to try conclusions with England and America combined. With four hundred men I can defend the pass against four thousand. To-morrow I'll take you over to see the defences. They're great, Tennys."

She dampened his enthusiasm somewhat.

"Won't it be an awful joke if the enemy doesn't come?"

"Joke! It will be a calamity! I'd be tempted to organize a fleet and go over after them. By the way, I have something fine for you."

"A letter from home?" she cried laughingly. "One would think so from the important way in which you announce it. What is it?"

"A pet—a wonder of a pet," he said. "Hey! Jing-a-ling, or whatever your name is, bring that thing up here." A native came running up from the rear bearing in his arms, a small, ugly cub, its eyes scarcely opened. She gave vent to a little shriek and drew back.

"Ugh! The horrid thing! What is it?"

"A baby leopard. He's to be our house cat."

"Never! I never saw an uglier creature in my life. What a ponderous head, what mammoth feet, and what a miserably small body! Where are the spots?"

"He gets 'em later, just as we get gray hairs—sign of old age, you know. And he outgrows the exaggerated extremities. In a few months he'll be the prettiest thing you ever saw. You must teach him to stand on his head, jump through a hoop, tell fortunes and pick out the prettiest lady in the audience, and I'll get you a position with a circus when we go to America. You'd be known on the bills as the Royal Izor of the Foofops and her trained leopard, the Only One in Captivity."

"You mean the only leopard, I presume," she smiled.

"Certainly not the only lady, for there are millions of them in that state."

They had their dinner by torchlight and then took their customary stroll through the village.

"There seems to be no one in the world but you and I," she said, a sudden loneliness coming over her.

"What a paradise this would be for the lover who vows that very thing to the girl he loves."

"Do lovers mean all that they say?" she asked laughingly.

"Very few know just what they say until it is too late. A test on an uncivilized island would bring reason to the doughtiest lover. There's no sentiment in cold facts."

"I don't see why two people, if they loved as you say they can love, should not be perfectly happy to live apart from the world. Do they not live only for each other?"

"That's before the test, you see."

"I have not found existence on this island altogether unendurable," she went on. "I am not in love, I'm cure, yet I am surprised to find myself contented here with you. Then why should not lovers find this a real paradise, as you say?"

"Would you be contented here with any other man as your companion?" he asked, his head suddenly swimming.

"Oh, no!" she cried decisively. "I don't believe I'd like it here with anybody but you. Now, don't look like that! I'm not such a fool as you may be thinking, Hugh. I know the world pretty well. I know how other people love, even though it has never been part of my lot. I'm not quite a hypocrite. I was not presented at court for nothing. You see, you are so good and we are such friends. It never occurred to me before, but I'm sure I couldn't endure being here with any other man I know. Isn't it queer I never thought of that?" she asked, in real wonder.

He looked at her steadily before answering. The flare of the torch revealed a childlike sincerity in her face, and he knew she did not realize the construction he might have been justified in according her impulsive confession. His heart throbbed silently. A wave of tenderness welled within him, bringing with it a longing to kiss the hem of her raiment, to touch her soft, black hair, to whisper gently in her ear, to clasp her hand, to do something fondly grateful.

"Are you quite sure of that?" he asked softly. She looked up into his eyes honestly, frankly, unwaveringly, pressing his arm with a smile of enthusiasm.

"Quite sure. Why not? Who could be better, more thoughtful, braver than you, and for the sake of a woman who, by mistake, owes her life to you? When you have done so much for me, why should I not say that you are the man I like best of all I know? It is strange, perhaps, that it should make any particular difference, but it seems to me no other man could inspire the feeling of resignation and contentment that you do. Really, it isn't so hard to live in the wilderness, is it?"

"Have you never known any one else with whom you could have been contented here?" he asked persistently.

"Oh, I don't know what other men would be like if they were in your place," she said. She appeared deeply thoughtful for some time, as if trying to imagine others of her acquaintance in Hugh's place. "I am sure I cannot imagine any one being just like you," she went on, conclusively.

"No one you may have loved?"

"I have never loved anybody," she cried.

"Do you know what love means?"

"I haven't the faintest conception," she laughed, mockingly.

"I believe you said that to me some time ago," he said.

"I wish I could love," she said lightly. "But I suppose the chance is forever lost if I am doomed to stay on this island all my life."

His smile was understood by the night.



CHAPTER XXV

THE COMING OF THE ENEMY

A fever of queer emotions plagued Hugh's mind as he sought sleep that night. He lay awake on his couch of skins for hours, striving to put from himself the delightful conviction that had presented itself so suddenly. Through all his efforts to convince himself that his impressions were the result of self-conceit or a too willing egotism, there persistently ran the tantalizing memory of her simple confession. When at last he slept it was to dream that a gentle hand was caressing his forehead and loving fingers were running through his hair. For a while the hand was Grace Vernon's, then it was Tennys Huntingford's, then Grace's, then the other's. Its touch brought a curve to his lips.

While he lay awake in these wondering hours and slept through the changing dream, the cause of his mingled emotions lay in the next apartment, peacefully asleep from the moment her head touched the pillow, totally unconscious of the minutest change in her heart or in their relationship, as contented as the night about her.

The next morning he was speculatively quiet and she was brightly talkative as they ate breakfast. He was awake when she took her refreshing plunge in the pool, and heard her conversing learnedly with her attendants, as if they understood all that she said—which they did not. It was then that he thought what a solitude life would be if she were not a part, of it. There was nothing in her manner to indicate that she remembered their conversation of the night before. In fact, it was apparent that she was wholly unconscious of the impression it had made.

Two of her white-robed attendants stood in the doorway while they ate, another industriously fanning them. The flowing white robes were innovations of the past few days, and their wearers were pictures of expressive resignation. Robes had been worn only by Mozzos prior to the revolution of customs inaugurated by the white Izor, and there was woeful tripping of brown feminine feet over treacherous folds.

"Those ghastly gowns remind me that this is the day for our flag raising," said he. "I guess the banner is strong enough to stand the winds that whistle around the tops of the gateposts, isn't it?"

