WEST WIND DRIFT

By George Barr McCutcheon

On a bright, still morning in October, the Doraine sailed from a SouthAmerican port and turned her glistening nose to the northeast. All told, there were some seven hundred and fifty souls on board; and therewere stores that filled her holds from end to end, --grain, foodstuffs, metals, chemicals, rubber and certain sinister things of war. Herpassenger list contained the names of men who had achieved distinctionin world affairs, --in finance, in business, in diplomacy, in war, besides that less subtle pursuit, adventure: men from both hemispheres, from all continents. It was a cosmopolitan company that sailed out tosea that placid day, bound for a port six thousand miles away. 

Her departure, heavy-laden, from this South American port was properlyrecorded in the then secret annals of a great nation; the world atlarge, however, was none the wiser. For those were the days when slyundersea monsters of German descent were prowling about the oceans, taking toll of humanity and breeding the curse that was to abide withtheir progenitors forever. 

Down through the estuary and into the spreading bay slid the bigsteamer; abreast the curving coast-line she drove her way for leaguesand leagues, and then swept boldly into the vast Atlantic desert. 

Four hundred years ago and more, Amerigo Vespucci had sailed thisunknown southern sea in his doughty caravel; he had wallowed and rockedfor months over a course that the Doraine was asked to cover in the winkof an eye by comparison. Up from the south he had come in an age whenthe seas he sailed were no less strange than the land he touched fromtime to time; the blue waste of sky and sea as boundless then as now;the west wind drift as sure and unfailing; the waves as savage oras mild; the star by which he laid his course as far away andimmutable, --but he came in 1501 and his ship was alone in the tracklessocean. 

The mighty Doraine was not alone; she sailed a sea whose every foot wascharted, whose every depth was sounded. She sailed in an age of Titans, while the caravel was a frolicksome pygmy, dancing to the music of athousand winds, buffeted today, becalmed tomorrow, but always a snail onthe face of the waters. Four hundred years ago Vespucci and his men werelost in the wilderness of waves. Out of touch with the world were theyfor months, --aye, even years, --and no man knew whither they sailed norwhence they came, for those were the days when the seven seas kept theirsecrets better than they keep them now. 

Into the path traversed by the lowly caravel steamed the toweringDoraine, pointing her gleaming nose to the north and east. 

She was never seen again. 

Out from the lairs of the great American navy sped the swiftesthounds of the ocean. They swept the face of the waters with a thousandsleepless eyes; they called with the strange, mysterious voice thatcarries a thousand miles; they raked the sea as with a fine-tooth comb;they searched the coast of a continent; they penetrated its rivers, circled its islands, scanned its rocks and reefs, --and asked a singlequestion that had but one reply from every ship that sailed the southernsea. 

For months ships of all nations searched for the missing steamer. Not somuch as the smallest piece of wreckage rewarded the ceaseless quest. Thegreat vessel, with all its precious cargo, had slipped into its nicheamong the profoundest mysteries of the sea. Came the day, therefore, when the Secretary of the Navy wrote down against her name the uglysentence: "Lost with all on board. "

Maritime courts issued their decrees; legatees parcelled estates, greatand small; insurance companies paid in hard cash for the lives thatwere lost, and went blandly about their business; more than one widowreconsidered her thoughts of self-denial; and ships again sailed thecourse of Amerigo Vespucci without a thought of the Doraine. 

For months the newspapers in many lands speculated on the fate of themissing liner. That a great ship could disappear from the face of thewaters in these supreme days of navigation without leaving so much asa trace behind was inconceivable. At first there were tales of thedastardly U-boats; then came the sinister reports of treachery on boardresulting in the ship being taken over by German plotters, with theprediction that she would emerge from oblivion as a well-armed "raider"cruising in the North Atlantic; then the generally accepted theory thatshe had been swiftly, suddenly rent asunder by a mighty explosion inher hold. All opinions, all theories, all conjectures, however, revolvedabout a single fear;--that she was the victim of a German plot. Butin the course of events there came a day when the German Navy, everboastful of its ignoble deeds, issued the positive and no doubt sinceredeclaration that it had no record of the sinking of the Doraine. Thefate of the ship was as much of a mystery to the German admiralty as itwas to the rest of the puzzled world. 

And so it was that the Doraine, laden with nearly a thousand souls, sailed out into the broad Atlantic and was never heard from again. 

BOOK ONE. 

CHAPTER I. 

The Captain of the liner was an old man. He had sailed the seas fortwo-score years, at least half of them as master. At the outbreak of theGreat War he was given command of the Doraine, relieving a younger manfor more drastic duty in the North Sea. He was an Englishman, and hisname, Weatherby Trigger, may be quite readily located on the list ofretired naval officers in the British Admiralty offices if one cares togo to the trouble to look it up. 

After two years the Doraine, with certain other vessels involved in awell-known and somewhat thoroughly debated transaction, became to allintents and purposes the property of the United States of America; sheflew the American flag, carried an American guncrew and American papers, and, with some difficulty, an English master. The Captain was making hislast voyage as master of the ship. An American captain was to succeedhim as soon as the Doraine reached its destination in the United States. Captain Trigger, a little past seventy, had sailed for nearly twoyears under the American flag at a time when all Englishmen were lookingaskance at it and wondering if it was ever to take its proper placeamong the righteous banners of the world. It had taken its place amongthem, and the "old man" was happy. 

His crew of one hundred and fifty was what might be aptly described asinternational. The few Englishmen he had on board were noticeablyunfit for active duty in the war zone. There was a small contingent ofAmericans, a great many Portuguese, some Spaniards, Norwegians, and amore or less polyglot remainder without national classification. 

His First Officer was a Scotch-American, the Second an Irish-American, the Chief Engineer a plain unhyphenated American from Baltimore, Maryland. The purser, Mr. Codge, was still an Englishman, although hehad lived in the United States since he was two years old, --a matter offorty-seven years and three months, if we are to believe Mr. Codge, who seemed rather proud of the fact that his father had neglected toforswear allegiance to Queen Victoria, leaving it to his son to followhis example in the case of King Edward the Seventh and of King Georgethe Fifth. 

There were eighty-one first-cabin passengers, one hundred and nineteenin the second cabin, --for the two had not been consolidated on theDoraine as was the case with the harried trans-Atlantic liners, --andapproximately three hundred and fifty in the steerage. The firstand second cabin lists represented many races, South Americanspredominating. 

The great republics in the lower half of the hemisphere were cutoff almost entirely from the Old World so far as general travel wasconcerned. The people of Argentine, Brazil and Chili turned their eyesfrom the east and looked to the north, where lay the hitherto ignoredand sometime hated continent whose middle usurped the word American. Asea voyage in these parlous days meant but one thing to the people ofSouth America: a visit to an unsentimental land whose traditions, if anywere cherished at all, went back no farther than yesterday and were tobe succeeded by fresh ones tomorrow. At least, such was the belief ofthe Latin who still dozed superciliously in the glory of his long-deadancestors. Not having Paris, or London, or Madrid, or Rome as the Meccaof his dreams, his pilgrimage now carried him to the infidel realitiesof the North, --to Washington, New York, New Orleans, Newport andAtlantic City! He had the money for travel, so why stay at home? He hadthe money to waste, so why not dissipate? He had the thirst for sin, sowhy famish?

There were lovely women on board, and children with and without thegolden spoon; there were men whose names were known on both sides ofthe Atlantic and whose reputations for integrity, sagacity, intellect, and, --it must be confessed, --corruptness, (with the author's apology forthe inclusion); doughty but dogmatic university men who had penetratedthe wildernesses as naturalists, entomologists, mineralogists, archaeologists, explorers; sportsmen who had forsaken the lion, rhinoceros, hartebeest and elephant of Africa for the jaguar, cougar, armadillo and anteater of South America; soldiers of fortune whosegods had lured them into the comparative safety of South Americanrevolutions; miners, stock buyers and raisers, profiteersmen, diplomats, priests, preachers, gamblers, smugglers and thieves; others who hadgone out for the Allies to buy horses, beeves, grain, metal, chemicals, manganese and men; financiers, merchants, lawyers, writers, musicians, doctors, dentists, architects; gentiles and Jews, Protestants andCatholics, skeptics and infidels, --in short, good men, bad men, beggarmen, thieves. 

The world will readily recall such names and personalities as these:Abel T. Landover, the great New York banker; Peter Snipe, the novelist;Solomon Nicklestick, the junior member in the firm of Winkelwein &Nicklestick, importers of hides, etc. , Ninth Avenue, New York; MosesBlock, importer of rubber; James January Jones, of San Francisco, promoter and financier; Randolph Fitts, of Boston, the well-knownarchitect; Percy Knapendyke, the celebrated naturalist; MichaelO'Malley Malone, of the law firm of Eads, Blixton, Solomon, Carlson, Vecchiavalli, Revitsky, Perkins & Malone, New York; William Spinney, of the Chicago Police force, (and his prisoner, "Soapy" Shay, diamondthief); Denby Flattner, the taxidermist; Morris Shine, the motionpicture magnate; Madame Careni-Amori, soprano from the Royal Opera, Rome; Signer Joseppi, the new tenor, described as the logical successorto the great Caruso; Madame Obosky and three lesser figures inthe Russian Ballet, who were coming to the United States to heada long-heralded tour, "by special arrangement with the Czar"; BuckChizler, the famous jockey, --and so on. 

These were the names most conspicuously displayed by the newspapersduring the anxious, watchful days and weeks that succeeded the sailingof the Doraine from the port in the Tropic of Capricorn. 

Dozens of cities in the United States were represented by one or morepersons on board the Doraine, travellers of both sexes who, being deniedthe privilege of a customary dash to Europe for the annual holiday, resolved not to be deprived of their right to wander, nor the rightto return when they felt inclined. Whilom, defiant rovers in search ofchange, they scoffed at conditions and went their way regardless ofthe peril that stalked the seas. In the main they were money-spending, time-dragging charges against the resources of a harassed, bewilderedgovernment, claiming protection in return for arrogance. 

Far to the south, off the Falkland Islands, at the bottom of the sea, lay the battered hulls of what ware supposed to be the last of theGerman fighting-ships in South Atlantic waters. Report had it, however, that several well-armed cruisers had either escaped the hurricane ofshells from the British warships, or had been detached from the squadronbefore the encounter took place. In any event, no vessel left a SouthAmerican port without maintaining a sharp lookout for prowling survivorsof the vanquished fleet, and no passenger went aboard who did notexperience the thrill of a hazardous undertaking. The ever-present andever-ready individual with official information from sources that couldnot be questioned, travelled with remarkable regularity on each andevery craft that ventured out upon the Hun-infested waters. In thesmoke-room the invariable word went round that raiders were sinkingeverything in sight. Every ship that sailed had on board at least oneindividual who claimed to have been chased on a former voyage by ablockade-breaker, --(according to the most reliable reports, the Germanswere slipping warships through the vaunted British net with the mostastounding ease and frequency, )--and there was no one with the hardihoodor desire to question his veracity; indeed, it was something of a joyto believe him, for was he not a living and potential document to provethat the merchant marine could outwit, outrace and outshoot the Germanpirates?

The Doraine was barely twenty-four hours out from port and ploughingalong steadily through a choppy sea when Mr. Mott, the First Officer, reported to Captain Trigger that a stowaway had been found on board. 

"German?" inquired Captain Trigger tersely. 

"No, sir. At least, he doesn't look it and, what's more, he doesn't actit. Claims to be American born and bred. "

"That's what a great many Germans are claiming these days, Mr. Mott. Wecan't take any chances, you know. Where was he found?"

Mr. Mott cleared his throat. "Ahem! He wasn't what you might call found, sir. As a matter of fact, he applied in person to the Chief Engineerabout half an hour ago and asked for a job. He said he was perfectlywilling to work out his passage home. Mr. Gray had him conducted to me, sir, --rather sharply guarded, of course, --and he--"

"Fetch him here at once, Mr. Mott, " commanded Captain Trigger. "I'llhear what he has to say first hand. "

"Very well, sir. " Mr. Mott started away, hesitated, rubbed his chindubiously, and then came back. "He's having a bit of breakfast, sir, andhas asked for the loan of Mr. Codge's razors--"

"What?" roared the captain. 

"I informed him he would have to appear before you at once, sir, and hesaid he was quite willing to do so, but would it be possible for himto tidy up a bit beforehand. I am obliged to confess, sir, that I havenever encountered a more interesting stowaway in all my career, whichleads me to confess still further that I gave orders to feed him, --hehasn't had a mouthful to eat since we left port, owing to the fact, hesays, that his luggage shifted the first day out and try as he wouldhe couldn't locate it without a match, or something to that effect, --herather stumped me, sir, with the graceful way he lies, --and then Mr. Codge agreed to let him take one of his razors, and when I left himbelow, sir, it seemed quite certain that Mr. Gray was on the point oflending him a shirt and a change of underwear. I--"

"Good God, sir!" gasped Captain Trigger, with something more thanemotion in his voice. "What is this you are telling me?"

"He seems a most likeable chap, " explained Mr. Mott lamely. "Quitea courteous fellow, too, sir. I forgot to mention that he sent hiscompliments to you and asks for an interview at your earliest conven--"

"Asked for an interview? Drag him here at once--by the heels, ifnecessary. Tell him I shan't keep him waiting an instant, " said thecaptain ironically. 

Mr. Mott still hesitated. "In the event, sir, that he is in the midst ofshaving--"

"I don't care a hang what he's in the midst of, " exclaimed CaptainTrigger. "Even in the midst of changing shirts. Present my complimentsto him, Mr. Mott, and say that he needn't dress up on my account. Iam an old-fashioned sailor-man. It is nothing new to me to see men whohaven't shaved in a fortnight, and others who never change shirts. "

"Very well, sir, " said Mr. Mott, and departed. 

Presently he reappeared with the stowaway in charge. 

Captain Trigger beheld a well set-up young man of medium height, withfreshly shaven chin and jaws, carefully brushed hair, spotless whiteshirt and collar, and, --revealed in a quick glance, --recently scrubbedhands. His brown Norfolk jacket was open, and he carried a brand new, though somewhat shapeless pan-ama hat in his hand. Evidently he hadceased fanning himself with it at the moment of entering the captain'spresence. The keen, good-looking face was warm and moist as the resultof a most violent soaping. He wore corduroy riding-breeches, cavalryboots that betrayed their age in spite of a late polishing at the handsof an energetic and carefully directed bootblack, and a broad leatherbelt from which only half an eye was required to see that a holster hadbeen detached with a becoming regard for neatness. His hair was thickand sun-bleached; his eyes, dark and unafraid, met the stern gaze ofthe captain with directness and respect; his lips and chin were firm inrepose, but they might easily be the opposite if relaxed; his skin wasso tanned and wind-bitten that the whites of his eyes were startlinglydefined and vivid. He was not a tall man, --indeed, one would have beenjustified in suspecting him of being taller than he really was becauseof the more or less deceiving erectness with which he carried himself. As a matter of fact, he was not more than five feet ten or ten and ahalf. 

Captain Trigger eyed him narrowly for a moment. 

"What is your name?"

"A. A. Percival, sir. "

"Your full name, young man. No initials. "

The stowaway seemed to add an inch to his height before replying. 

"Algernon Adonis Percival, sir, " he said, a very clear note of defiancein his voice. 

The Captain looked at the First Officer, and the First Officer, after abrief stare at the speaker, looked at the Captain. 