Her thoughts reverted to the white signal that floated from the summit of the big mount at whose base they had been cast up from the sea. Hugh, having completed the meal, went to the end of the room, where, stretched along the wall, hung a huge American flag. Days had been consumed by the women in the manufacture of this piece of woven grass. He had created red stripes from an indelible berry stain. A blue background for the stars was ingeniously formed by cutting out spaces through which the sky could gleam. A strong pole lay on the floor and all was in readiness for the raising of the Stars and Stripes over the Island of Nedra. Their hope was that it might eventually meet the eye of some passing navigator.

"By the way, Hugh," she said, standing beside him, a trace of antagonism in her voice, "who discovered this island, a Briton or an American?"

"Why I—an American, of course! Great Scott! I—I certainly did, didn't I?" he exclaimed, aghast, gradually comprehending that she had a moral claim, at least.

"That is the question," she said simply.

He walked over and sat down rather heavily on one of the stone blocks.

"I saw it from the sea," he stammered.

"And so did I."

For some moments he sat gazing at the flag, actual distress in his eyes. She looked away and smiled faintly.

"I didn't think, Tennys; truly I did not. You have as much right to claim the discovery as I. Why have you not spoken of this before?"

"You seemed so happy over the flag that I couldn't, Hugh," she said, still looking away.

"Poor old flag! It's the first time you ever tried to wave dishonestly or where there was a doubt of your supremacy." He came to her side. "We'll have no flag raising."

"What!" she cried, strangely disappointed.

"Not until we have made a British flag to wave beside this one."

"I was jesting, Hugh, just to see what you would say. The flag shall go up. You—you are the master, as you should be, Hugh."

"You have as much right as I," he protested.

"Then I'll be an American," she cried. "We'll raise our flag."

"But you are not an American."

"Granting that I was the first to see the island, was I not under protection of an American? I have been under American protection ever since. What has Great Britain to do with the situation? I demand the protection of the Stars and Stripes. Will you deny me?" Her eyes were sparkling eagerly. "Could the British have landed had it not been for the American?"

"You really don't care?"

"This is our flag, Hugh," she said seriously. "It will make me unhappy if you continue to take my jest as an earnest. We made it and I shall be proud to have it wave over me."

A few hours later the Stars and Stripes floated high over a new island of the sea, far from the land of its birth.

"How good and grand it looks," she cried as they saw it straighten to the breeze. "After all, it may be waving over its own, Hugh. The United States bought several thousands of islands in this section of the world, I've heard," she added, with a touch of irony.

"It's the flag I love," he cried. "May God let me kiss once more the soil she calls home. Dear America!"

From that day he never looked at the dancing, wriggling stripes without a surge of emotion. Its every flaunt seemed to beckon brave worshippers from far across the sea to the forlorn island on which it was patiently waving.

An uneventful week passed. A Nedrite who had escaped from the Island of Oolooz brought word to King Pootoo that the enemy was completing preparation for a stupendous assault, but a close watch on the sea failed to reveal signs of the approach. Ridgeway and his eager followers were fully prepared for the assault. The prospect was now assuming the appearance of a European war cloud—all talk and no fight. But as King Pootoo insisted in vague earnestness that the informer was trustworthy, precautionary measures were not relaxed at any time. Hugh was now the possessor of a heavy sword made of the metallic-like wood. It had two edges and resembled an old-fashioned broadsword.

"I feel like a Saumeri," he announced.

When he found that fairly sharp blades could be wrought from this timber, he had knives and hatchets made for private use, his own trusty pocket knife being glorified by promotion. He whetted the blade to the keenest possible edge and used it as a razor. Tennys compelled him to seek a secluded spot for his, weekly shave, decreeing that the morals of the natives should not be ruined in their infancy by an opportunity to acquire first-class, fully developed American profanity.

Many of their evenings, delightfully cool in contrast with the intense heat of the day, were spent on the river. The largest canoe of the village was fitted out with a broad, comfortable seat in the stern, upon which it was possible to recline lazily while several strong-armed natives paddled the craft through the shimmering, moonlit waters above the rapids.

One evening, a month after the raising of the flag, they came from the river, the night having been the most perfect they had seen, dark, sombre, picturesque. The moon was hidden behind the banks of clouds, which foretold the coming of rain, yet there was a soft, exquisite glow on land and water, as if blue-black tints were being cast from aloft by some mysterious, experimenting artist among the gods. It had been a quiet, dreamy hour for both. As they walked slowly across the little plain, followed by the oarsmen, they became cognizant of an extraordinary commotion in the village. Pootoo and a dozen men came running toward them excitedly.

"What's up, I wonder?" cried Hugh.

"It is the enemy. I know they have been sighted," she exclaimed breathlessly.

And she was right. Just before sunset the guard at the top of the gatepost had sighted the canoes of the invaders, far to the north. According to the king, to whom the flying messenger had come, there were myriads of canoes and they were headed for a part of the beach about three leagues north of the village. It was the best place for landing along the entire coast and was, besides, the point nearest the home of the coming foe. It was evident that the enemy had miscalculated. They came within eye range of the island before darkness set in. A half an hour later and it would have been impossible to discern the boats in the gloom. By merest chance their arrival was betrayed.

"Thank God, they can't surprise us," cried Hugh after he had learned all. He was mad with excitement, burning with eagerness for the fray.

The possibility of defeat, did not enter his head, so sure was he that he and his warriors could overthrow the invaders. His brain was filled with the hope that he might some day tell the story of this battle to the fellows at his club in Chicago. He could imagine himself sitting with his heels on the window seat, relating to envious listeners the details of the fight in the pass, the repulsing of the enemy, the chase to the shore; the annihilation and—but no time was to be lost in dreaming of the future when the imperative present demanded so much of him.

At his side hurried the distressed, trembling young Englishwoman, her heart almost paralyzed with fear. Two or three times she tried to speak to him; once she timidly, though frantically, sought to grasp his hand to stay him in his excited rush toward the temple. Up to this moment she had been brave, even confident; now a weakness assailed her and every vestige of courage was gone. But one thought filled her mind: the possibility of disaster befalling Hugh Ridgeway.