"It's his right name, you can bet, sir, " said Mr. Mott, with conviction. "Nobody would voluntarily give himself a name like that. "

"You never can tell about these Americans, Mr. Mott, " said the Captainwarily. "They've got what they call a keen sense of humour, you know. "

Mr. Percival smiled. His teeth were very white and even. 

"I am a first and only child, " he explained. "That ought to account forit, sir, " he went on, a trifle defensively. 

Captain Trigger did not smile. Mr. Mott, however, looked distinctlysympathetic. 

"You say you are an American, --a citizen of the United States?" demandedthe former. 

"Yes, sir. My home is in Baltimore. "

"Baltimore?" repeated Mr. Mott quickly. "That's where Mr. Gray hailsfrom, sir, " he added, as a sort of apology to the Captain for theexclamation. 

The Captain's gaze settled on the stowaway's spotless white shirt andcollar. Then he nodded his head slowly. 

"Mr. Gray is the Chief Engineer, " he explained, with mock courtesy. 

"Yes, sir, --I know, " responded Percival. "He comes of one of the oldestand most highly connected families in Baltimore. He informs me that hisfather--"

"Never mind!" snapped the Captain. "We need not discuss Mr. Gray'santecedents. How old are you?"

"Thirty last Friday, sir. "

"Married?"

"No, sir. "

"Parents living?"

"No, sir. "

"And now, what the devil do you mean by sneaking aboard this ship andhiding yourself in the--by the way, Mr. Mott, where was he hiding?"

Mr. Mott: "It doesn't seem to be quite clear as yet, sir. "

Captain Trigger: "What's that?"

Mr. Mott: "I say, it isn't quite clear. We have only his word for it. You see, he wasn't discovered until he accosted Mr. Shannon on thebridge and asked--"

Captain Trigger: "On the bridge, Mr. Mott?"

Mr. Mott: "That is to say, sir, Mr. Shannon was on the bridge and he wasbelow on the promenade deck. He asked Mr. Shannon if he was the Captainof the boat. "

Captain Trigger: "He did, eh? Well?"

Mr. Mott: "He was informed that you were at breakfast, sir, --no onesuspecting him of being a stowaway, of course, --and then, it appears, he started out to look for you. That's how he fell in with the ChiefEngineer. Mr. Gray informs me that he applied for work, admitting thathe was aboard without leave, or passage, or funds, or anything else, it would seem. But, as for where he lay in hiding, there hasn't beenanything definite arrived at as yet, sir. He seems to have been hidingin a rather wide-spread sort of way. "

Mr. Percival, amiably: "Permit me to explain, Captain Trigger. You see, I have been obliged to change staterooms three times. Naturally, thatmight be expected to create some little confusion in my mind. I beganin the second cabin. Much to my surprise and chagrin I found, too late, that the stateroom I had chosen, --at random, I may say, --was merely inthe state of being prepared for a lady and gentleman who had asked to betransferred from a less desirable one. I had some difficulty in gettingout of it without attracting attention. I don't know what I should havedone if the steward hadn't informed them that he could not move theirsteamer-trunk until morning. There wouldn't have been room for both ofus under the berth, sir. If the gentleman had been alone I shouldn'thave minded in the least remaining, under his berth, but he--"

Captain Trigger: "How did you happen to get into that room, young man?The doors are never unlocked when the rooms are unoccupied. "

Mr. Percival: "You are mistaken, sir. I found at least three stateroomdoors unlocked that night, and my search was by no means extensive. "

Captain Trigger: "This is most extraordinary, Mr. Mott, --if true. "

Mr. Mott: "It shall be looked into, sir. "

Captain Trigger: "Go on, young man. "

Mr. Percival: "I tried another room in the second cabin, but hadto abandon it also. It had no regular occupant, --it was Number 221remember, --but along about midnight two men opened the door with a keyand came in. They were stewards. I gathered that they were gettingthe room ready for someone else, so when they departed, --very quietly, sir, --I sneaked out and decided to try for accommodations in the firstcabin. I--"

Mr. Mott: "Did you say stewards?"

Mr. Percival: "That's what I took them to be. "

Captain Trigger: "You are either lying, young man, or plumb crazy. "

Mr. Percival, with dignity: "The latter is quite possible, Captain, --butnot the former. I managed quite easily to get from the second cabin tothe first. You'd be surprised to know how simple it was. Running withoutlights as you do, sir, simplified things tremendously. I found a verysick and dejected Jewish gentleman trying to die in the least exposedcorner of the promenade deck. At least, he said he didn't want to live. I offered to put him to bed and to sit up with him all night if it wouldmake him feel a little less like passing away. He lurched at the chance. I accompanied him to his stateroom, and so got a few much-neededhours of repose, despite his groans. I also ate his breakfast for him. Skirmishing around this morning, I found there were no unoccupied roomsin the first cabin, so I decided that we were far enough from land forme to reveal myself to the officer of the day, --if that's what you call'em on board ship, --with a very honest and laudable desire to work mypassage home. I can only add, Captain, that I am ready and willing to doanything from swabbing floors on the upper deck to passing coal at thebottom of the ship. "

Captain Trigger stared hard at the young man, a puzzled expression inhis eyes. 

"You appear to be a gentleman, " he said at last. "Why are you on boardthis ship as a stowaway? Don't you know that I can put you in irons, confine you to the brig, and put you ashore at the first port of call?"

"Certainly, sir. That's just what I am trying to avoid. As a gentleman, I am prepared to do everything in my power to relieve you of what mustseem a most painful official duty. "

Mr. Mott smiled. The Captain stiffened perceptibly. 

"How did you come aboard this ship?" he demanded. 

"As a coal passer, sir. Day before yesterday, when you were gettingin the last lot of coal. I had a single five dollar gold piece in mypocket. It did the trick. With that seemingly insignificant remnant ofa comfortable little fortune, I induced one of the native coalcarriers, --a Portuguese nobleman, I shall always call him, --to partwith his trousers, shirt and hat. I slipped 'em on over my own clothes, stuffed my boots and socks inside my shirt, picked up his basket ofcoal, and walked aboard. It isn't necessary, I suppose, to state that mycareer as a dock-hand ceased with that solitary basket of coal, or thathaving once put foot aboard the Doraine, I was in a position to bookmyself as a passenger. "

"Well, I'm damned!" said Captain Trigger. "Some one shall pay for thiscarelessness, Mr. Mott. I've never heard of anything so cool. What didyou say your name is, young man?"

"A. A. Percival, sir. "

"Ah--ahem! I see. Will it offend you, A. A. , if I make so bold as toinquire why the devil you neglected to book your passage in the regularway, as any gentleman from Baltimore might have been expected to do, andwhere is your passport, your certificate of health, your purse and yourdischarge from prison?"

Mr. Percival spread out his hands in a gesture of complete surrender. 

"Would you be interested in my story, Captain Trigger? It is brief, butedifying. When I arrived in town, the evening before you were to sail, I had a wallet well-filled with gold, currency, and so forth. I hadtravelled nearly two thousand miles, --from the foothills of the Andes, to be more definite, --and I had my papers, my cancelled contract, and aclear right-of-way, so to speak. My personal belongings were supposed tohave arrived in town on the train with me. A couple of cow-hide trunks, in fact. Well, they didn't arrive. I don't know what became of them. Ihad no time to investigate. This was the last boat I could get fortwo or three weeks that would land me in the U. S. A. I put up at theAlcazar Grand for the night. It was then too late to secure passage, butI fully intended to do so the first thing in the morning. There was aconcert and dance at the hotel that night, and I went in to look on forawhile. I ran across a friend, an engineer who was on the job with meup in the hills a few months ago. He is also an American, a chap fromProvidence, Rhode Island. Connected with the consular service now. Hewas with a small party of Americans, --am I boring you?"

"No, no, --get on with it, " urged Captain Trigger. 

"Several of them were sailing on this ship, and they were having alittle farewell party. That, however, has nothing to do with the case. I left them at midnight and went up to my room. Now comes the part youwill not believe. During the night, --I sleep very soundly, --some oneentered my room, rifled my pockets, and got away with everything Ipossessed, except my clothes and the five-dollar gold piece I havecarried ever since I left home, --as a lucky coin, you know. He--"

"How did he happen to overlook your lucky coin?" inquired the Captainsarcastically. 

"Because it couldn't be a lucky coin if I carried it in my purse. Nocoin is ever lucky that gets into my purse, Captain. I always kept ittightly sewed up in the band of my trousers, safe from the influence ofevil companions. I did not discover the loss until morning. It was thentoo late to do anything, as you were sailing at eight. My Providencefriend was not available. I knew no one else. But I was determined tosail on the Doraine. That's the story, sir, in brief. I leave it toyou if I wasn't justified in doing the best I could under thecircumstances. "

Captain Trigger was not as fierce as he looked. He could not keep thetwinkle out of his eye. 

"We will see about that, " he managed to say with commendable gruffness. "Assuming that your story is true, why are you in such a tremendoushurry to reach the United States? Skipping out for some reason, eh?"

"Well, " said the young man slowly, "you see, news is a long time gettingout into the wilderness where I've been located for a couple of years. We knew, of course, that there was a war on, but we didn't know how itwas progressing. Down here in this part of the world we have a war everytwo or three months, and we've got so used to having 'em over within aweek or two that we just naturally don't pay much attention to them. We don't even care who wins. But a couple of months ago we got wordup there that the United States had finally got into it with everybodyunder the sun, and that the Germans were bound to win if we didn't geta couple of million men across in pretty short order. I am thirty yearsold, Captain, strong and healthy, and I'm a good American. That's whyI want to get home. I've told you the truth about being robbed. I don'tmind losing the money, --only a couple of thousand pesos, you know, --butif you chuck me off at the next port of call, Captain Trigger, I'llcurse you to my dying day. I'm willing to work, I'm willing to be put inirons, I'm willing to get along on bread and water, but you've just gotto land me in the United States. You are an Englishman. I suppose you'vegot relatives over in France fighting the Germans. Maybe you've had someone killed who is dear to you. "

"My youngest son was killed in Flanders, " said the Captain simply. 

"I am sorry, sir. Well, for every Englishman and every Frenchman who hasdied over there, my country ought to supply some one to take his place. I expect to be one of those men, Captain. I have no other excuse forcoming aboard your ship as a stowaway. "

The Captain still eyed him narrowly. 

"I believe you are honest, young man. If I am deceived in you I shallnever trust the eyes of another man as long as I live. Sit down, Mr. Percival. I shall put you to work, never fear, but in the meantime I amvery much interested in what you were doing up in the hills. You willoblige me by going as fully as possible into all the details. I shallnot pass judgment on you until I've heard all of your story. "

CHAPTER II. 

Algernon Adonis Percival, civil and mining engineer, Cornell, had gonethrough certain rather harsh stages of development in the mines ofMontana and later in the perilous districts of Northern Mexico. A yearor two prior to the breaking out of the great World War, he was sentto South America to replace the general superintendent of a newcopper-mining enterprise in a remote section of the Andes, onthe Bolivian side of the mountains. Here he was in charge of theheterogeneous horde of miners, labourers, structural workers andassayists who were engaged in the development and extension of the vastconcession controlled by his company. 

His description of the camp or town in which this motley assemblagedwelt from one year's end to the other, far from civilization, wasilluminating to the two sea-faring men. It must be confessed, however, that a sound reluctance to swallow the tale without the proverbial grainof salt caused them to watch closely for the slightest sign that mightreveal to them the always-to-be expected and seldom successfulduplicity so common in those harrowing days when all men were objects ofsuspicion. From time to time they glanced inquiringly at each other, but the stranger's story was so straightforward, so lacking in personalexploitation, so free from unnecessary detail, that they were finallyconvinced that he was all that he represented himself to be and thatthey had nothing to fear from him. 

His long, hazardous journey by horse through the passes down into theforests and jungles, out upon the endless, sparsely settled pampas, and eventually into the remote village that witnessed the passing everysecond day of a primitive and far from dependable railway train, waspresented with agreeable simplicity and conciseness. He passed brieflyover what might have been expanded into grave experiences, and at lastcame, so to speak, to the gates of the city, unharmed, resolute and fullof the fire that knows no quenching. 

"By the way, " observed the Captain, still wary, "has it occurred to youwe may be justified in suspecting that you deserted your post upthere in the hills, and that you have betrayed the confidence of youremployers?" Percival had completed what he evidently believed to be afull and satisfactory account of himself. 

"I was in full charge up there, Captain Trigger. My contract had but amonth more to run. I appointed my own successor, and the company willnot be any the worse off for the change. My letter to headquarters, announcing my decision not to renew the contract, went forward two weeksbefore I left the camp. I merely anticipated the actual termination ofmy contract by a month or so, and as I handed my resignation at once tomy own newly appointed superintendent, I submit that I acted in absolutegood faith. I may say that he accepted it without a word of protest, sir. As a matter of fact, I told him in advance that I wouldn't appointhim unless he agreed to accept my resignation. "

The Captain smiled at this ingenuous explanation. 

"I daresay I ought to put you under guard, Mr. Percival, " he said. "Myduty is very plain. A stowaway is a stowaway, no matter how you lookat him. The regulations do not leave me any choice. Maritime justiceis rarely tempered by mercy. However, under the circumstances, I aminclined to accept your word of honour that you will not violate yourparole if I refrain from putting you in irons. Have I your word ofhonour that you will not leave this ship until I hand you over to theproper authorities in the United States?"

"You have, sir. "

"You are a very head-strong, ambitious young man. You will not jumpoverboard and try to beat us into port under your own steam?"

"You may trust me, sir, never to give up the ship. "

"And you will kill as many Germans as possible?"

"Yes, sir, " said A. A. Percival submissively. 

Captain Trigger arose and extended his hand. 

"I've never done anything like this before in all my years as ship'smaster. You ought to be flogged and stowed away in the brig until youshow a properly subdued spirit, young man. I suppose you've heard of thecat-o'-nine-tails?"

"My reading up to the age of fifteen was confined almost exclusively tothe genteel histories of pirates, buccaneers and privateersmen, CaptainTrigger, " announced A. A. Percival, taking the master's hand in afirm grip. "I wonder if you know what a black-snake whip is, or acattle-adder? Well, they're both painful and convincing. As director ofmorals in the camp I have just left behind me, it was my official dutyon frequent occasions to see to it that current offenders had fromfifteen to fifty applications of the black-snake in a public sort ofway. The black-snake, I may explain, could be wielded by a strong butunskilled arm. It was different, however, with the cattle-adder. Thathad to be handled by an expert, one who could stand off twenty paces, more or less, and crack the long lash with such astonishing precisionthat the tip end of it barely touched the back of the culprit, theresult being a nobby assortment of splotches that looked for all theworld like hives after the blood got back into them again. You see, I was chief magistrate, executioner ex-officio, chief of police, jurycommissioner--in fact, an all-around potentate. Sort of Pooh-bah, youknow. For serious offences, such as wife beating, wife stealing, or having more than one wife at a time, we were not so lenient. Theoffender, on conviction, was strung up by the thumbs and used as atarget by amateurs who desired to become proficient in the use of thecattle-adder. Murderers were attended to a trifle more expeditiously. They were strung up by the neck. "

"Good God, man, --do you mean to say you hung men in that off-handfashion?" cried Captain Trigger, aghast. 

"Not without a fair trial, sir. No innocent man was ever hung. There wasno such thing as circumstantial evidence in that camp. The guilty manwas always taken red-handed. We had good laws and they were rigidlyenforced. There was no other way, sir. Short, sharp and decisive. It'sthe best way. Men understand that sort of thing and honest men approveof the method. You see, gentlemen, we had a hard lot of characters todeal with. I wish to add, however, that before I had been up there sixmonths we had a singularly law-abiding and self-respecting camp. Crimewas not tolerated, not even by the men who had once been criminals. If two men quarrelled, they were allowed to fight it out fairly andsquarely in any way they could agree upon. Knives, hatchets and allother messy weapons were barred. It was either fists, pistols or riflesat a fairly long range, and under the strictest rules. Duels were foughtaccording to Hoyle, and were witnessed by practically every one in camp. You will perceive that Copperhead Camp was no place for a coward or abluffer or a bully. It takes a brave man to fight a duel with a chap whomay be only half as big as he is, but who can shoot like the devil. Soyou see, Captain Trigger, the cat-o'-nine-tails has no terror for me. "

Mr. Mott regarded the young man with wide-open, somewhat incredulouseyes. 

"You don't look like a fire-eating, swashbuckling party to me, " he said. 

"I am the most peaceable chap you've ever seen, Mr. Mott. You needn'tbe alarmed. I'm not going to bite a hole in the ship and scuttle her. Moreover, I am a very meek and lowly individual on board this ship. There's a lot of difference between being in supreme command with allkinds of authority to bolster you up and being a rat in a trap as I amnow. Up in Copperhead Camp I was a nabob, here I'm a nobody. Up there Iwas the absolute boss of five or six hundred men, --I won't say I couldboss the women, --and I made 'em all walk chalk without once losingstep. There were murderers and crooks, blacklegs and gunmen in my genialaggregation, men whose true names we never knew, men who were wanted inevery part of the civilized world. The only place on earth, I suppose, where they could feel reasonably at home was in that gosh-awful nowherethat we called Copperhead Camp. You can't handle such men with mittens. And there were good men there as well, --good, strong, righteous men. They were the leaven that made the whole thing palatable. Without them Icould have had no authority. But I dare say I am boring you. The presentsituation is the one we're interested in, not the lordly past of yourhumble and, I trust, obedient servant. "

His smile was most engaging, but back of it the two seamen readstrength, decision, integrity. The gay, bantering, whilom attitude ofthis unusual young man was not assumed. It was not a pose. He was nota dare-devil, nor was he a care-free, unstable youth who had maturedabruptly in the exercise of power. On the contrary, he was, --and CaptainTrigger knew it, --the personification of confidence, an optimist to whomvictory and defeat are equally unavoidable and therefore to be reckonedas one in the vast scheme of human endeavour; a fighter who merely restson his arms but never lays them down; a spirit that absorbs the bittersand the sweets of life with equal relish. 

Captain Trigger was not slow in making up his mind. This clean-minded, clean-bodied American with the confident though respectful smile, was achap after his own heart. 

"I hardly know what to do with you, Percival, " he said, a scowl ofgenuine perplexity in his eyes. "You are not an ordinary transgressor. You are a gentleman. You have exercised an authority perhaps somewhatsimilar to my own, --possibly in some respects your position up there waseven more autocratic, if I may use the term. I am not unconscious of allthis, and yet I have no choice other than that designated by law. Theregulations are unalterable. It is a matter of morale, pure and simple. We are compelled to treat all stowaways alike. Of course, I shall notsubject you to the ordinary--shall we say methods of--"

"Pardon me, Captain, " broke in the young man, his smile no longer inevidence; "I am asking no favours. I expect to be treated as an ordinarystowaway. Set me to work at anything you like and I will make as good ajob of it as possible. "

"I was about to suggest that you serve as a sort of assistant to Mr. Codge, the purser. I've no doubt he could find something for you to doand--"

"If that is your way of punishing me, Captain Trigger, of course thereis nothing for me to do but to submit. "

"Eh? I am sure you will not find Mr. Codge a hard taskmaster. He isquite a good-natured man. "

"Extremely kind and considerate, " hastily added Mr. Mott, reassuringly. 

"But I don't want to loaf my passage home, " protested Percival. "I wantto be sentenced to the hardest sort of labour, if you don't mind. Idon't want to owe this steamship company a penny when I step ashore. Itis your duty, sir, as master of this ship, to put me on the meanest jobyou've got. "

"My word!" exclaimed Captain Trigger. 

"I'm blessed!" said Mr. Mott. 

"Up where I've been running things and cock-walking like a foreman in ashirt-waist factory, I made the rules and I enforced them. I want to sayto you that no favours were shown. If the Prince of Wales had drifted inthere, dead broke, and asked for something to eat, he would have got it, but you bet your life he'd have had to work for it. A tramp's a tramp, no matter how much purple he's been used to, and you can say the samefor a stowaway. What's the matter with me taking the place of one ofthose deck-hands, or whatever you call 'em, you lost last night?"

"What's that?"

"Swabbers, maybe you call 'em. Men that mop up the decks after everybodyelse has turned in. "

"What are you talking about?" demanded the Captain, sitting up verystraight. Percival stared at him in astonishment. 

"I thought you knew about it, of course. Good Lord, sir, don't you knowthat a couple of your men jumped overboard last night, --or early thismorning, rather? Just as the ship was rounding that big headland--"

"Good God, man, are you in earnest?" cried Mr. Mott, starting toward thedoor. 

"I certainly am. I took them for deserters, of course, --not suicides, because they didn't forget to put on life preservers before they jumped. I haven't a doubt they were picked up, so there's no use worrying. Aminute or two after they went over, --from the bottom deck or whateveryou call it, --I heard a motor boat popping away like a gatling-gun notfar, --"

But he was alone. Captain Trigger had dashed out of the cabin in thewake of the First Officer. 

Algernon Adonis Percival stared blankly at the open door. 

"Good Lord, why all this excitement over a couple of bums?" he said, addressing space. "If they were working for me, I'd thank the Lord to berid of 'em so cheaply. They--Hello!"

The Second Officer popped into the room. 

"Come along with me, " he snapped. "Lively, now. Just where and when didyou see a couple of men go overboard? Quietly, now. We don't want toalarm the passengers. "

Within five minutes after Percival's disturbing report, the officersof the Doraine, with set faces, were employed in a swift but silentinvestigation. Before many more minutes had passed, at least a portionof the stowaway's story had been verified. Two men were found to bemissing, although, strange to say, they had not been missed up to thetime that noses were counted. They were down on the ship's roster asNorwegians, New York registry, and had come down with the Doraine on hertrip from the north. 

Percival repeated his story, but had little to add in the way of detail. He had stolen on deck some time after midnight for a breath of air, risking detection, and from the shelter of a secluded corner well afthad heard the two men swabbing the deck below. Suddenly they ceasedwork, and he prepared to creep back to a place of safety, concludingthat they were on their way to the upper deck. 

He went to the rail to listen. The two men were almost directly belowhim, and he could see the upper portions of their figures as they leanedfar out over the rail, apparently looking into the swirling watersbelow. Quite distinctly he heard one of them say, in English: "We gotto do it now or never. " The other mumbled something he could notdistinguish. He was only mildly interested, not anticipating what was tofollow. For a few seconds he heard them scrambling and puffing and thenhe saw them quite plainly on the rail, their figures bulky with what heidentified as life buoys, a faint light from somewhere falling directlyupon the grayish-white objects in which they were swathed. 

One of them uttered the word "Now!" and to his amazement they shot out, as one man, into the black-ness below. There was a single splash. For amoment or two he stood spell-bound. Then he heard some one runningalong the deck below. Convinced that the incident had been witnessed byothers, he darted into the companion-way and made his way back to thestateroom of the sick passenger. Through the lightless porthole helistened for the terrifying shout, "Man overboard!" It did not come, but his ear caught the staccato beat of a motor near by, strikingup abruptly out of the swish of rushing waters. In his ignorance, hedecided that it was a boat from the ship going to the rescue of thedaring deserters, and calmly waited for the engines of the mightyDoraine to cease their rhythmic pulsing. He fell asleep. 

When he awoke, he concluded that he had dreamed the whole thing. Thisconclusion was justified when he asked his wretched "bunkie" if hehad observed him leaving the room during the night. The answer was amournful negative, followed by the sufferer's more or less positivedeclaration that he was staring wide awake the whole damned night long. 

Percival, unconvinced, boldly made his way to the lower deck anddiscovered that two life buoys were missing from their supports, acircumstance that put an end to the hope that he had dreamed it all. Hisown affairs however now loomed large, taking precedence over the plightof the men who had deliberately abandoned the ship. In any case, theship's officers had done everything that could be done in the matter. He was genuinely astonished to learn that the act of the two men wasunknown to the Captain. 

A hurried conference of the ship's officers and the commander of thegun-crew resulted in a single but definite conclusion. The desperate, even suicidal manner in which the men left the ship signified but onething: the absolute necessity of flight before an even more sinisterperil confronted them. Not a man on board doubted for an instant thatthey had taken their chance in the waters as a part of a preconceivedplan, and they had taken it with all the devilish hardihood of fanatics. 

The presence of the motor craft, so far out from port, lurkingwith silent engine in the path of the steamship, could have but onesignificance. It represented one of the carefully thought-out details ina stupendous, far-reaching plot. 

If there were signals between the motor boat and the two men aboard thesteamship, they were not observed by the lookouts. In all probability nosignals were given. The little craft was to be at a certain place at acertain hour, --and she was there! The men who jumped knew that she wouldbe there. A black, tiny speck on the broad expanse of water, shelteredby a night of almost stygian darkness, she lay outside the narrow radiusto which visual observation was confined, patiently waiting for theDoraine to pass a designated point. There was to be no miscalculation onthe part of either the boat or the men who went over the side of the bigsteamship into the seething waters. 

The closest inquiry among the members of the crew failed to revealany one who had witnessed the leap of the men. Percival was positive, however, that some one ran along the lower deck, but whether toward oraway from the spot where the men went over he had no means of knowing. He offered the suggestion that there were three persons actuallyinvolved, and that one of them, more than likely the victim of acoin-flipping decision, had remained on board to complete the work thetrio had been chosen to perform, even though death was to be his lot. 

The Second Officer had been regarding Percival with ever-growingsuspicion. 

"Is there anything to prove, young man, that you are not the one whostayed behind to complete the job?" he demanded at last. 

"Nothing, " said Percival promptly, and somewhat scathingly, "nothing atall, except the trifling fact that I am here talking it over with yougentlemen instead of attending to my business, as any honest conspiratorshould be doing. You may be quite sure of one thing: if there is a manon board this ship whose business it is to finish the job, he isn'tidle. He's getting on with the job at this minute, gentlemen. If you'lltake my advice you will institute two investigations. First, searchthe ship from stem to stern, from keel to bridge, for bombs or infernalmachines. Second, ask your rich passengers if they have lost anything inthe shape of pearls, diamonds, coin of the realm, or anything else worthjumping into the ocean for. "

Captain Trigger looked at him over the top of his eye-glasses. 

"You are not in Copperhead Camp at present, Mr. Percival, " he saidstiffly. 

The young man flushed. "I beg your pardon, Captain Trigger, " he saidsimply. 

"All you have to do, " said the Second Officer, fixing him with aninimical eye, "is to answer questions and not to tell us how to run thisship. "

Percival did his best to hold back the retort, but, failing, released itwith considerable sharpness:

"Well, if I was running this ship I'd head her for shore pretty damnedquick. "

The American in command of the gun-crew was the only one who smiled, andhe did it openly. Captain Trigger's face darkened redly. 

"Take this man in charge, Mr. Shannon. He wants work. Give it him. Underguard. "

"Am I suspected, Captain Trigger, of being in league--"

"Every man, every woman on board this ship is suspected, " said theCaptain with decision. "Every one, sir, from myself down. The rest of usgrasp that fact, even if you do not. "

And so it was that while Algernon Adonis Percival, under the watchfuleye of a burly seaman, fell to work scraping the scuppers on the boatdeck, the stern business of searching the ship went forward witha thoroughness that left no room for doubt as to the fears andapprehensions of the men who had her in charge. Despite the fact thatintensive, anxious hours of delving revealed no hidden, sinister agentof destruction, there was no relaxation on the part of the officers andcrew. One by one the passengers were examined; their rooms and theirluggage were systematically overhauled. No one resented these drasticoperations, for by midday the whole ship's company knew what hadtranspired during the night. Eagerly they answered the questions, cheerfully they submitted to the examination of their effects, and thenfell silent and subdued, oppressed by the suspense that hung over theship like a cloud. Crew and passengers alike underwent the most rigidquestioning, the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the young andthe old. 

Early that morning, in fact some time prior to the time that Percivaltold his story, the wireless operator reported that his transmitter wasout of order. While he was satisfied that the apparatus had not beentampered with, he was plainly affected by the rather grim coincidence. He was an old and trusted man in the service, competent, efficient andloyal. 

His assistant, the night operator, however, had made less than half adozen voyages on the Doraine. He was an Englishman, a cripple; twicehe had been rescued after vessels on which he sailed were sent to thebottom by German submarines. His credentials were flawless. He was onduty during the night just past, and had picked up several indistinct, incomplete radio messages. There was nothing wrong with the receiving ortransmitting apparatus when he went off duty at six in the morning, andas his superior came on at the same hour, --they exchanged greetings atthe door of the wireless house, --it was absolutely impossible for anyone to have entered the well-guarded room without attracting attention. Cruise, the chief radio-man, had his assistant routed out of bed andtogether they worked like beavers over the disabled mechanism. 

Hour after hour, the nervous, uneasy passengers paced the decks. Fewremained indoors, and few possessed the calmness to loll in deck-chairs. 

Percival toiled cheerfully, but with eye and ear alert for the firstinkling of definite peril. With commendable thoughtfulness, he had shedthe clean white shirt and collar so generously supplied by his fellowtownsman, and had donned a commodious sea-jacket. 

He could not help observing the dark, suspicious glances cast upon himby the deck-walkers, nor were his ears proof against audible comments. Mothers nudged their children and said, in slightly lowered butdistinctly impressive tones:

"That's the man. He's a stowaway. "

"See, Wilfred, --see the man? No, no! The one with the mop, dear. Don'tgo near him. "

"What a dreadful looking creature he is. "

"The Captain captured him this morning away down in the bottom of theship. He was stealing a ride. "

"Poor fellow! He doesn't look like a bad man, does he?"

And so on and so forth, as the day went along. 

Masculine strollers had very decided opinions about him. Mr. Landover, the banker, stopped to discuss the toiling menial with Mr. Nicklestick, Mr. Block and Mr. Fitts. 

"He ought to be in irons, " said Mr. Landover, glowering at Percival. "That's what I told the Captain a little while ago. He's a bad egg, thatfellow is. I'm a pretty good judge of men, gentlemen, and I don't oftenmake mistakes. That fellow is a fugitive from justice, if he isn'tsomething worse. Observe the cut of his mouth--ah! see that? What did Itell you? Did you ever see a more evil grin?"

"Take it from me, " said Mr. Nicklestick, "that guy knows a good dealmore about what is going on aboard this ship than he lets on. He ain'tas simple as he looks. I told Captain Trigger just now that he ought togive him a dose of the third degree. That's the way to get to the bottomof this business. String him up by the thumbs till he squeals. What say, Mr. Fitts?"

Mr. Fitts, the architect, was a mild man. 

"He strikes me as a rather honest looking sort of chap, " he said, andwas promptly glared at by his companions. "Of course, " he hastened toadd, "I am not saying that he is all right. He may be as crooked as thedeuce. I'm only saying he's got a rather pleasing sort of face. "

"The most innocent, open-faced young fellow we ever had in the bank, "said Mr. Landover, "turned out to be the damnedest rascal I've everencountered. "

"How did you happen to have him in the bank if you are such a good judgeof men?" inquired Mr. Fitts, utterly without malice. 