They reached the temple and he dashed inside, going direct to his room, where the sword and daggers hung. She sank weakly upon one of the big blocks in the long corridor, leaning her head against the partition, breathing heavily, hopelessly. He, unconscious of the pain she was suffering, began to whistle joyously as he bustled about.

"Tennys," he called, "do you know what has become of my shield?"

"It is out here," she answered shrilly, her voice pitched high with the tension imposed. He came forth, tossing his sword on the ground at her feet, hastily taking the shield from a peg in the wall.

"Say, we won't see a live Ooloozer for a hundred years after the fight," he exploded exuberantly. "Is my army out there in front?"

"Hugh," she said piteously, following him about in the hall, "it isn't necessary for you to accompany them."

"Oh, great Scott! I wouldn't miss it for a million. I'm the biggest pig in the puddle," stopping to look at her in amazement.

"But it isn't your—our war, Hugh. Why do you risk so much? They may kill you and then—then what will become of me?"

In an instant his hilarity subsided and deep solicitude came in its stead, every particle of tenderness in his heart asserting itself in response to the rueful appeal. There was a queer rushing of blood to his head, a dizziness, a great thrumming against, the drums of his ears, from all of which sprung, like lightning, the remembrance of his suspicions concerning her feelings toward him.

"You are not worried, are you? Why, there's no danger, not the slightest. We've got them whipped before the fight. I didn't think you'd lose courage. You've been so brave and confident all the time." He took her hands in his own and looked tenderly down into the wavering eyes of blue.

"It is dreadful, Hugh. I never knew how dreadful until now. I cannot bear to see you go out there to-night, perhaps never to come back. I shall die if you go!"

"But I must go, Tennys," he said firmly. "I'd rather die than be a coward. Your fears are utterly ridiculous."

His rather petulant speech caused her to withdraw her hands, her wide eyes sending a glance of wounded pride up into his. That look of reproach haunted him the whole night long. Even in the next moment he sought to withdraw the unintentional sting from his words by the gentle reminder that he would come back to her a victor and that she would be proud of him. Still the hurt eyes looked into his.

"I—I did not mean to interfere, Hugh. You must pay no attention to me. I was selfish and absurdly afraid," she said, a trace of coldness in her voice, her manner entirely altered.

"Any woman might well be afraid at such a time," he said quickly.

"I am not afraid for myself. It is not the kind of cowardice you think it is."

"You just now wondered what would become of you if I were killed," he ventured.

"I know what will become of me if the worst should come. But I must not keep you standing here. There is much for you to do and much for me to do. You shall never again say that I am not brave. Go and fight, Hugh, and when you bring home the wounded I shall have a place to care for them all." All this was spoken rapidly and in high-pitched tones. He moved slowly toward the door, not knowing what to say or how to act at parting.

"I'll be back all right, Tennys," he said at last. "Would you care very much if—if I never came back?"

"Oh, Hugh!" was her wail. "How can you ask? What would it mean to me to be left here all alone? If you would have me brave, do not ask such questions. Go, Hugh. Good-by!"

He grasped her hand, wrung it spasmodically, glanced once in her eyes and was off toward the horde of warriors congregating in the field.

Lady Tennys steadied her swaying figure against the doorpost and looked out upon the preparations for departure. The light in her eyes had died.



CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE EVE OF BATTLE

Ridgeway looked at his watch as he drew up to the torch bearers. It was then ten minutes after ten o'clock. In all probability the entire force of the enemy had landed upon the coast and was already on its way toward the village. He realized that these savages, friend and foe, knew nothing of the finer stratagems of warfare. Their style of fighting was of the cruel kind that knows no science, no quarter. A new commander had come to revolutionize the method of warfare for at least one of the armies. It was to be a case of strategy and a new intelligence against superior forces and a surprised ferocity.

He was somewhat amazed to find that none of his troopers had attempted to leave the village before he was there to lead. This, when he thought of the eagerness and bloodthirstiness of the men, was certainly a fair promise of submissiveness on the field of battle. To be sure, the restraint was almost unendurable to the fierce fellows who had caught up their shields and spears long before he came in from the river. The excitement was intense, the jabbering frightful. Here, there, everywhere danced the frantic warriors, tossing their weapons in the air and screaming with a loyalty that savored very much of impotent rage.

"Heavens, I'd give little for a man's life if he crossed these devils to-night," thought Hugh as King Pootoo detached himself from the horde and raced unmajestically over to meet him, almost, forgetting to prostrate himself in his frenzy. Grossly exaggerated by the flare of the torches, the spectacle was enough to strike terror to the strongest heart. The king subdued himself sufficiently to grasp the meaning of Hugh's signs and set about to bring order out of chaos—a difficult task for even a king. Gradually the excitement subsided and the band stood at rest, awaiting the command to move to the hills across the river. They reminded Hugh of dogs he had seen. We all have held a chunk of meat high above a dog's nose and we have seen him sit in enforced patience, hoping for the fall thereof. And we all know that after a certain time he will throw patience to the winds and leap frantically upward in the effort to secure the prize.

A force of fully one hundred young fellows was to be left in the village as a guard against disaster in case the enemy should force its way through the pass. Lady Tennys was to have a bodyguard, even though it crippled the fighting force at the front. The men comprising this reserve did not relish the plan, but their objections were relentlessly overruled by the white Izor and King Pootoo. With sulky heads they seated themselves as directed near the temple they were to protect with their lives.

It required but a few minutes of time for Ridgeway to find that his little army was ready to move. After some hesitation he went to the temple door to bid farewell to his fellow-castaway. She was still leaning against the doorpost and did not move as he approached.

"We're off now," he said as he came up. "Don't worry, little woman; we'll come home victorious as sure as fate. See these fellows? They are your guard, your own soldiers. You can command them to do as you wish."

"Mine?" she asked slowly, as if not comprehending.

"Yes; they are the Lady Tennys Reserves," he said, smiling. A glad light suddenly broke in her eyes, her face brightened and her whole mien changed from despair to delight.

"Thank you, Hugh. I shall never forget you for this. You will never know how happy I am to have these men to do my bidding. If it is necessary I will show you that a woman of England can fight as valiantly as her brothers, the bravest men in all the world." In her eyes there were tears as she uttered these words,—tears of courage and pride.

"Would that I could have you by my side all through this fight. There is an inspiration in your very gentleness that could make me do prodigious deeds of valor. But, good-by, Tennys! I'll be back for lunch to-morrow!" he cried as he dashed away. He could look into those swimming eyes no longer and restrain a certain impulse that was trying to force him into the liberation of an entirely unnecessary bit of sentiment.

"Good-by, Hugh! Don't be careless. What will the Reserves be worth to me if you are killed? I shall pray for you, Hugh—every minute of this awful night I shall pray for you."

"God bless you," he called back from Velvet Valley, his brain whirling with the wish that he had kissed her and the fear of the result had he made the attempt.

A few minutes later he sent his jacket back to the temple. It was his most valued possession. Had he seen the look of tenderness in her eyes as she hold up the worn, blue jacket; had he seen her kiss the blue cloth impulsively, he would have been thrilled to the bone. But had he been there to observe the startled, mystified blush that rose to her brow when she found that she had really kissed his coat, he might have been as perplexed as she over the unusual act.

With heart beating violently and nerves strung to their highest tension, Ridgeway led the way to the river. He was as confident of victory as if he were returning from the pass with the result out of doubt. Reaching the river, his men plunged into the water and swam across, not waiting for the canoes. He and the king were rowed over, meeting the swimmers as they came up from the bank, dripping and puffing. Again the march was resumed, and within fifteen minutes the band was at the foot of the hills. Here Hugh called a halt.

With Pootoo and a dozen men he went forward to take a look down the long gorge. All torches were extinguished and absolute silence was enforced. The scouting party failed to hear a sound except the cries of night birds and their own heavy breathing. All nature seemed to be resting for the struggle that was to come.

Six fleet fellows were sent over the hills to skirt the edge of the pass for its full length, a mile or more. They were to wait at the opposite end until the enemy revealed its approach and then hurry back with the alarm. Returning to the waiting army, Hugh and the king began the work of assigning the men to their places. Two hundred were stationed in the trenches and behind the breastworks at the mouth of the pass, ready to intercept those of the enemy who succeeded in escaping the boulders and spears from the hilltops. These men stacked their spears behind them and then, at the command of the king, who had been instructed by the Izor, laid themselves upon the ground to sleep. This was an innovation in warfare so great that open rebellion was threatened. The novices in civilized and scientific fighting were fully convinced that the enemy was nowhere in sight and that they would be called when the proper moment came.

Then came the manning of the four hundred boulders on the top of the hills. All along the line of heavy rocks men were stationed with instructions to roll them into the pass when the signal was given, Both sides of the pass were lined with these boulders, The king was as near in ecstasies over the arrangements as one of his nature could possibly be. He prostrated himself a dozen times before the wonderfully clever genius who was in command, twice bumping his head against exceedingly hard rocks that he had been unable to see when he began his precipitous collapse to reverence.

It was after midnight before the army in ambush was ready for the conflict. Hugh was amazed to find the men cool and submissive, obeying every order that he managed in some way to convey to them. With everything in readiness there was nothing to do but to wait for the crisis, so he threw himself on the grass at the top of the highest point on the ridge near the opening to the valley, and tried to sleep.

While he reclined there, thinking of a sweet-faced woman and her Reserves, fully eighteen hundred warriors were stealthily coming up from the sea. Six wakeful sentinels were waiting for them.



CHAPTER XXVII

THE LADY TENNYS RESERVES

The night passed. One, two, three o'clock went by on the trip to sunrise. Hugh dozed at times despite the strain on his nerves. When at last he arose to stretch himself, he saw the faint gray meeting and mingling with the black in the skies, and knew that the crisis was almost at hand.

Swiftly, silently through the darkness came six forms, hurrying from the distant end of the pass with the alarm. They sped into the presence of the king and Hugh just as the first gleam of light began to make itself visible in the east. The messengers had seen the enemy, by that time entering the pass from the north. In an instant Hugh's little army was in a state of wild perturbation. One could have heard the gnashing of teeth had he walked among the groups receiving final orders from King Pootoo. Silence reigned again—the silence of death.

Something that sounded like the heavy breathing of a man came to the ears of the waiters. It was the sweep of naked feet over the pebbly, sandy bottom of the pass, the cautious movement of bodies through the air, sounds growing plainer until they resembled the rustling of grass through which a snake is gliding. To Hugh the intense moments seemed like hours. Would they never come to view? Would the ambush succeed? Why were they so slow? He could have gone ten miles while they were covering the scant mile, he swore in his fever of anxiety.

At last the king pointed excitedly down the dark gulch, and, for the first time, Ridgeway realized that he was facing an enemy in battle. His eyes did not blink, so intently were they glued upon the dim, uncertain objects that moved in the distance. The sword at his side was gripped in a fierce but unconscious grasp. He placed his hand over his throbbing heart; a damp chill seemed to break through every pore in his body.

"In five minutes this place will be hell!" he muttered, and the king looked at him inquiringly.

Slowly the moving mass resolved itself into a thousand entities, swarming towards the opening at the end of the pass. It required all of his coolness and self-possession to control the wild impulse to begin the fight long before the proper moment. To his surprise, not one of his men moved from his position.

In advance of the main body of invaders was a small detachment of scouts. Hugh saw that they would reach the trenches ahead of the army and that the trap would be revealed. His heart almost failed him as he looked down upon that now distinguishable mass crowding up through the gorge. There seemed to be thousands of them, strapping, fierce, well-armed savages. Their spears looked not unlike a field of dancing cornstalks.