Mr. Landover reddened. "My dear sir, I do not come in contact withevery employe of the bank. You forget that it is quite an immenseinstitution. "

"It sure is, " said Mr. Nicklestick. "I'm thinking of transferring ouraccount to your bank, Mr. Landover. We've been banking with--"

"I vas telling my vife at lunch, " broke in Mr. Block, twitching hisHebraic nose emphatically, --"not that we could eat any lunch, bygracious, no!--I vas telling her I bet my boots dere ain't enoughlife-boats to get as much as half of us off safe in case somethinghappens. I counted up all the life-boats I could see, and ven I estimatethe number of peoples on board, w'y, by gracious, the loss of lifevould be frightful, gentlemen. The only chance we would haf would befor approxi-madely fifty percent of the peoples on board to be killedoutright by the explosion. "

"I hear there is a detective from Chicago on board, with a prisoner, "ventured Mr. Fitts. "Why doesn't the Captain ask him to have a look atthis stowaway fellow?"

"What would be the good of that?" demanded Mr. Landover. "I never saw adetective in my life that knew what to do in an emergency. Soon asyou get one of them where he can't telephone in to headquartersfor instructions he's as helpless as a baby. Don't talk to me aboutdetectives. Why, this fellow would simply laugh in his face. "

"Just, as he is laughing in yours at this moment, Mr. Landover, " pursuedMr. Fitts pleasantly. 

"The damned rascal, " said Mr. Landover, and stalked away. 

"There goes one of the biggest figures in the United States, " said Mr. Nicklestick, looking after the banker. His remark was addressed to Mr. Fitts. "I wish I had his brains. "

"Dey vouldn't do you any good, Nicklestick, " said Mr. Block, "unless youhad his money too also. "

"If I had his brains, " said Mr. Nicklestick, "he wouldn't have hismoney, so what's the difference?"

CHAPTER III. 

Mr. Block looked uneasily out over the tumbling ocean, focusing his gazeon a section of the horizon that for want of something more definitethan mere hope lay in a direct line with the City of New York. 

"And ven you stop to think, " said he wistfully, "that we are stillsomething like six thousand miles from home, --oh, veil! Vat's the use? Ibet you I never go so far avay from my business again. Vat a fool I vasto make this trip ven the whole ocean is full of submarines and Germanagents and plotters and--Yes, vat a fool ven I had so many high-pricedmen vorking for me who vas crazy to come. But my vife she vould do it. Paris and London every year it used to be, so she must haf a littleholiday or she vill die, she say. Veil, here we are. And ven I thinkvat a long holiday it is going to be maybe, --by gracious, I could kickmyself for not giving in to my brother-in-law ven he begged so hard tobe allowed to make the trip because he needed the change from not beingavay from the office for five years, and his vife and children too. Hisvife she needed a change as much as he, vat with not being able to getinto any good hotels in the summer time and not being able to keepout of them in the vinter time, she vas nearly distracted. No, I vasselfish. My vife she vas selfish too, --and him her own brother. Vyshouldn't he haf a vacation vonce in awhile?"

He turned abruptly to the sailor who lounged near the perspiringPercival. 

"How far is it to land, my frient?" he inquired. 

The sailor touched his cap. "Which way, sir?" he asked solemnly. "Foreor aft?"

(Percival said to himself: "By golly, I'll bet that man is anAmerican. ")

"Vat? Land, --you know vat I mean, --the end of the ocean. How far avay isit?"

The sailor calculated. "Well, the nearest land, sir, I should say, isabout three hundred miles away, to port. "

"How deep is it here?" asked Mr. Nicklestick, moving away from the railsuddenly. 

The sailor glanced down at the water, squinted an eye, and then spokereassuringly. 

"It ain't half as deep here as it is a little furder on, " he said. "It'sonly a shade over three miles where we are now, sir. We're comin' tothe deepest part of the ocean, --ought to be there inside of a couple ofhours. Here, you! On the job, on the job!"

"You ought to search that man carefully, " advised Mr. Nicklestick. 

"I have, " growled the sailor. "He says he never uses it in that form. Iguess he's tellin' the truth. "

"Never uses what?"

"Tobacco, sir. "

"Oh!" said Mr. Nicklestick, and, catching a glimpse of Madame Oboskyemerging upon the deck, unceremoniously deserted his companions andhurried off to join her, his speed being suddenly accelerated by thespectacle of Mr. Shine, the motion picture magnate, who approached thelady from an equidistant station and with similar haste. Mr. Block, being a trifle near-sighted and in some doubt as to the whereabouts ofhis wife, peered here and there intently, and then bore down upon thecelebrated Russian dancer, who, it would seem, was in dire need ofconsolation. 

Mr. Fitts followed them with a glance over his glasses and then turnedto the sailor man. 

"I suppose it's against orders for me to speak to this man, " he said. 

"Yes, sir. "

The architect sighed, and walked away. 

The parade became more interesting as the lack of news from theinvestigators restored a sort of hopeful optimism to the breasts of theanxious company. Those who had maintained a stubborn air of bravado, now became almost offensively jaunty. Others, frankly terrified at theoutset, sauntered timidly away from the life-boats to which they wereassigned. Every one was glad that the Captain had ordered a life-boatdrill on the first afternoon out, and every one was glad that he hadignored the demand of Mr. Landover that the boats be lowered the instanthe discovered that his passengers were in peril. No news was good news, argued the majority, and jesting was in order. 

Peter Snipe, the novelist, got out a pad of paper and began jotting downimpressions. Madam Careni-Amori and Signor Joseppi exchanged the firstfriendly words they had spoken to each other in weeks, and in full viewof an entranced audience linked arms and strode bravely to and fro, theformer clasping a huge jewel case to her ample bosom, the latterchafing perceptibly under the weight of an invisible belt stuffed to itscapacity with banknotes and gold. Chilean ladies and Chilean gentlemen, dazzling Brazilian ladies and pompous Brazilian gentlemen, smugArgentinians, lordly Castilians, garrulous Portuguese, lofty Englishgentlemen and supercilious English ladies, friendly and irrepressibleAmericans, --all of them swinging their sea-legs with new-foundabandon--clattered solidly around the wind-swept circuit. New facesappeared in the procession, new voices were raised with energy, newfigures sprang into existence with marvellous rapidity. It seemed toPercival that the population doubled and tripled and quadrupled withevery throb of the powerful engines. He saw his "bunkie" of the nightbefore, --the man who was trying so hard to die and couldn't, --he saw himplunging along with the throng, pale but valiant, ferociously glaring atevery one who smoked. 

A small group of American nurses, some young and pretty, others youngand homely, but all of them sprightly and clear-eyed, --nine of them, infact--tramped by in "columns of three. "

Percival's guardian jerked his head in their direction after they hadpassed, and volunteered this bit of information:

"Hornswoggled, them girls was. Come all the way down from New Yorksix months ago. Promised double pay and plenty of work in the Americancolony. Sore as crabs, all of 'em. They got double pay all right, allright, but there was some misunderstandin' as to what single pay was tobe to start off with. Single pay turned out to be just whatever suitedthe people that employed 'em, seein's they were nearly seven thousandmiles away from God and up against it, so they're beatin' it back hometo volunteer for service in France. I heard one of 'em say she couldsave more money workin' for nothin' in France than she could earn ina year down here at double pay. What'd you say your name was, youngfeller?"

"Percival. "

"I mean your last name. "

"That's it. "

"Come off! Nobody ever had a last name like that. "

"You ought to hear what my first name is, --and my middle one, too. Yousaid a little while ago you'd never seen any one of my size with biggerand harder muscles. Well, if you knew what my full name is, old man, you'd understand why I began developing them, --I've got a lot more toothat you can't see, --when I first began going to school. "

"What is your other names?" inquired the sailor curiously. 

"Algernon Adonis, " said Percival. 

The sailor was silent for a moment, thinking of the proper thing to say. Then he said:

"You're dead right. It takes a heap of muscle to pertect a name likethat. "

Three women stopped in front of the two men. Percival kept his eyeslowered. 

"Why, --why, Auntie, --I know him, " fell from the lips of one of the trio. There was not only surprise in her voice but a trace of awe as well. 

The swabber looked up quickly. He found himself gazing straight into theeyes of the speaker. Her lips were parted, her head was bent slightlyforward, her eyes expressed utter incredulity and bewilderment. Hercompanion, an elderly lady, and a bespectacled young woman who carriedan arm-load of steamer-rugs, stared not at him but at the girl who haddelivered this startling announcement. 

"I mean I, --that is, I may be mistaken, " stammered the latter, suddenlyaverting her eyes. A wave of crimson swept over her face. 

"Undoubtedly, " exclaimed the elderly lady with great positiveness. Turning to inspect the object under discussion, she sustained a shockthat caused her to stiffen and draw in her breath quickly. 

Percival was smiling in a most friendly and encouraging manner. He wentfarther, and lifted his disreputable white canvas hat. 

"Oh, goodness!" exclaimed the young lady in a sort of panic. "Areyou--is it really you, Mr. Percival?"

Mr. Percival glanced inquiringly at his guard. 

"That's his name, Miss, " said that worthy. "And that's one of thethree reasons why he's got them muscular arms you're lookin' at. Sorry, though, but my orders are not to allow any one to speak to him. "

"Are you crazy, Ruth?" cried the older lady, aghast. "It's the stowawayevery one is talking about. The one who tried to blow up the ship. "

The young lady returned Percival's smile, --rather a diffident, uncertaineffort, to be sure, but still a smile, --and murmured something aboutnight before last at the Alcazar Grand. 

"What are you saying, Ruth? Do you mean to say you met this man at theAlcazar Grand?"

"Yes, Aunt Julia, " said the other wrinkling her pretty forehead inperplexity. "He--he danced with me. "

"He--you danced with him?" gasped the horrified Aunt Julia. 

"Don't you remember? Phil Morton introduced him to us. I--I can'tbelieve my eyes. "

"I can't believe mine, " snapped the elder woman. "I never saw thisfellow before in my life. The idea! Phil Morton having a friendlike--You are mistaken. And people are staring at us. "

"Just the same, " said her niece, stubbornly, "I did dance with him, and, what's more, I danced more than once with him. Didn't I, Mr. Percival?"

Mr. Percival, still beaming, again looked at the sailor appealingly. 

"You can tell it to me, " said the latter, furtively glancing to theright and left before making the concession. 

Looking straight into the sailor's eyes, Percival said:

"Yes, Miss Clinton. I had four dances with you, --and a lemon squash. "

"Wait a moment, Aunt Julia, " protested the young lady, holding back. "Would you mind telling me, Mr. Percival, how you happen to be here andin this plight? You didn't mention sailing on the Doraine. "

Mr. Percival, to the sailor: "Neither did you, Miss Clinton. Youcertainly are no more surprised than I am. "

"Why are you on board as a stowaway? Phil Morton told me you belong toan old Baltimore family and had all kinds of--that is, you were quitewell-off. "

Mr. Percival, to the sailor: "Please don't blush, Miss Clinton. I'm notthe least bit sensitive. Money isn't everything. I seem to be ableto get along without it. Later on, I hope to have the opportunity toexplain just why--"

"That'll do, " interrupted the sailor. "Here comes the Captain. "

Captain Trigger hove in sight around the corner of the deck building, with Chief Engineer Gray and the Second Officer. 

"I don't know what to make of you, " said Miss Clinton, sorely puzzled. Her aunt was clutching her arm. "You seemed so awfully jolly the othernight. And--and just look at you now. "

She moved away, followed by the bespectacled young woman and thesteamer-rugs, graceful despite the sudden yank with which her aunt sether in motion. Percival managed to keep an eye on her till she turnedthe corner. Then he sighed. 

The Captain halted in front of him. 

"Are you acquainted with Mrs. Spofford and her niece, Percival?" heinquired. 

"Miss Clinton has done me the honour to remember meeting me night beforelast at the Alcazar Grand, sir. Mrs. Spofford is not so generous. "

"I see, " said Captain Trigger reflectively. "You will report at once toMr. Gray. He will give you a less public job, as you call it. " A twinklecame into his eyes. "He doesn't like the hat you're wearing. Nor theshirt. Nor the boots. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"And, by the way, Percival, as soon as you are slightly refurbished Iwant you to stroll through the second cabin and if possible identify thetwo stewards who came to No. 22. Let me see, was it during the day or atnight?"

"Some time during the night, sir. Eleven or half-past, I should say. "

"Very well. "

An hour later he reported to Captain Trigger. "I have seen all of thestewards, sir, according to Mr. Codge, and I do not recognize any ofthem as the men who came to No. 22. I had a fairly good view of them, too, from beneath the lower berth. They spoke in a language I did notunderstand--"

"Do you understand German?"

"No, sir. I know it when I hear it, however. They were not speakingGerman. I may have been wrong, but I came to the conclusion that theywere transferring some one to No. 22. They brought in two suitcases, andleft them when they went out. I--"

Captain Trigger brought his clenched fist down on the table with aresounding, emphatic bang. 

"Now, we have it! That Chicago detective is right, by gad!"

He turned to the small group of officers clustered behind him. Freshalarm, --real consternation, --had leaped into the eyes of every man ofthem. 

"Then--then, that means our search isn't over?" cried Mr. Mott, startingup. 

"It does! Every inch of this ship, --every damned inch of it, from stemto stern. Overlook nothing, Mr. Mott. Don't delay a second. "

Percival was alone with the agitated Captain an instant later. Trigger'seyes were rather wild and bloodshot. The younger man's face blanched. Heknew now that the danger was real. He waited for the Captain to speak. 

"Percival, the two men you saw in 22 were not stewards. They were themen who jumped overboard. You tell me they left two bags there when theywent out of the room. Well, they were not there this morning when theregular steward went into the room. They have disappeared. But thecontents of those bags are still somewhere on board this ship. And ifthey are not found in time, by gad, sir, we will all be in Kingdom Comebefore we know it. "

CHAPTER IV. 

The first explosion occurred at eleven minutes past six. The chart-houseand part of the bridge were blown to pieces. Three dull, splinteringcrashes ensued in rapid succession, proving beyond question that thebombs were set to automatically explode at a given time. One of themwrecked the engine-room; another blew a great hole in the stern of theship, above the water line; the third destroyed the wireless house andcarried away a portion of the deck with it. 

There were eight in all of these devilish machines in the heart of theDoraine. Some time prior to the first explosion, the feverish searchershad uncovered four of them, cunningly planted in the most vital partsof the ship. Two were taken from the lower hold, one at each end of thevessel, and two more were found close to the carefully protected sectionof the vessel in which a rather insignificant but deadly shipment ofhigh explosives was stored. 

The discovery of the four bombs and their immediate consignment to thesea saved the ship from being blown to bits. With another hour to spare, it is more than probable the remaining four would have been found, notwithstanding the amazing cleverness with which they were hidden, sothorough and so dogged was the search. Confusion, terror, stupefactionand finally panic followed the successive blasts. The decks were strewnwith people prostrated by the violent upheavals, and many there were whonever got up again. Stunned, dazed, bewildered, those who were able todo so scrambled to their feet only to be hurled down again and again. Shrieks, groans, prayers, --and curses, --filled the brief, ghastlysilences between the muffled detonations. The great vessel surged androlled and plunged like a tortured animal. 

The splintering of wood, the rending of plates, the shattering of glass, and above all this horrid turmoil the mighty roaring and hissing ofsteam!... And the wild, gurgling cries of the frantic unfortunates whohad leaped into the sea!