It was necessary to check the little advance guard before the plans could go amiss. Ridgeway, suddenly calm and deliberate, despatched the king with instructions to have his men spear the scouts as they came up, driving them back. Pootoo wriggled stealthily to the breastworks below, reaching the position a few moments ahead of the Oolooz squad. Perhaps one hundred yards behind this detail came the swarm of battle men. There was something in the advance that suggested a cat stealing upon an unsuspecting bird.

By this time it was quite light, although sunrise was half an hour away. In the gray, phantom-producing gloom Hugh could see his own men behind the boulders, awaiting his command. A sudden shriek broke on the stillness, causing him to leap as if some one had struck him violently. Then there was a succession of yells and the rushing of feet. He glanced nervously toward the trenches. A dozen Oolooz men were flying back toward the main body, while not a sign of Pootoo or his men was visible. They had delivered a few spears and had dropped back into the trench.

The main body in the pass swayed and jammed in the effort to halt, but the rear pushed forward so clamorously that the whole mass rolled up the ravine fairly into the death trap before it began to understand the meaning of the yells and the sudden retreat of the scouts.

"Now is the time," thought the American. His tall form sprang from behind the tree at the edge of the little cliff. His white face was whiter than ever, his eyes flashed, his long frame quivered. Up went his sword arm and loud came the cry from his lips:

"Fire!"

As if by magic two long rows of immutable boulders wabbled for a second and then thundered down the hillside, while ten score of wild, naked human beings sent up yells of horrid glee to the unveiling dome above.

No pen can describe the flight of those death-dealing rocks as they bounded over the sharp declivities, gaining speed with each revolution, scattering earth, gravel and underbrush with the force of a cyclone, leaping at last with a crushing roar into the very midst of the stupefied army. There was a sickening, grinding crash, an instant of silence, then the piteous wails and groans and the spectacle of a writhing, rolling, leaping, struggling mixture of human forms. Almost as the first volley of rocks left its position to roll upon the vanguard of the ambushed horde, the howling devils on the hill tops were scurrying toward the second row, farther to the right. Down poured this second storm of rocks, increasing the panic below, literally slaughtering the helpless wretches by the score.

Ridgeway looked upon this scene of destruction as if fascinated. He was powerless to move. He had not dreamed that his trap could produce such a havoc. The bottom of the pass was strewn with grovelling, shrieking bodies, trampled beneath the feet of their uninjured but insane companions. Dead and wounded, crushed and maimed, made up the surging humanity in the fatal pass. The rocks had mowed them down. Devastation had come like lightning from the skies. It was horrible!

Closing his eyes, he turned away, utterly sick. A moment later he glanced about, hearing the victorious, eager savages on the heights screeching like madmen. From all sides they were swarming toward him, concentrating for the swoop down the hillside at his command. He was awakened to action, his mind grasped the importance of immediate decision and he was entirely recovered from his momentary palsy. One particular feature of the horrid scene lingered in his memory till his dying day. The surprised Oolooz men, not knowing whence came the foe or the nature of the charge down the hills, had quietly turned their spears to receive the onslaught, expecting men instead of rocks. He never forgot the brief stand they made.

At first he believed that all had been killed—that the battle was over before it began. But even as he turned for another pitying glance below, the recovered foemen started up the hillside, shouting and screaming with rage. The ground was covered with prostrate or crawling forms, yet, to his amazement, there still seemed to be thousands of vigorous, uninjured warriors.

"Good Lord! There are a million!" he shouted. Leaping forward, he swung his sword on high and with every nerve aquiver he cried:

"Fire!"

It was the only command he had taught them. It meant fight, pure and simple. Across the gulch the command could not be heard, but the men over there were only too glad to follow the example set by their comrades, and from both sides a perfect storm of spears hissed through the air.

Up from the rear rushed scores of Oolooz warriors. Despite the vicious attack they crowded steadily up the hillside toward the crest on which stood Hugh and his practically unbroken front. Through some sort of natural generalship they confined their charge to the hills on one side of the pass. Ridgeway saw this with alarm. He knew that they would eventually force their way to the top. Yet the spears from above mowed down the climbing savages like tenpins, while their weapons did little or no damage. With each distinct volley from above the advancing foe fell back, but rallied like heroes. By this time hundreds of them were down; broad daylight made the pass look like a slaughter pen.

Ridgeway ran among his men, urging them to stand firm, to beat back the foe, and they responded with an ardor that was nothing less than fiendishness itself. Their spears were unerringly thrown, but the supply was diminishing; it was the question of a very few minutes before they would be without ammunition. Hugh's hope lay in the possibility that the foe would soon retreat, believing itself unable to cope with an adversary whose numbers were unknown and who held such an advantageous position.

He soon saw that he would have to quickly withdraw his men from the hill after one of the temporary repulses, taking them to the trench at the mouth of the pass. Almost as he was forming this plan, he realized that it would be necessary to carry it out at once.

Far down the pass, beyond his line, the enemy came swarming up the undefended slope, steep as it was, and some of the foremost were already scrambling over the last few feet intervening. He yelled to the men, pointing to the danger spot and then toward the trenches, making a sign immediately thereafter to deliver a telling volley into the struggling ranks.

The savages seemed to understand, and he devoutly thanked God, for they sent a shower of spears into the horde and then dashed helter-skelter in the direction of the trenches where lay the king and two hundred men. Wild yells of triumph came from behind, and long before the descent to the valley was reached by the fleeing white man and his dusky army, the Ooloozers were pouring into the tree-covered summit like so many sheep.

Down the hill sped Hugh and his men. Pootoo saw them coming and waved his spear frantically. As the retreating army rolled headlong into the trenches and behind the breastworks, the enemy arrived at the crest of the hill. Breathlessly Hugh motioned for Pootoo to call the men from the opposite hill into action at once.

A volley of spears shot into and over the trenches, followed by a whirlwind of the long, slender messengers of death, several of them taking effect. Pootoo's men returned the volley from behind the breastworks, but the rampant chargers were not to be checked. Up to the very edge of the trench they rushed, and from that moment it does not lie within the power of the writer to depict the horrors of the conflict in detail. Hugh's men, well protected and well armed, hurled death into the ranks, of the fearless enemy as it crowded to the high breastworks. And out from the mouth of the pass poured the mass of Ooloozers who had not ascended the hill.

Ridgeway, cutting viciously away at the black bodies as they plunged against the wall behind which they stood, felt the spears crash against his shield, heard them hiss past, saw them penetrate the earthworks all about him. At another time he would have wondered how he and his men could hope to withstand such an onslaught. One thing he did have time to observe, and that was the surprise, consternation, even fear that came into the enraged faces of the assaulting savages when they saw him plainly. They were looking for the first time on the face of a white man—the new god of their enemies.

A sudden change in the tide of battle, though brief, transferred the brunt of conflict to another quarter. A withering rain of spears struck the enemy on the flank and rear, and down from the opposite hilltop rushed the mob that had formed the other boulder squad at the beginning of the fight, but who had done nothing after the first charge of the Oolooz men up the hill. They threw themselves upon the enemy and were soon lost in the boiling mass. Gaining fresh courage and a renewed viciousness, the men in the trenches forsook the shelter and poured into the open, Hugh being powerless to check them.

"It is all over," groaned he, when he saw his crazy forces jump into the very centre of the seething mass. With a white man's shrewdness he remained behind the friendly breastworks, a dozen of his warriors fighting by his side. Repeated rushes against his position were broken by the desperate resistance of this small company. Hugh's heavy sword was dripping with blood; it had beaten in the skull of many a foe, had been driven beneath the shields and through the bodies of others. To him it seemed hours instead of minutes since the battle began; his arm was growing tired, his brain was whirling, his body was dripping with perspiration. Still his blood boiled and surged with savage enjoyment; he was now yelling with the same frenzy that filled the wild men; pure delight grew out of the fall of every opponent that went down under his sword.

At last the Oolooz leader, a blood-covered savage as large as Pootoo, led his men up to the breastworks, driving the defenders into the trenches and down the gentle slope. Triumph was theirs apparently, and their yelling was full of it. But inch by inch Pootoo fought them back. Once the king looked helplessly at Hugh, as if praying for him as a god to exert his influence in the unequal struggle. That glance was one of entreaty, surprise, but Hugh could also see disgust in it. It stung him strangely.

Although he had fought and killed more men than any one on either side, perhaps, he had not gone forth from behind the breastworks; he was not out in the thick of it. With a yell of encouragement to the men, he flung himself over the little wall, alighting on the soft body of a corpse. With his supporters at his heels he dashed to the king's side. Inside of two minutes he was struck in the leg by a spear, his hand was cut by a glancing blow from a club and his shield arm was battered so fearfully that it required an effort to hold it in front of his body. Blood streamed into his eyes and down his breast, his arms grew weak, his blows were feeble, his knees trembled, and he was ready to drop. Twice he went to his knees only to stagger to his feet again. Three times Pootoo's mighty club beat down warriors who were about to brain him.

His mind was chaotic, filled with the now certain defeat and the heart-breaking thought that Lady Tennys would be left to the mercies of the victors. Tears were mingling with the blood; his very soul was crying for strength, for hope, for salvation. In his din-stricken ears ran that wail: "What will become of me if you are killed?" Her face seemed to float in front of his eyes, her voice came trembling and lulling and soft through the hellish sounds, piercing the savagery with gentle trustfulness, urging him to be brave, strong and true. Then Grace Vernon's dear face, dim and indistinct, lured him forward into the strife, her clear voice, mingling with the plaintive tones of the other, commanding him to come to her. He must win! He must win!

But the great horde of Oolooz warriors were at last breaking down the smaller force and all seemed lost.

Suddenly new life sprang up among the battered defenders. Joyous yells bespoke a favorable turn of the tide. The enemy fell slowly back, relinquishing the vantage gained. Far behind Ridgeway's fainting form there arose the shouts of fresh factors in the fight.

He fell against the embankment and slowly turned his eyes toward the river. Once more Pootoo's gigantic weapon saved his defenceless head from the blow of an eager antagonist, but the white man knew naught of his escape. His dazed eyes saw only the band of warriors flying over the plain toward the field of battle. Far in their rear came a fluttering white form.

Hardly was he able to realize that help was at hand before the released, ferocious young fellows who had been left behind to guard her Ladyship were plunging over the breastworks all about him.

The Reserves to the rescue!

Exaltation, glorious and strength-giving, flushed through him and he leaped again into the fray. The new hope had come. He was once more battling with a mighty vigor. Fury reigned for a moment and then came the stampede. Down the little valley fled the foe, the conquerors in mad pursuit.



He was unable to follow, but his heart glowed with joy as he staggered blindly toward the earthworks. As he fell, half fainting, against the bloody bank, the agonized figure in white flew up to the opposite side.

"Hugh, Hugh," she wailed, burying her face in her hands. "They have killed you! Let them kill me!"

"Oh, it's—nothing—" he gasped, trying to smile. "I'm all right, little woman, but—you—got—here—just—in—time! Didn't I say—get—home—for—lunch—or something—like—that?"

And he knew no more.



CHAPTER XXVIII

TO THE VICTOR BELONGS—?

It was a month before Ridgeway was able to leave his couch and to sit beneath the awning in front of the temple. Not that he had been so severely wounded in the battle of June thirtieth, but that his whole system had collapsed temporarily.

After the first terrible fear, Tennys gave herself entirely to the task of caring for him. Night and day she watched, worked, and prayed over the tossing sufferer. In seasons of despair, created by the frequent close encroachments of death, she experienced dreams that invariably ended with the belief that she heard his dying gasps. Until she became thoroughly awake and could hear the movements of the two savages who sat faithfully in the next room with their Izor, her heart was still with a terror so depressing that it well-nigh drove her mad.