Out of the chaos with incredible swiftness came the paralysis ofdespair, and out of that slowly but surely groped the never-failingcourage of the men who go down to the sea in ships. Hoarse commandslifted above the groans and prayers, and strong but shaken figuressprang with mechanical precision to the posts allotted them. Life-boatafter life-boat went down into the sea that glistened with the slantingrays of an untroubled sun, low-lying at the end of day. 

Fire broke out in several places. Down into the bowels of the shipplunged the resolute, undaunted heroes who remained behind, the chosencomplement reserved for just such an emergency by the far-seeing master. 

Above the hissing of steam and the first feeble cracklings of flame, rose the stentorian voice of the Captain from his post at the base ofthe demolished bridge. 

"Fight, men! Fight! Fight! There are dying men below! Stand by! Fightfor them!"

He was bloody and almost unrecognizable as he stood there clutching astanchion for support. His legs were rigid, his body swayed, but hisspirit was as staunch as the star that had guided him for fifty yearsthrough the trackless waste. 

And while these doughty, desperate spirits fought the fire and smokewith every means at their command, down in the suffocating depths of theship, braving not only the peril visible and at hand, but the prospectof annihilation in the event that a belated bomb projected its hideousforce into the nest of high explosives, --while these men fought, thesmiling, placid sea was alive with small white craft that bobbed in thegleaming sunlight, life-boats crowded to the gunwales with shuddering, bleak-eyed men, women and children waiting to pick up those who stayedbehind, and who inevitably would be driven overboard by the resistless, conquering flames. 

Cruising about at a safe distance from the menacing hull, these boatsmanaged to rescue a few of the beings who had leaped overboard in thefirst mad panic of fear, but many there were who went down never to beseen again. No boat was without its wounded--and its dead; no boat waswithout its stricken, anxious-eyed survivors who watched and prayedfor the salvation of loved ones left behind. With straining eyes theysearched the surface of the sea, peered at the occupants of near anddistant boats, stared at the scurrying figures on the decks of thesmoking steamer, hoping, --always hoping, --and always sobbing out theendless prayer. 

At last, as the sun sank below the blue-black horizon, exhausted, red-eyed, gasping men struggled up from the drenched, smotheringinterior of the ship, and hurled themselves, not into the sea, butprone upon the decks! They had conquered! The scattered, vagrant fires, attacked in their infancy, while still in the creeping stage, had beensubdued. 

Darkness fell. A chill night air stole out of the east, stealthilytrailing the sun. Will-o'-the-wisp lights bespecked the sea, surroundingthe black hulk that lay motionless in the center of the circle. Lanternsin a score or more of small boats bobbed fitfully in the gentle swell. Presently lights appeared on board the Doraine, one here, one there, then others in twos and threes, --some of them stationary, others movingslowly from place to place. The life-boats crept closer, still closer. Then, out from the silent hulk, came the voice of man. It was thevoice of the First Officer, hoarse and unrecognizable, but sharp withauthority. Other voices repeated the commands from various parts of theship, --commands to the encircling will-o'-the-wisps. 

The word came down to the scores who filled the boats that they were tolie by until sunrise, keeping in close contact with each other and at nogreat distance from the ship. The most thorough, careful examination ofthe steamer was in progress. If it was found that she was in no dangerof foundering, --and the word was most reassuring, --all of them wouldbe taken aboard in the morning. Nothing could be done at present. A fewhours more would tell the tale. 

And then, for the first time since the disaster, the note of the croakerwas heard. Each and every boat contained at least one individual whoknew exactly what ought to be done in a crisis like this. 

Mr. Landover addressed the benumbed, unresisting occupants of the boatinto which he had climbed with commendable reluctance as one of the lastpersons to leave the ship. 

"Why don't they begin sending out S. O. S. Calls? What's the wirelessfor, if not to be used at a time like this? Say, you! Yell up there tosome of those damned muddled-headed idiots and tell them what to do. Tell them that I say for them to send out calls for help. What's that?What did you say?"

The steward in charge of the boat repeated his remark and Mr. Landoverat once said he would report him to Captain Trigger. 

"But it won't do any good, " complained the banker despairingly. "CaptainTrigger hasn't got the backbone of a fishworm. He'd let you tell him togo to hell and never think of jacking you up for it. No wonder we'rein the fix we're in now. If he'd had the sense of a jelly-fish he'dhave--Here! Sit still! You'll upset the boat, you fool! What--What areyou going to do with that oar?"

"I'm going to crack you over the bean with it if you don't take backwhat you said about Captain Trigger, " said the steward, very earnestly. "Take it back, do you hear me?"

"My God, would you murder me for a little thing like that?"

Mr. Nicklestick aroused himself from the torpor of despair. 

"Take it back, Mr. Landover, --please do. If he misses you, he'll get mesure, it's so dark, and so help me God, I got nothing but the deepestrespect for Captain Trigger. He's a vonderful man, steward. Don't makeany mistake. You hear me say he is a vonderful man? Veil, --"

"Oh, shut up, Nicklestick, " grated Landover, crouching down behind thegentleman addressed. 

The steward sat down. "I'd do it in a minute if it wasn't for the womenan' children in this boat. "

"I intend to have every officer on that steamer arrested for criminalnegligence the instant I set foot in New York, " boomed the banker. "Icall upon every one of you, my fellow-passengers, to testify to theutter lack of precaution taken by the men in charge of that ship. Andwhat effort are they making to bring help to us now? By gad, if I wasin command of that vessel I'd be shooting wireless calls to every--GreatScott! What's that?"

"That's a rocket, you blamed old fool!" roared the steward. 

"Good God!" gasped the exasperated banker. "Are we having a celebrationwith fireworks?"

The dull, hapless occupants of the lifeboats watched with fascinatedeyes the first of the giant rockets that whizzed and roared its way upfrom the deck of the ship, an endless arrow of fire piercing the night. A loud report, the scattering of a hundred stars, and then--denserblackness than before. 

Morning came. Up out of the east stole a sickly grey. It turned slowlyinto pink, and then suddenly the sea once more was blue and smiling. In the heart of the dancing cordon lay the weirdly camouflaged Doraine, inert, sinister, as still and cold as death. No smoke issued from herstacks to cheer the wretched watchers; no foam, no spray leaped from hermighty bow. She was a great, lifeless thing. Waves lapped gently againsther sides and fell away only to come back again in playful scorn for thevast object that had rent and baffled them so long. On high flutteredthe Stars and Stripes, gay in the presence of death, a sprightlyharbinger of hope flaunting defiance in the face of despair. 

Men, stripped to the waist, grimy and shining with the sweat of hours, moving about in knots of three and four--always in knots of three orfour as if afraid to disintegrate--leaned upon the rail and watched theapproach of the crowded boats, looked down into pallid, anguished faceswith their eager, hungry eyes, eyes that devoured the groups along therail. Now and then a glad shout of joy went up from one of the boats, and a figure in the huddled mass was transformed into a responsive thingof life. 

In each of the square, black openings in the hull of the ship stoodmen with ropes and ladders. The great steel doors lay flat against thesides, swung wide to admit this time a human cargo. From the interior ofthe vessel came the brisk, incessant clatter of hammers against wood andsteel; from the decks broke the loud, commanding voices of men callingout directions; from the gliding, slapping boats went up the heartyshouts of understanding and obedience, the rattling of boat-hooks, thegrinding of oars in the locks, the murmur of voices revived. 

"Vomen and children first!" was the shrill, oft-repeated exhortationfrom one of the boats. 

And up in the centre of another sprang a fine, imposing figure, fromwhose lips rolled these thrilling words:

"By God, they're great! They're great, after all! God bless CaptainTrigger and every man-jack of them!"

"Get down!" roared his still unpacified critic, the steward. "You'llfall overboard, you dam' fool!"

The gaunt, coatless Mr. Mott commanded the port side of the vessel;Mr. Codge, the purser, the starboard. Fighting men in the breeches andleggings of the American Navy; blackened and bandaged stokers, sailorsand landsmen comprised the motley company that stood ready to drag theoccupants of the boats up into the dank, smoke-scented maw of the ship. 

One by one, in regular, systematic order, the lifeboats came alongside. There was no confusion, no bungling. They bumped gently against thetowering rows of plates, and, made fast by ropes with ample play, gave up in time their precious cargoes. No one lifted up his voice inrejoicing, for there were dead and injured back in the shadows; therewere grief-stricken, anxious men and women crouching out there in thesunshine; there were limp, unconscious women and half-dead children; andover all still hung the ominous cloud of catastrophe fat with propheciesof perils yet to come. 

They had gone out from a ship filled with a monstrous clangour andconfusion, they were returning to a tomblike hulk, a lonely mass inwhich echoes would abound, a thing of sighs and silences, the corpse ofa mammoth that had throbbed yesterday, --but never more. 

Up in the curving triangle of the forward deck were two long, canvas-covered rows. The dead! Forty-six twisted, silent forms lyingside by side, some calm in death, others charred and mutilated beyondall possibility of identification. Every man in the engine-room atthe time of the explosion was now a mangled, unrecognizable thing. Engineers, electricians, stokers, --all of them wiped out in the flash ofan eye, --burnt, boiled, shattered. Half a dozen women, as many children, lay with the silent men. 

The injured had been placed in staterooms on the promenade deck, regardless of previous occupancy or subsequent claim. There lay thescore and a half of seriously injured, and there toiled the ship'ssurgeon and his volunteer helpers. Sailor and merchant, worker andidler, scholar and dolt, steerage and first cabin, wealth and poverty, shared alike in the disposition of quarters and shared alike inattention. There was no discrimination. One life was as good as anotherto the doctor and his men, the poor man's moan as full of suffering asthat of the rich man, the wail of the steerage woman as piteous as thatof her sister above. 

Captain Trigger was one of the injured. He swore a great deal when thedoctor ordered him to bed. Ribs and a broken arm? Why the devil shouldhe be put to bed for something a schoolboy would laugh at? Mr. Shannonand two of the younger officers were killed by the explosion thatwrecked the bridge and chart house. Chief Engineer Gray died in theengine-room. Cruise was blown to pieces in the wireless house. Hisassistant, the cripple with the charmed life, was dead. 

A few seconds before the first explosion took place he blew out hisbrains with a big navy revolver. The last seen of Cruise was when heappeared in the door of his station, an expression of mingled rage andalarm on his face. Pointing frantically at the figure of his assistantas it shot down the steps and across the deck, he shouted:

"Get that man! Get him! For God's sake, get him!"

It all happened in a few seconds of time. The shrill laugh ofthe fleeing assistant, the report of the revolver, an instant ofstupefaction, --and then the dull, grinding crash. 

It will never be known what Cruise had heard or seen in the last momentsof his life. No one on board the Doraine, however, doubted for aninstant that he had discovered, too late, the truth about his misshapenassistant. They now knew with almost absolute certainty the identity ofthe odd man in that devilish trio, the man whose footsteps Percival hadheard, the man who stayed behind to guarantee the consummation of thehideous plot. Coward in the end, he shirked the death he was pledged toaccept. He knew what was coming. Unlike his braver comrades, he took thesimplest way. 

The count began. Late in the afternoon it was completed. There wereforty-six known dead on board the Doraine, the majority being membersof the crew. Seventeen persons were missing, chiefly from the steerage. Twenty-nine seriously injured were under the doctor's care. Some ofthem would not recover. A hundred or more persons suffered from shock, bruises, cuts and exposure, but only a few of them required or demandedattention. In spite of their injuries, they fell to with the spirit thatmakes for true heroism and devoted themselves to the care of the lessfortunate, or to the assistance of the sorely-tried officers and men whostrove to bring order out of chaos. 

Among the survivors were two American surgeons and a physician from RioJaneiro. They, with the nurses, all of whom had been saved, immediatelywent to the relief of the ship's doctor, and in short order animprovised hospital was established. There was a remarkable unanimityof self-sacrifice among the passengers. High and low, they fell to ina frenzy of comradeship, and worked side by side in whatsoever capacitythey were needed, whether fitted for it or not. No man, no woman, who was able to lift a helping hand, failed in this hour of need. Thebereaved, as well as those who were untouched by a personal grief, gaveall that was in them, tearfully, grimly, ardently. 

Menial labour fell to the lot of the lordly but uncomplaining Landover, to Block and Nicklestick, Jones and Snipe, and even to the preciousSignor Joseppi, who, forgetting his Caruso-like throat, toiled andsweated in the smoky saloon. 

Morris Shine, the motion picture magnate, the while he laboured amidstthe wreckage of the after deck, lamented not the cheerless task but theevil fate that prevented the making of the most spectacular film theworld had ever known. 

Madame Careni-Amori, Madame Obosky and her dancers; bejewelled Jewessesand half-clad emigrants; gentle women unused to toil and women who wereborn to it; the old and the young--all of them, without exception, --rosefrom the depths of despair and faced the rigours of the day withunflinching courage, gave out of a limitless store of tenderness allthat their strength could spare. 

And through a neglected, abandoned field of pearls and gold and preciousstones, limped unchallenged the tireless figure of "Soapy" Shay, diamond thief, a bloody bandage about his head, an exalted light inhis pain-stricken eyes. His one-time captor lay stark and cold in thegruesome line in the bow of the boat. It was "Soapy" Shay who staggeredout of the rack and smoke with the burly, stricken detective in hisarms, and it was "Soapy" Shay who wept when the last breath of lifecased out through his tortured lips. For of all the company on board theDoraine, there was but one whom "Soapy" knew, but one who called him byname and shared tobacco with him, --and that one was William Spinney, theman who was taking him back to a place where mercy would not be shown. 

After the sun had set and the decks were dark and deserted except forthe men employed in the gruesome business, the dead were lowered intothe sea, swathed in canvas and weighted with things that were made tokill, --shells from the gunners' hoard. Swiftly, methodically, one afterthe other, they slid down to the black, greedy waters, sank to thegrave that is never still yet always silent, to the vast, unexploredwilderness that stretches around the world. The thin little missionaryfrom the barren plateaus of Patagonia and the plump priest from theheart of Buenos Aires monotonously commended each and every one of themto the mercy of God!

The sun came up again in the morning over a smiling, happy sea thatlicked the sides of the Doraine with the tenderness of a dog. 

CHAPTER V. 

The plight of the hapless steamer could not be disguised. Even the mostignorant passenger knew that the wrecked engines could not be repairedor compounded. They knew that the Doraine was completely paralysed. Thepower to move at will was for ever lost, the force that had driven herresistlessly along the chosen path was still. The powerful propellerswere idle, the huge stern-post wrenched so badly that the rudder wasuseless. She was adrift, helplessly adrift. Of what avail the wheeland a patched-up rudder to the mass that lay inert, motionless on thesmiling sea?

Every one on board realized, with sinking heart, that the Doraine was togo on drifting, drifting no man knew whither, until she crossed thepath of a friendly stranger out there in the mighty waste. No cryof distress, no call for help could go crackling into the boundlessreaches. That was the plight of the Doraine and her people on themocking day that followed the disaster, and unless fate intervened thatwould be her plight for days without end. 

Mr. Mott, temporarily in command, addressed the passengers in the mainsaloon, where they had congregated at his request. He did not mincematters. He stated the situation plainly. It was best that they shouldrealize, that they should understand, that they should know the truth, in order that they might adapt themselves to the conditions he was nowcompelled of necessity to impose upon them. They were, so to speak, occupying a derelict. Help might come before nightfall, it might notcome for days. He hoped for the best but he intended to prepare for theworst. 

Without apology he laid down a rigid set of rules, and from these rules, he made it perfectly clear, there could be no deviation. The availablesupply of food was limited. It was his purpose to conserve it with thegreatest possible care. Down in the holds, of course, was a vast storeof consigned foodstuffs, but he had no authority to draw upon it andwould not do so unless the ship's own stock was exhausted. Passengersand crew, therefore, would be obliged to go on short rations. "Betterto eat sparingly now, " he said, "than not to eat at all later on. " Heconcluded his remarks in this fashion:

"Remember that we are all in the same boat. We don't know how long we'llbe drifting like this and we don't know where we're drifting to. It's aneverlastingly big ocean we're on. We ought to thank God we're not at thebottom of it now. If we're lucky we'll be picked up soon, if not, --well, it's up to us, every one of us, to make the best of it. We're alive, and that's certainly something. We'll all find it easier if we keepourselves busy. That's why I'm asking you, one and all, to do a goodday's work regularly, one way or another, from now until relief comes. We can't have any loafers or quitters on board this ship. That meanseverybody, rich and poor. You may think I'm putting a hardship on you, seeing as how you have paid for your passage and all that, but what I'mordering you to do ain't a marker to what you'd be doing if you were outthere in lifeboats, eight hundred miles from shore, and--well, we won'tgo into that. We've got to make the best of it, my friends. We're upagainst it good and plenty, that's the plain facts of the case. There'sno use in me saying it's all going to turn out right in a day or so, because I don't know a da--- blamed thing about it. We're in God'shands. Maybe it will help to pray, but I doubt it. All I've got to sayis this: go down on your knees as much as you like, but don't lick!"

Signor Joseppi lifted his voice, but not in song. In very bad English hewanted to know how long the Captain thought it would be before they wererescued, and when he was informed that it might not be for weeks or evenmonths, he cried out in worse English that he was ruined. He would haveto violate his contract! No impressario would think of engaging himagain! His wonderful American tour! If he was not rescued within aweek--Oh, my God, the consequences! He did not regret the paltry twothousand a week--for thirty weeks--but to violate a contract!

Mr. Mott looked rather helpless. He appreciated the fact that SignorJoseppi was a very great personage, but what was he saying? Wasit--could it be mutiny?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Joseppi, " he broke in, "but if Madame Amori is willingto take her regular turn at making up berths, I guess it won't hurt youto help every now and then in the dining-room. "

Signor Joseppi did not understand a word of it. He turned to the man athis elbow for enlightenment. 

"What did he say?" he whispered. 

"He says you have a perfectly marvellous voice and that he'd give twothousand any time to hear you sing, " replied his neighbour in excellentItalian. 

Whereupon the Signor favoured the severe-looking Mr. Mott with a beamingsmile and as deep a bow as he could make in such close quarters. 

"A most courteous officer, " he said to his neighbour. "It will be a joyto serve him, my friend. We should, one and all, do what he asks of us, no matter how mean the task. I, Joseppi, --you have heard of Joseppi, myfriend?--I shall be the example for all of you. Should he say, 'Washthe dishes, Joseppi, ' then will I wash the dishes. I, Joseppi, who neverwashed a dish in his life. Should he say, 'Cook the meals, Joseppi, 'then will Joseppi, who never cooked a thing in his life, then willJoseppi cook the meals. Should he say, 'Joseppi, scrub the floor, ' thenwill I scrub the floor. Should he say, 'Signor, steer the ship, ' thenwill I do my best to steer the ship. I who have never steered a ship. Solet me be your example, my friend. "

"That's fine, " said his neighbour, as they moved off together. "Butsupposing he asks you to sing occasionally to amuse the rest ofus, --what then?"

"Amuse?" cried the Signor. "Amuse?"

"Well, then, entertain. "

The great Joseppi pursed his lips. His brows grew dark with trouble. 

"Ah, but that would be violating my contract, " he said. "My contractspecifically states that under no circumstances may I--" Then suddenly, as if renouncing a sacred principle, his brow cleared, and he cried out:"Damn the contract! Joseppi's voice is his own. Joseppi will do as hepleases with it. Let him but make the request, my friend, --and Joseppiwill sing till he drops from exhaustion. " Lowering his voice to aconfidential undertone, he went on: "And that, my friend, is more thanyou will find Careni-Amori willing to do. There is one cold-blooded, grasping woman for you. Money! She thinks of nothing but money. Andflattery! Ah, how she thrives on flattery. That woman, my friend, beautiful as she is, has no more heart than a--"

"Excuse me, please, " broke in his listener, in English. "I've got tobeat it. "

He had caught sight of a slim young figure at the head of the stairs, --agirl in a rumpled blue serge tailor-suit and a tan-coloured sport hatpulled well down over her dark hair. He made his way through the crowdand caught her up as she passed out on the deck. 

"I've been terribly worried about you, " he began without other greeting, planting himself in front of her. "I thought maybe you might have--but, thank the good Lord, you weren't. "

She looked momentarily bewildered. Then she recognized him and held outher hand. Her face was serious, unsmiling, her voice low and tired. 

"Isn't it dreadful, Mr. Percival? What a terrible experience it hasbeen. Oh--and I am glad you came through safely, too. But--" as her eyesnarrowed anxiously, -"you were hurt. Your hands?"

"I can't very well shake hands with you, Miss Clinton, " said he. "Scorched a little, that's all. You'd think it was serious, the waythey're bandaged. One of the sailors fixed them up for me last night. Ican't tell you how glad I am that you are all right. And your aunt? Isshe--" He paused. 

"Auntie is all right, Mr. Percival. She's in bed. Shock and exposure. Wewere out there all night. In one of the boats. Katherine, --" her voiceshook a little, --"Katherine is gone. She leaped overboard. I--I saw hergo. I shall never forget it, --never. Aunt Julia's maid. For, oh, somany years, Mr. Percival. " She spoke in sharp, broken sentences, as ifbreathless. "You must have been terribly burned. Your hair, --your eyes, how bloodshot they are. "

"Smoke, " he said succinctly. "Singed on this side only. Really nothingserious. I got off very lightly. "

"Some of the men were frightfully burned, " she said with a shudder. "Iam trying to be a nurse. There are two men in my--in my--"

"I know, " he broke in hastily. "Don't talk about it, Miss Clinton. It'scorking of you to take hold like this. Corking!"

"Tell me about yourself. Where were you when it happened?"'

"I hate to admit it, but I was having a bite to eat down in the galley. You see, they'd somehow forgotten to give me anything to eat, --in theexcitement, of course, --and I had been so busy myself it didn't occurto me to be hungry till rather late in the day. I managed to get ondeck but not until after the bombs had all gone off. My friend, Mr. Gray, --the Chief Engineer, you know, --was down in the engine-room. That's how I got my hands burned. Not badly, I assure you, but--well, they may be a little scarred. You may not know it, but Mr. Gray and Icame from the same place. Baltimore. He belonged to a fine old familythere--and he'd been very kind to me. Poor fellow! Penned in. They neverhad a chance down there. He was--well, he died a few minutes after hewas dragged out here on the deck. His clothes were on fire. But let'snot talk about it. Tell me, is there anything I can do to make you morecomfort-able? Or your aunt? I'm what you might call officer of the deckat present. Mr. Mott--"

"You ought to be in bed, Mr. Percival, " she interrupted sharply. "Yourface is burned, too, --you must be suffering terribly. Wait! Now don'ttell me you are not. I know better. I've seen those other men who wereburned. I--"

"It's nothing, I tell you, " he interrupted, almost roughly. "There aredozens of men worse off than I am, and are they in bed? Not much. Thisis no time to lie down, Miss Clinton, if you've got a leg to stand on. See that little chap over there with his head and hands covered withbandages, --and barely able to drag his feet after him? He's an Americanjockey. I don't know his name. He was blown twenty or thirty feetacross the after-deck. Brought up at the bottom of a companion-way. He'snothing but cuts and bruises from head to foot. But he's around on hiswobbly little pins today, just the same, trying to edge in on some sortof a job. Couldn't keep him in bed. "

Miss Clinton's eyes were full of wonder and incredulity. "I cannotunderstand it, " she said. "My cousin was with the American Ambulance inFrance. He says that the slightest flesh wound sends a soldier to thehospital. "

"They haven't any choice in the matter. Besides, it isn't the same. Poordevils, they may have been at it in the trenches for weeks and months. Awound of any sort means a pleasant vacation. Still, " he went on aftera moment, a faint derisive smile on his lips, "we had a big husky up inCamp who insisted on going to bed every time he had the nosebleed. "

She was looking into his blood-shot eyes, infinite pity and concern inher own. 

"Will you let me dress your hands, Mr. Percival, whenever it isnecessary? I am getting used to it now. "

"It's good of you, Miss Clinton, " he replied gratefully. "But I thinkyou'd better stick to the fellows who really need attention. Don't addan extra ounce to your burden. You'll need all of your strength andcourage to face the demands of the next few days. Those chaps havejust begun to suffer. They're going to have a tight squeeze gettingthrough, --if they get through at all. You have not answered my question. Is there anything I can do for you or your aunt?"

"No, --not a thing, " she said. "We are quite all right. As Mr. Mott said, we are all in the same boat, Mr. Percival. We've got to make up ourminds to that. We can't have the comforts and the luxuries we had daybefore yesterday. Whatever is left of them, we must share with others. "

"Even with stowaways, " he ventured, but not fatuously. 

"No one is likely to forget how our only stowaway came by his wounds, "she said simply. "Despite your modesty, I am quite certain who it wasthat carried the Chief Engineer on deck, Mr. Percival. While his clotheswere burning, too. "

Percival turned his face away and many seconds passed before he spoke. 

"By the way, " he said at last, a trifle unsteadily, "at regularintervals the gun up there in the bow is to be fired. You must not bealarmed when it goes off. There is a chance that some ship may hear thereport. The British have a few warships down here, you know. They wouldinvestigate if they got word of big guns being fired anywhere in theseparts. Mr. Mott will give warning when the gun is to be fired, so thatevery one will understand. I--I just thought I'd tell you. "

"Thank you. Good-bye for the present. I must get back to my wounded. "

"Keep your spirits up, " he said. "That's the principal job now, MissClinton. Good-bye, --and thank you. "

He watched her as she moved off down the deck. He could not helpnoticing that her figure drooped perceptibly. In his mind's eye he sawher as she was but two days before, straight, graceful, full of the joyof living, with a stride that was free and swinging. He recalled herlovely, inquiring grey eyes as she stared at him on that ignominiousafternoon, the parted red lips and the smile that came to them, the smartly dressed hair, the jaunty hat, the trim sport suit oftan-coloured jersey--he recalled the alluring picture she made that day, and sadly shook his head. 

"Poor girl, " he said to himself, and walked slowly in the oppositedirection, favouring his left leg. 

He went down to see the Captain. The old seadog was stretched out in hisberth, a look of pain and utter despair in his eyes. One of the Russiandancers, a rather pretty girl of a distinctly Slavic type, was cleaningup the room. The ship's doctor had just left. 

"Feeling a bit more comfortable, sir?" inquired the young man. 

"I wish you'd get this girl out of here, " growled Captain Trigger withdifficulty. "I want to swear. "

"I think it would be all right to go ahead with it, sir, " said Percival. "She doesn't understand a word of English. "

The Captain shook his head. "I'll let it wait. " Then, looking at hisvisitor's bandaged hands: "How are your hands, my lad?"

"Fairly easy. The doctor says the burns are not deep. Mr. Mott asked meto step in and see you, sir, and give you my opinion as to the bombs. You see, I've had a great deal of experience with high explosives. Thereisn't the slightest doubt in my mind that you found and got rid of theworst of them. The officer in charge of the gun-crew agrees with me. They planted the big ones, the ones that were to destroy the ship, downin the hold, where there was less chance of discovery. The others, I amconvinced, were much smaller. It would have been impossible to hide abomb of any noticeable size in any of the places where the explosionsoccurred. They went about it very cunningly, very systematically. Ofcourse, no one saw the bombs that exploded, but judging by the actualresults, they could not have been very powerful. "

"And I also, " said the Captain, "thank God we dug out the big ones. "He scowled forlornly. "Dr. Cullen says I am in for a week of this, Percival. You don't think so, do you?"

Percival smiled. "I am more or less of an expert on explosives, sir, " hereplied. 

"Umph, " grunted Captain Trigger. "I see. Just the same, I think I'll beup and about by tomorrow. If I were your age, young man, you can bet Iwouldn't be lying here in this bed. "

"On the other hand, if I were your age, Captain Trigger, " said Percival, "I'd probably have sense enough to do exactly what the doctor ordered. "

Captain Trigger's mouth fell open. 

"Well, of all the damned--" he began, and then swallowed hard. 

CHAPTER VI. 

For three days and nights the Doraine drifted lazily in a calm andrippling sea, always to the southward. The days were bright and warm, the nights black and chill. It was the spring of the year in that zone. Without adequate navigation instruments, Mr. Mott was forced to rely toa great extent on speculation. He was able to make certain calculationswith reasonable accuracy, but they were of little real significance. It was, of course, possible to determine the general direction in whichthey were drifting, and the speed. They were slowly but surely edginginto the strong west wind drift. The Falkland Islands would soon be offto the right, with South Georgia and the Sandwich group farther to thesouth and east, the southernmost tip of Africa to the left. 

Not a sail had been sighted, not a sign of smoke appeared on thespotless horizon. At regular intervals the gun on the forward deckboomed thrice in quick succession, startling the lifeless hulk into asort of spasmodic vitality. Then she would sink back once more intothe old, irksome lethargy, incapable of resisting the gentlest wave, submissive to the whim of the slightest breeze. The ship's carpenterand his men were making slow headway in the well-nigh impossible task ofrepairing the rudder. Attempts were being made to rig up makeshift sailsto replace those licked from the supplemental spars by flames that hadearned considerable progress along the roof of the upper deck buildingbefore they were subdued. Blackened, charred masts and yards, strippedof rigging, reared themselves like pines at the edge of a fire-sweptforest. Sail-makers and riggers laboured stubbornly, but the work wasslow and the means of restoration limited. 

The occupants of the derelict had settled down to a dull, almost doggedstate of resignation. There were several deaths and burials, incidentsthat made but little impression on the waiting, watchful survivors. Eachsucceeding day brought forth additional watchers to swell the anxiousthrong, --resolute and sometimes ungovernable men who, defying theirwounds and the nurses, refused to stay where they could not have a handin all that was going on. 

Back of all this pitiful courage, however, lurked the unholy fear thatthey might be left to their fate in case the ship had to be hurriedlyabandoned. 

Mr. Mott watched the weather. Every seaman on board the Doraine scannedthe cloudless sky with searching, anxious eyes. They sniffed the steadywind that blew them farther south. Always they scanned the sky andsniffed the wind. 

"It's got to come sometime, " repeated Captain Trigger, after each reportfrom Mr. Mott. 

"I've known weather like this to last for weeks, " said the FirstOfficer. 

"In the South Pacific, yes, " said the Captain grimly. "But we're in theSouth Atlantic, Mott. "

On the sixth day the barometer began to fall. The breeze stiffened. The sea became choppy, and white-caps danced fitfully over the greenishstretches, growing wilder and wilder under the whip of a flouting wind. The two patchwork sails on the lumbering Doraine flapped noisily forawhile, as if shaking off their tor-por, then suddenly grew taut andfat with prosperity. The twisted, half-jammed rudder, --far from worthydespite the efforts of its repairers, --whiningly obeyed the man atthe wheel, and once more the ship felt the caress of the deep on hercleaving bows. 