The wounds in his legs and side were closed and the great bruises on his back and head were reduced. When he, faint and weak, began to understand what was going on about him, he saw the face of one of the two women over whom he had raved in his delirium. In the hours when death seemed but a step away he had plaintively called for Grace and then for Tennys. A strange gladness filled the heart of the one beside him when he uttered the unconscious appeal to her. Sometimes she found herself growing red over the things he was saying to her in his ravings; again she would chill with the tender words that went to Grace. Then came the day when he saw and knew her. Often in the days of his convalescence she would start from a reverie, certain that she heard him call as he did in delirium, only to sink back and smile sadly with the discovery that she had been dreaming.

The village of Ridgehunt was a great hospital for weeks after the fight. Lady Tennys herself had ordered the dead to be buried in the trenches. For the first time in the history of the island the Oolooz men had been beaten. She spent many hours in telling Hugh of the celebrations that followed the wonderful achievements.

"There is one thing about our friends that I have not told you, Hugh," she said one night as they sat under the awning. "You have been so weak that I feared the shock might hurt you."

"You think of my comfort always," he said gratefully.

"You never knew that they brought a number of prisoners to the village and—and—oh, it is too horrible to tell you."

"Brought them to the village? What for?"

"They intended to eat them," she said, shuddering.

"Great Scott! They are not cannibals?"

"I couldn't believe it until I saw them making ready for their awful feast out there. I shall never be able to eat meat again. Alzam brought me a piece of the horrid stuff. They executed the prisoners before I could interfere."

"Oh, that's too horrible!"

"Sick and terrified, I went among the men who were dancing about the feast they were ready to devour, and, assuming a boldness I did not feel, commanded them to desist. The king was bewildered at first, then chagrined, but as I threatened him ferociously—"

"I should have enjoyed seeing you ferocious."

"He called the brutes away and then I gave orders to have every one of the bodies buried. For several days after that, however, the men were morose and ugly looking, and I am sure it was hard for them to submit to such a radical change."

"Talk about missionaries! You are a wonder!"

"I could not have done it as a missionary, Mr. Ridgeway. It was necessary for me to exert my authority as a goddess."

"And so they are cannibals," he mused, still looking at her spirited face.

"Just think what might have happened to us," she said.

That night as he lay on his couch he was forced to admit that the inconsolable grief that had borne down so heavily upon him at first was almost a part of the past. The pain inspired by the loss of a loved one was being mysteriously eased. He was finding pleasure in a world that had been dark and drear a few short months before. He was dimly conscious of a feeling that the companionship of Tennys Huntingford was beginning to wreak disaster to a supposedly impregnable constancy.

Tears came to his eyes as he murmured the name of the girl who had sailed so blithely from New York with his love as her only haven. He called himself the basest of wretches, the most graceless of lovers. He sobbed aloud at last in his penitence, and his heart went back to the night of the wreck. His love went down to the bottom of the sea, craving a single chance to redeem itself before the one it had wounded and humiliated. Before he fell asleep his conscience was relieved of part of its weight and the strong, sweet face of Grace Vernon passed from his vivid thoughts into vague dreams.

In the next apartment tranquilly slept the disturber, the trespasser in the fields of memory, the undoer of a long-wrought love. He had tried to learn the way to her heart, wondering if she cared for him as he had more than once suspected. In pursuing this hazardous investigation he had learned nothing, had seen nothing but perfect frankness and innocence, but had become more deeply interested than he knew until this night of recapitulation.

One night, two or three after he had thrown off the delirium, he heard her praying in her room, softly, earnestly. Of that prayer one plea remained in his memory long after her death: "Oh, God, save the soul of Grace Vernon. Give to her the fulness of Thy love. If she be still alive, protect and keep her safe until in Thy goodness she may be restored to him who mourns for her. Save and bless Hugh Ridgeway."

The days and weeks went by and Hugh grew well and strong. To Tennys he was not the same Hugh as of old. She perceived a change and wondered. One day at sundown he sat moodily in front of the temple. She was lying in the hammock near by. There had been one of the long, and to her inexplicable, silences. He felt that her eyes were upon him and knew that they were wistful and perplexed.

Try as he would, he could not keep his own eyes in leash; something irresistible made him lift them to meet her gaze. For a moment they looked at each other in a mute search for something neither was able to describe. He could not hold out against the pleading, troubled, questioning eyes, bent so solemnly upon his own. The wounds in her heart, because of his indifference, strange and unaccountable to her, gaped in those blue orbs.

A tremendous revulsion of feeling took possession of him; what he had been subduing for weeks gained supremacy in an instant. He half rose to his feet as if to rush over and crush her in his arms, but a mightier power than his emotion held him back. That same unseen, mysterious power compelled him to turn about and almost run from the temple, leaving her chilled and distressed by his action. The power that checked him was Memory.

She was deeply hurt by this last impulsive exhibition of disregard. A bewildering sense of loneliness oppressed her. He despised her! All the world grew black for her. All the light went out of her heart. He despised her! There was a faintness in her knees when she essayed to arise from the hammock. A little cry of anguish left her lips; a hunted, friendless look came into her eyes.

Staggering to the end of the temple, she looked in the direction he had taken. Far down the line of hills she saw him standing on a little elevation, his back toward her, his face to the river. Some strong influence drew her to him. Out of this influence grew the wild, unquenchable desire to understand. Hardly realizing what she did, she hurried through the growing dusk toward the motionless figure. As she came nearer a strange timidity, an embarrassment she had never felt before, seized upon her and her footsteps slackened.

He had not seen her. A panicky inclination to fly back to the temple came over her. In her heart welled a feeling of resentment. Had he any right to forget what she had done for him?

He heard her, turned swiftly, and—trembled in every joint. They were but a few paces apart and she was looking unwaveringly into his eyes.

"I have followed you out here to ask why you treat me so cruelly," she said after a long silence which she Bought to break but could not. He distinguished in this pathetic command, meant to be firm and positive, the tremor of tears.

"I—I do not treat you cruelly, Tennys," he answered disjointly, still looking at the slight, graceful figure, as if unable to withdraw his eyes.

"What do you call it?" she asked bitterly.

"You wrong me—" he began.