The horizon to the north and west seemed to draw nearer, the contrastbetween the deepening blue of the water and the clear azure of thecontracting dome more sharply defined. The sky that had been cloudlessfor days still remained barren, but the sailor knew what lay beyond theclear-cut rim of the world. The man of the sea could look far beyond thehorizon. He could see the ugly clouds that were even now speeding downfrom the north, invisible as yet but soon to creep into view; he couldsee the mighty billows on the other side of that distant line; he couldhear the roar and shriek of the tempest that was still hundreds ofmiles away. It was the matter of but a few hours before the wind and thebillows would rush up to smite the Doraine with all their might underthe cover of a black and storm-rent sky. And what was to become of thevessel, floundering in the path of the hurricane?

Late afternoon brought the forerunner of the gale, a whistling, howlingsquall that frantically strove, it would seem, to outrace the balefulclouds. Then the Doraine was in the thick of the furious revel of seaand sky, plunging, leaping, rolling like a monstrous cork.... 

How she managed to weather the storm, God knows, and He alone. At themercy of wave and wind, she was tossed and hammered and racked fortwo frightful days and nights, and yet she remained afloat, battered, smashed, raked from stem to stern, stripped of everything the tempestcould wrench from her in its fury. And yet on the third day, when thestorm abated, the sturdy ship was still riding the waves, flayed butun-conquered, and the baffled sea was licking the sides of her once morewith servile though deceitful tenderness. 

But there was water in the hold. The ship was leaking badly. 

Up from the stifling interior straggled the unhappy inmates. They lookedagain upon the unbelievable: a smiling, dancing sea of blue under acanopy clean and spotless. It was unbelievable. Even the stoutheartedCaptain and the faithful mate, blear-eyed and haggard from loss ofsleep, were filled with wonder. 

"I can't understand it, " muttered Mr. Mott a dozen times that day, shaking his head in a bewildered sort of way. "I can't understand howshe did it. By right, she ought to be at the bottom of the ocean, andhere she is on top of it, same as ever. "

"Do you believe in God, Mr. Mott?" asked the Captain solemnly. 

"I do, " said Mr. Mott emphatically. After a moment he added: "I've beena long time coming to it, Captain Trigger, but I do. Nothing short of anAlmighty Being could have steered this ship for the past two days. "

The Captain nodded his head slowly, his gaze fixed on something aboveand far beyond the horizon. 

"I suppose it's too much to ask of Him, though, " said he, audiblycompleting a thought. 

Mr. Mott evidently had been thinking of the same thing, for he said:

"I'm sorry to say it's gained about two feet on the pumps since lastnight. "

Captain Trigger's face was very grave. "That means a couple of days moreat the outside. " His eyes rested speculatively on the three lifeboatsstill hanging above the starboard rail. There was another being repairedon the port side. "More than six hundred of us on board, Andrew. " Hishead dropped suddenly, his chin twitched. Mr. Mott looked away. 

"I don't believe it will come to that, " said he, an odd note ofconfidence in his voice. "'Tain't likely, old friend, that God would seeus safely through all we've had to tackle and then desert us in the end. Something's bound to turn up. I've a feeling, --a queer feeling, --thatwe're going to pull out of this all right. I know it looks mightyhopeless, but--"

"Just the same, Mr. Mott, " broke in the Captain, lifting his head andsetting his jaw, "you'd better set all available hands to work on therafts immediately. It's true God has helped us through a lot, but itstrikes me we'd better be on the safe side and help God a little atthis stage of the game. He is wonderful, Andrew, but He isn't wonderfulenough to keep man afloat very long unless man himself builds the raft. So don't lose a minute. "

Anxious, inquiring eyes followed the Captain and his First Officerwherever they went. On all sides were silent, beaten people who askedno questions, for they were afraid of the answers. Sick, dazed, haggard, they stared hopelessly, drearily out over the water; for all that theirfaces revealed the end was near at hand and they cared but little. Theyhad been through one hell; death could bring nothing worse. 

Here and there a stout-hearted optimist appeared among them, but hisvery cheerfulness seemed to offend. They did not want to hear his silly, stupid predictions that something was "sure to turn up. " They knewthat water was coming into the hold; they knew that there were but fourlifeboats and seven hundred men and women; they knew that the Dorainewas going down in a very few hours; they knew that the Captain had givenup all hope of rescue. Nothing could "turn up" now but death. 

Madame Obosky had taken a great fancy to Algernon Adonis Percival, andfor a most peculiar reason. He had, it appears, abused her roundlyon the first night of the storm for venturing on deck against orders, compelling him to risk what he considered a very precious life in asuccessful effort to drag her back to safety. As a matter of fact, he did not drag her back to safety. That feat was accomplished by twosailors who managed to reach both of them before another devastatingwave came up to tear his grip loose from the broken rail to which heclung with one bandaged hand while he kept her from sliding into the seawith the other. 

He was very angry. In the first place, his hands hurt him dreadfully, and in the second place she had forced him to disobey orders by goingout to save her. He did not mutter his complaints. He told her in plainand violent English what he thought of her, and if she went out thereagain he'd be damned happy to let her drown. 

Now, it had been some time since any man had had the hardihood ortemerity to upbraid Madame Obosky. No male had cursed her since sheleft Petrograd, --and that was four years ago. She had been cursed oftenenough by her own sex, --professionally, of course, --but the men shehad encountered since leaving Russia were either too chivalrous or toocowardly to abuse her, and she missed it terribly. 

She had gone through a very hard school in order to become one of theprincipal dancers in her land. Teachers had cursed her, teachers hadbeaten her, --and they always were men. 

When she was eighteen she married a lion-tamer. Who would have thoughtthat a man who trained lions could be gentle and mild, and as tame asthe beasts he had beaten for years? She was barely nineteen when hedied, quite suddenly. There was a dark rumour that she had poisoned him. True or false, the rumour persisted, and she soon became one of the mostpopular dancers in the Empire. For three years she had a manager whotreated her so vilely, so contemptuously that she tried to kill hiswife, whereupon the unnatural husband refused to have anything more todo with her. 

She was dancing in Germany when the War broke out, but succeeded ingetting over into Holland within a week or two, thereby escaping whatshe was pleased to describe as "something zat no woman could endure, nomatter how long she have live' in Russia. " Paris and London had treatedher kindly, courteously, but that was to be expected, she repined, because all of the real men were off at the front fighting. Instead ofbeing scowled at and ordered about by managers and orchestra leaders, orbrow-beaten by hotel-clerks and head-waiters, she met with nothingbut the most servile politeness, --due, she was prone to argue, to theunquestioned decadence of the French and English races. They were abloodless lot, those Frenchmen and Englishmen. 

It was the same in Rio Janeiro, Buenos Aires and Santiago, --and it wouldbe even worse in New York, Chicago and San Francisco. The Americans, shehad heard, were the worst of them all. They didn't know the first thingabout the majesty of sex. The Indian, she understood, was an exception. From all accounts, he knew how to treat his woman. 

She was homesick. Her heart leaped with joy when she discovered inPercival what she believed to be a domineering, masterful man. He hadbeen neither servile, nor polite, nor afraid. He had treated her, --atleast for an illuminating, transcendent ten minutes, --as if she werethe dirt under his feet, --and he was an American at that. True, he hadapologized a little later on, and had blushed quite becomingly in doingso, but nothing, --nothing in the world, --would ever make her believethat he was not the sort of man who could be depended upon to put awoman in her place and keep her there. He might apologize until he wasblack in the face and still be unable to take back the words he haduttered. Notwithstanding that he, in his apology, professed to havemistaken her in the darkness for one of the Portuguese immigrant womenwho didn't understand a word of English, she forgave him quite humbly, and that was going pretty far for Olga Obosky, whose identity ought notto have been a matter of doubt, even on the darkest of nights. 

She was a lithe, perfectly formed young woman, beautiful in an unusualway. Her body was as sinuous as that of a woodland nymph. Indeed, inone of her most spectacular dances, she appeared as a nymph, barefooted, bare-legged, and, --as Mrs. Spofford caustically remarked, --bare-faced. She possessed the marvellously clear, colourless complexion found onlyamong the purely Slavic women. Her lips were red and sensuous, her eyesdarkly mysterious and brooding, her hair as black as the raven's wing. 

When she smiled her face became strikingly alive, radiant, transformingher into a jolly, good-natured, wholesome girl in whom not the faintesttrace of the carnal was left. Every move, every thought, every impulsewas feminine; her imagination was feminine; she cast the spell of herfemininity over all with whom she came in contact. Primitively sensuous, she was also primitively wary, --and so she was ineffably feminine. 

Prior to the time of her dramatic encounter with the American, she hadfavoured him with no more than a glance or two of curiosity. He was astowaway; for a brief while he was suspected of being involved in theplot to blow up the ship. That was enough for her. Twice she had seenMiss Clinton talking with him, and once, just before the storm set in, she had paused to watch the young American girl renew the bandages onhis hands after dressing the burns. Half an hour after he had apologizedfor speaking so roughly to her, she decided that it was her duty to hunthim up and minister to him. The ship was rolling terribly, the din ofthe elements was deafening, but Olga Obosky was not a faint-heartedperson. She went forth boldly, confidently. Terrified, clingingobservers marvelled at her sure-footedness, at the graceful way in whichher sinuous body bent itself to the perilous heavings of the vessel. 

She found him in the reading-room, seated in a corner. Miss Clinton wasreadjusting the bandage on one of his hands. Half a dozen people werein the room, manfully defying the turmoil that had sent nearly every oneelse to bed in terror and distress. Without hesitation the dancer joinedthe couple in the corner. Her smile was engaging; a faint line betweenher eyebrows signified the concern she felt for him. 

WEST WIND DRIFT

Miss Clinton looked up from her work. Her smile was politelyaccusative, --and brief. 

"It is all my fault, " began Madame Obosky, standing before them, herfeet wide apart, her knees bent slightly to meet the varying slants andlurches of the vessel. She spoke the English language confidently andwell. Her accent, which was scarcely noticeable, betrayed the fact thatshe had mastered French long before attempting English. There wasa piquant boldness in the occasional misplacing of words and in thehaphazard construction of sentences. She was unafraid. 

"I have subject him to much pain and discomfort, " she went on, addressing the girl. "Those poor hand! It is I who should kiss them, Mademoiselle, not you. "

"Kiss them?" gasped Miss Clinton. 

"Of no doubt, " said Madame Obosky readily. "Do they not pain because ofme? Should I not kiss the hand who snatch me from the horrible death?From the Kingdom Come, as the doctor he say to me such a little timeago. And you, Mademoiselle, who have not been save by him fromthe Kingdom Come, you attend his hands and make him to be greatlycomfortable. "

"I am merely dressing the burns, Madame Obosky, " said the other, coldly. "I have done as much for the other poor fellows who--"

"I know, I know, " broke in the Russian, smiling. "You must not be offendwith me if I speak your language so badly. "

"It strikes me you speak it most acceptably, " interposed Percival. 

"What is your name?" she asked abruptly. "I have heard you called thestowaway. No one has speak your name to me. "

"My name is Percival, " said he. 

"It is a pretty name, " said she, dubiously. "But surely you do notapprove of me to call you Percival so quick. What is the other name, thename I am to--"

"That's the trouble with a name like mine. It sounds so beastly informalwhen you leave off the Mister, and it sounds as if you'd been a servantin the family for at least one generation if you stick it on. If youcould only call me Monsieur Percival, or Senor Percival, or even HerrPercival, it wouldn't seem so bad, but Mister Percival, --well, it'spretty soft, isn't it, Miss Clinton?"

"Please hold your hand still, Mr. Percival, " ordered the girl. Shesmiled up at the puzzled dancer. "His name is Mr. Percival, MadameObosky. That's the poor creature's last name. "

"Oh, I see. Then even you, Mademoiselle, may not call him Percival?"

"No, I do not call him Percival. "

"You see, she's known me such a very short time, " explained the subjectof these remarks. 

For a few moments Madame Obosky watched the bandaging process insilence. When she spoke again it was to say:

"You are so skilful, so gentle, Mademoiselle. I am taking a lesson ingentleness from you. "

"It is quite simple, Madame. I am very awkward. I have had noexperience. But if we ever live to see home again, I shall preparemyself at once for work in France. We are needed over there. We will beneeded more than ever, now that America has gone in. Our own soldiersare over there, God bless them. "

Madame Obosky gave her a pitying look. 

"You may thank your God that you do not live in a land of soldiers, Mademoiselle. If you did, you would not be so eager to nurse them backto life. Do I shock you? Voila! When you train a boy to be a soldier, asthe boys are trained in my country and in Germany, you make an animal ofhim, --and not a very nice animal at that. You nurse him back to life andstrength and in return for your kindness he outrages you, and goes hisway rejoicing. No, I do not like the soldiers. "

Miss Clinton did not look up. Percival stared at the Russian for amoment and then observed:

"I don't think you can say that of the French or the English, Madame. "

She shrugged her shoulders. "Quite true. But the French and the English, Mr. Percival, are decadent races, " she said coolly, as if there werenothing more to be said on the subject. "Please, Mademoiselle, " she wenton, briskly, "will you not let me see how you have prepared his hands? Imean, how have you, --is it right to say fixed them?"

"Dressed them, you mean, Madame Obosky. "

"I see. First you undress them, then you dress them, is it not so?"

Ruth Clinton laughed. The woman was quaint. 

"I am about to begin on the left hand. You may watch me, if you care todo so. "

"Will it not make you embarrass?"

"Why should I be embarrassed?" inquired Ruth, flushing. 

"I have said the wrong word, " lamented the other. "Nervous, --zat, --thatis the word. "

"They're not very lovely things to look at, " said Percival. "All red andblistery and greasy. Miss Clinton is a regular heroine to tackle 'em. "

"I have witnessed some very terrible sights, Mr. Percival, " saidthe Russian, her eyes narrowing. "Have you ever seen a little Jewishgirl, --but no, Mademoiselle, no! I have catch the look in your eyes. Ishall not tell you what I have seen. Go on! I shall be silent and takemy first lesson. "

Closely, intently she watched the process. When it was all over and thebottle containing ointment had been restored to the patient's pocket, she spread out her hands and exclaimed:

"It is not difficult. May I inquire where the gauze bandages are to beobtained, Miss Clinton? And do you always use the same safety pins?"

She arose early the next morning. Rousing her maid, she ordered her toapply to the ship's surgeon for bandages and to fetch them to her atonce. 

"I know, --yes, I know. You are dying, but do as I tell you. Thisinstant! Why should you, a great hulking beast of a woman, be dyingevery minute of the day while I, not half your size, am tingling allover with life? Go!"

"But, Madame, " groaned the wretched woman, rolling her eyes, "I shallbe dashed to pieces against the walls. I cannot stand. My legs will nothold me up. They--"

"Enough! That is no excuse. My legs manage to hold me up. "

"But, Madame, it is my legs I am speaking of. My legs are not likeyours. "

"Any fool can see that, " retorted her mistress, and the ungainly maidstaggered out on her mission. 

Later on, supplied with a roll of gauze, Madame Obosky set out in questof her preserver. Even the veterans among the seamen gazed upon herin wondering admiration as she made her way about the ship. She was arevelation to them. The increasing fury of the storm had driven all savethe hardiest sailors and a few of the non-praying male passengers totheir rooms. Now and then one or two of the courageous, devoted nursesappeared in the corridors, reeling from patient to patient, but exceptfor them the ship seemed entirely bereft of women. Small wonder thenthat the lithe, undaunted Russian created a sensation among the sailorswho themselves were cold with dread. 