"Wrong you? No, I do not. You saved me from the sea and you have done much for me until within the past few weeks. I had begun to forget that I am here because fate substituted me for another. Hugh, do not let your love for Grace and your regret at not having saved her turn you against me. I am not here because I could have helped it. You must know that I—"

"For Heaven's sake, Tennys, don't talk like that! The trouble is that I do not regret having saved you. That's why you see the change in me—that's why I've hurt you. I cannot be to you what I would be—I cannot and be true to myself," he cried fiercely.

"What do you mean? Why are you so unhappy, Hugh? Have I hurt you?' she asked, coming quite close in sudden compassion.

"Hurt me!" he exclaimed. "You will kill me!" She paled with the thought that he was delirious again or crazed from the effects of the fever.

"Don't say that, Hugh. I care more for you than for any one in the world. Why should I hurt you?" she asked tenderly, completely misunderstanding him.

"You don't mean to, but you do. I have tried to conquer it but I cannot. Don't you know why I have forced myself to be unhappy during the past few weeks? Can't you see why I am making you unhappy, too, in my struggle to beat down the something that has driven everything else out of my mind?"

"Don't talk so, Hugh; it will be all right. Come home now and I will give you some wine and put some cool bandages on your head. You are not well." She was so gentle, so unsuspecting that he could contain himself no longer.

"I love you—I worship you! That is why I am cruel to you!" he burst out. A weakness assailed him and he leaned dizzily against the tree at his side. He dared not look at her, but he marvelled at her silence. If she loved him, as he believed, why was she so quiet, so still?

"Do you know what you say?" she asked slowly.

"I have said it to myself a thousand times since I left you at the temple. I did not intend to tell you; I had sworn you should never know it. What do you think of me?"

"I thought you called it love that sent you to Manila," she said wonderingly, wounding without malice.

"It was love, I say. I loved her better than all the world and I have not forgotten her. She will always be as dear to me as she was on the night I lost her. You have not taken her place. You have gone farther and inspired a love that is new, strange, overpowering—infinitely greater, far different from the love I had known before. She was never to me what you are. That is what drives me mad—mad, do you hear? I have simply been overwhelmed by it."

"I must be dreaming," she murmured.

"I have tried to hide it from myself, but it has broken down all barriers and floods the world for me."

"It is because we are here alone in this island—"

"No, no! Not that, I swear. It would have come sooner or later."

"You are not like other men. I have not thought of you as I see you now. I cannot understand being loved by you. It hurts me to see that you are in earnest. Oh, Hugh, how sorry I am," she cried, laying her hand upon his arm. His heart dropped like lead. He saw that he had been mistaken—she did not love him.

"You are learning that I am not the harlequin after all," he said bitterly.

"There is no one in all the world so good and strong and true."

"You—you will love me?"

"You must not ask that of me. I am still Lady Huntingford, a wife for all we know. Yet if I loved you, I would tell you so. Have I not told you that I cannot love? I have never loved. I never shall. Don't look like that, Hugh. I would to God I could love you," she exclaimed. His chin had sunk upon his breast and his whole body relaxed through sheer dejection.

"I'll make you love me!" he cried after a moment's misery in the depths, his spirits leaping high with the quick recoil. His eager hands seized her shoulders and drew her close, so close that their bodies touched and his impassioned eyes were within a few inches of hers of startled blue. "I'll make you love me!"

"Please let me go. Please, Hugh," she murmured faintly.

"You must—you shall love me! I cannot live without you. I'll have you whether you will or no," he whispered fiercely.

She did not draw back, but looked him fairly in the eye as she spoke coldly, calmly, even with a sneer.

"You are master here and I am but a helpless woman. Would you force me to forget that you have been my ideal man?"

"Tennys!" he cried, falling back suddenly. "You don't think I would harm you—oh, you know I didn't mean that! What must you think of me?"

He put his hand over his eyes as if in deep pain, and, turning away, leaned against the tree unsteadily. With his first words, his first expression, she knew she had wronged him. A glad rush of blood to her heart set it throbbing violently.

She could not have explained the thrill that went through her when he grasped her shoulders, nor could she any more define the peculiar joy that came when she took a step forward and placed her hands gently, timidly on his arm.

"Forgive me, Hugh, I must have been mad to say what I did. You are too noble—too good—" she began in a pleading little quaver.

"I knew you couldn't mean it," he exclaimed, facing her joyously. "How beautiful you are!" he added impetuously. He was looking down, into that penitent face and the cry was involuntary. She smiled faintly and he raised his arms as if to clasp her to his breast, come what may. The smile lingered, yet his arms dropped to his sides. She had not moved, had not taken her eyes from his, but there was an unrelenting command in the soft words she uttered. "Be careful. I am always to trust you, Hugh." He bowed his head and they walked slowly homeward.



CHAPTER XXIX

THE OTHER SURRENDER

The first few days and nights after this episode found Ridgeway despairing and unhappy, but as time removed the sting from defeat, his hopes began to flounder to the surface again, growing into a resolution, strong and arrogant. He devoted himself to her tenderly, thoughtfully, unreservedly. There was something subtle in his gallantry, something fascinating in his good humor, something in everything he did that attracted her more than it had before. She only knew that she was happy when with him and that he was unlike any man she had known.

There were times when she imagined that he was indifferent to the shock his pride had received at her hands, and at such times she was puzzled to find herself piqued and annoyed. A little gnawing pain kept her awake with these intermittent fears.

She became expert in the art of making garments from the woven grass. Her wardrobe contained some remarkable gowns, and his was enlarged by the addition of "Sunday trousers" and a set of shirt blouses. They wore sandals instead of shoes. Each had a pair of stockings, worn at the time of the wreck, but they were held in sacred disuse against the hoped-for day of deliverance.

One day, late in September, after the sun had banished the mists from the air and the dampness from the ground by a clear day's process, they wandered down between the gateposts to the beach where they had first landed with Pootoo. The sun was sinking toward the water-line and they sat wistfully watching it pass into the sea. For nearly five months they had lived with the savages, for the greater portion not unhappily, but always with the expectation that some day a vessel would come to take them back to civilization.