She discovered him at last, coming up the steps from the devastatedengine room. He was with Mr. Mott and several other half-dressed men. Their faces were grave, --more serious than ever. They had been down toinvestigate the leak. Percival was stripped to the waist. The glare ofthe lanterns fell upon his broad shoulders and powerful arms, bronzedand burnished by the sun of the high hills. 

"Come, " she said, laying her hand on one of his brawny arms, "I havewith me the bandages. " She sent a swift glance over him, and smiled. "But I see you have not the bottle. Is it in your cabin, Mr. Percivail?"

He flushed darkly under his coat of tan. His companions stared for amoment, and then went on. 

"I am busy, " he said. "I haven't the time now, Madame Obosky. Thank you, just the same. " Then a sense of loyalty to the girl who had been kind tohim impelled him to add: "Besides, Miss Clinton has been taking care ofmy hands. She has got used to dressing them, so I--"

"But it is my duty now, " she protested. "She owes so little to you and Iso much. Come, let us procure the lotion. Where is your cabin?"

He held back. "You can't go to my cabin. "

"And why not?" she exclaimed, in surprise. "Does not Miss Clinton go toyour cabin?"

"No, she does not!"

"But she goes to the cabins of other men who are wounded. I have see herwith my own eyes. "

"That's different. They can't come to her. "

She looked searchingly into his eyes. 

"I see, " she said after a moment. "You are in love with her. "

"Ridiculous, " he exclaimed, scowling. 

"And so you prefer to have her fix your hands. I see, my friend. Voila!If so is the case, I am outcast. "

"But, confound it, it isn't the case, " he cried. "It's simply this: Iwouldn't for the world have her feel that I am not grateful, and that'sexactly what it would look like if I allowed you or any one else to buttin, Madame Obosky. "

"Butt in?" she said, a puzzled look in her dark eyes. "What is that?"

"It's English for interfere, " said he, shortly. 

She removed her hand from his arm. He was conscious of the abrupttermination of an exquisite thrill. 

"Very well, " she said, lifting her chin. "I shall not interfere. "

"Forgive me, please, " he said. "It's mighty good of you. Please don'tthink me ungracious. You understand, however, --don't you?"

"No, I do not, " she replied, shaking her head slowly. Suddenly her eyeswidened. "Is it because I dance in my bare feet, in my bare legs, thatyou think so vilely of me?"

He stared. "Good Lord! I don't think vilely of you, Madame Obosky. Iwasn't even aware that you danced in your bare feet and legs. "

"You have never seen Obosky dance?" she cried in astonishment. 

"Never. "

She frowned. "Then, my friend, I was wrong in what I say just now. Mostmen who have seen me dance think I am a bad woman, and so they eithercovet me or despise me. If you have not had ze pleasure of seeing me, Mr. Percivail, you do not either covet me or despise me. That is fine. It is good to know that you do not despise me. " Observing the expressionin his eyes, she went on calmly. "Oh, yes, I shall be very much pleaseto have you covet me. Zat--that is all right. But if you despiseme, --no, no, zat would be terrible. "

For a moment he was dashed. He did not know how to take her remark. Shewas a new, a strange type to him. After a sharp, quick look intoher eyes, however, he came to the conclusion that she was absolutelysincere. So far as she was concerned, it was as if she had said nothingmore outrageous than: "I shall be please to consider you one of myadmirers. "

"My dear Madame, " he said, smiling, "permit me to express the hope thatboth of us may go on to the end of our days without having our peace ofmind disturbed. "

She looked puzzled for a moment, and then favoured him with her broad, good-natured smile. 

WEST WIND DRIFT 85

"Spoken like a Frenchman, " she cried, and added, "and with equalsincerity, I fear. Go your way, Monsieur Percivail. I shall keep mygauze. Some day when we are very old people and very old friends I maythen be permitted to bandage your hands. At present, however, the riskis too great, eh? I am so inexperience. I might by accident tie yourhands in my clumsiness, and zat--that would make so much trouble forMiss Clinton to untie zem, --yes?"

Now there was mockery in her eyes. His face hardened. 

"I must be on my way, " he said curtly. "We have been looking things overdown below. The Captain is waiting for our report. "

He bowed and started off. She swung along at his side. 

"What have you discover, Mr. Percivail?" she inquired anxiously. 

"That, Madame Obosky, is something that will have to come from CaptainTrigger. "

"I see. That means it is bad. I see. "

The lurching of the ship threw her body against his. She righted herselfpromptly, but did not reveal the slightest confusion nor utter a word ofapology. 

"By Jove, you're a cool one!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe you knowthe meaning of fear. Don't you realize, Madame Obosky, that we are inthe gravest peril? Don't you know this ship has but one chance in athousand to pull through?"

"Ah, my friend, but it has the one chance, has it not? Surely I know themeaning of fear. I am afraid of rats and snakes and thieves--and drunkensoldiers. I am afraid of death, --terribly afraid of death. Oh, yes, Iknow what fear is, Mr. Percivail. "

"Then, why don't you show it now?" he cried. "Good Lord, I don't mindconfessing that I'm scared half to death. I don't want to die likethis, --like a rat in a trap. "

"But you are not going to die, " she proclaimed. "I too would be groaningand praying in my bed if I thought we were going down to the bottom ofzis dreadful ocean. But we are not. I have no fear. We shall come outall right on top, and some day we will laugh and tell funny storiesabout how everybody else was frightened but us, --us apiece, I mean. "

"Well, you're a wonder! And how the deuce do you manage to keep yourfeet with the ship rolling like this?"

"Two things I have been taught, since I am ten years old. First, to keepmy head, and second to keep my feet. In my profession, one must do both. You will always find me doing that. Good-bye, --we part here. You willnot forget zat--that I have retain the bandage for you? And you will notever despise me?"

As she turned away a roll that must have caused the wallowing vessel tolist thirty-five degrees at the very least, sent her headlong across thepassage. She slipped down in a heap. The same lurch had sent him reelingagainst the wall some distance away. She sat up but did not at onceattempt to arise. Instead she clutched frantically at her skirt to drawit down over her shapely ankles and calves. In the lantern light hesaw the dismayed, shamed look in her eyes and the vivid blush ofembarrassment that suffused her pale cheeks. As the ship rolled back, he moved forward to assist her, but she sprang lightly to her feet andhurried on ahead of him, disappearing around a corner. 

"Well, by gosh!" he muttered aloud in his surprise. "And she dances halfnaked before thousands of people every night! Can you beat it! The lastperson in the world you'd think would care a whoop, and she turns outto be as finicky about her legs as your grandmother. Women certainly arequeer. "

With this profound comment on the inconsistency of the sex, he tookhimself off in the direction of the Captain's quarters, --a forward cabinwhich served in lieu of the dismantled bridge. 

CHAPTER VII. 

He saw but little of her during the next forty-eight hours. Sheseemed to avoid him. At any other time and in other circumstances heundoubtedly would have resented her indifference, --a very common andnatural masculine failing, --but in these strenuous hours he was toofully occupied with the affairs of life and death. Once she stopped himto inquire if Miss Clinton was still able to dress his wounds. 

"Once a day, " he replied. "She's even pluckier than you are, MadameObosky. "

Her eyes narrowed. "Indeed?"

"Yes, because she believes we are going to die--every one of us. Ittakes pluck to keep going when you've got that sort of thing to face, doesn't it?"

Her gesture took in the dozen or more men within range of her vision. "It should take no more pluck to keep a woman going than a man, myfriend. You do not call yourself plucky, do you? I do not call myselfplucky. On the contrary, I call myself a coward. I am afraid to stay inmy stateroom. I like to be out in the open like zis. One has to be very, very brave, Mr. Percivail, to lie in one's bed all alone and think thatdeath is waiting just outside the thin little walls. Miss Clinton issplendid, but she is not plucky. She is as I am: afraid of the darkness, afraid to be alone, afraid to be where she cannot know and see all zatis happening. She has a woman's courage, just as I have it, --if youplease. It is the courage that depends so much on the courage of others. You think I am brave. I am brave because I am with trained, efficientmen. But if the Captain were to come to me now as I stand here, and sayzat the ship is to sink in ten minutes and that we all must go down withher, would I face it bravely? No! I would throw myself down on the floorand scream and pray and tear my hair. Why? Because the men had given up. I am kept up by the courage of others. That is the courage of woman. Shemust be supported in her pain, in her suffering, in her courage. "

"Well, if you put it that way, there are very few men who would takesuch an announcement from the Captain calmly. "

"Perhaps not, my friend. But if there were room for but few in theboats, who would stay behind and go down with the ship? Nine out ofevery ten of the men. Why? Not because they are all courageous, I grantyou, but because of the horrible conceit that makes them our masters. Pride and conceit constitute what stands for courage in most men. Thewild animal has no conceit, he has no pride. Does the male lion rush outto be shot in place of his mate? He do not. He sneaks off in the highreeds and leaves her to take care of herself. The Captain of thissteamer is so full of pride zat he will stay on it till it goes underthe wave. It is not courage, Mr. Percivail. It is his pride in thepower zat--that God has give to his sex. These men here, --you, myfriend, --face the danger now so unflinching for why? Because for agesand ages you have believe in and depend upon the man beside you, the menaround you. Zat is the difference between man and woman. Woman believesin and depends on man. She has no faith in her own sex. So, you see, myfriend, when I say I am brave and you say Miss Clinton is plucky, it isall because we have men about us who are so proud and conceited zat theywill die before they will admit that they are not as helpless and asweak as we are in times like zis. "

"You may be right, " he mused, struck by her argument. "It's usuallypride that makes a man stand up and fight another, even when he knowshe's sure to be beaten. It's neither confidence nor courage. It's justplain fear of being a coward. "

"You will admit then that I understand the wonderful male animal whichstruts on two legs and rules all the other animals of the world, eh?It is the only animal in the whole big world zat--that is completelysatisfied with itself. So now, Mr. Percivail, you have the secret of theso-called courage of the male of our species. "

"I hope all women haven't gone into the subject so deeply, " he said, with a rueful smile. "You make rather small potatoes of us. "

"Ah, do not say that, " she cried, "for, alas, I am denied potatoes. "

"Well, then, " he said, laughing, "if all women understood us as well asyou do, we wouldn't rule the world very much longer. They'd yank us offthe pedestal and revile us forevermore. "

"But you do not understand women, my friend. Did we not bring you intothe world? Are you not our sons, and therefore begotten to be kings? Wemay despise our husbands, we may loathe our brothers and our fathers, we women, but our sons are the gods we worship. My dear Mr. Percivail, women will go on being ruled to the end of time unless they ceasepopulating the world with sons. The mother of the man is the humblestsubject of the son and yet the proudest. The mothers of kings, ofemperors, of presidents, --do they think of them as kings, emperors, presidents? No. They think of them as sons. That is why man is supreme. That is why he rules. To be sure, we women are not always disposed tohave our husbands rule, we even go so far as to say they are not fitto rule, but alas, the men we are permitted to know the best of allare always the sons of some one else, and so there you have the endlesschain. Sons! Sons! Sons! Sons to create new sons, --sons without end, amen! God bless our sons!"

"And I say God bless our mothers!"

"In that one little sentence, Mr. Percivail, spoke from the heart, you have reveal the secret history of the world. You have account foreverything. "

"You are a million years old, Madame Obosky, " he said, looking into herdeep, unfathomable eyes. 

She smiled. "So? And which of my sons, Mr. Percivail, do you think Ilove the most? Cain or Abel?"

"It would take a woman to answer that question. There's one thingcertain, however. You loved both of them more than you loved Adam. "

"True. But I followed Adam out of the Garden of Eden and I have neverleft his heels from zat day to this. What more could any man ask?"

On the second morning after the storm, the lookout fixed his strainingeyes on a far-distant, shadowy line that had not been a part of theboundless horizon the day before. Dawn was breaking, night was liftingher sheet from the new-born day. He waited. He could not be sure. Minutes that seemed like hours passed. Then suddenly his hoarse shoutrose out of the silence:

"Land ho!"

Down into the heart of the ship boomed the cry, taken from the lookout'slips by one after another of the weary men below. The sweating, exhausted toilers who manned the pumps paused for a moment, then fellto work again revitalized. Out from the cabins, up from every nook andcorner of the ship scrambled the excited horde, fully dressed, theirfaces haggard with doubt, their eyes aglow with joy. Land! In everyround little window gleamed a face, --for a moment only along theportside. Nothing but the same endless ocean on the port side of theship. Water! Sick and wounded drew themselves up to the portholes andpeered out from their cells for the first time. 

"Where?... Where?" ran the wild, eager cry of the scurrying throng, andthere was disappointment--bitter disappointment in their voices. Theyhad been tricked. There was no land in sight! The glasses of the ship'sofficers, clustered far forward, were directed toward some point off thestarboard bow, but if there was land over there it was not visible tothe naked eye. A junior engineer saluted Captain Trigger and left thegroup. 

"There is land ahead, --a long way off, " he announced as he passedthrough the throng in the saloon deck. 

Up above the clamour of questions shouted from all sides as the crazedpeople flocked behind the messenger of hope, rose the voice of MorrisShine. 

"Land ahoy! Ahoy-yoy-yoy!" he yelled over and over again, his chinraised like that of a dog baying at the moon. 

Every person on deck was either carrying a life-belt or was alreadyencased in one. Grim orders of the night just past. Here and there wereto be seen men who clutched tightly the handles of suitcases and kitbags! Evidently they were expecting to step ashore at once. In any case, they belonged to the class of people who never fail to crowd theirway down the gang-plank ahead of every one else. The fashionable oceanliners always have quite a number of these on board, invariably in thefirst cabin. 

Percival ranged the decks in quest of Ruth Clinton. She was well aft onthe boat deck, where the rail was not so crowded as it was forward. Her arm was about the drooping, pathetic figure of her aunt. They werestaring intently out over the water, --the girl's figure erect, vibrant, alive with the spirit of youth, her companion's sagging under the doubtand scepticism of age. He hesitated a moment before accosting them. Nicklestick, the Jew, was excitedly retailing the news to them. He wentso far as to declare that he could see land quite clearly, --and so couldthey if they would only look exactly where he was pointing. He claimedto have been one of the very first men on board to see the land. 

Ruth was hatless. Her braided brown hair had been coiled so hastily, sothoughtlessly that stray strands fell loose about her neck and ears tobe blown gaily by the breeze across her cheek. Her blouse was open atthe neck, her blue serge jacket flared in the wind. Every vestige of thewarm, soft colour had left her face. She was deathly pale with emotion. 

Percival was suddenly conscious of a mist bedimming his eyes. 

Several people were grouped near them at the rail, listening toNicklestick. The stowaway joined them. As if sensing his presence, Ruthturned suddenly and saw him. 

"Oh!" she cried, tremulously. "Have--have you seen it, Mr. Percival?"

"No, " he replied. "It won't be visible for an hour or so longer. It'soff there all right, though. The lookout, Captain Trigger and severalothers got a glimpse of it before the sun began to pull the mist upto obscure it for a little while. That's mist over there, " he went on, turning to Nicklestick. "You couldn't see the Andes Mountains if theywere where that strip of land is hidden. It won't be long, Miss Clinton, before we all can see it. "

"How far away is it?" she asked, controlling her voice with an effort. "Do they know? Can they estimate?"

"I'll tell you what let's do, " he said abruptly. "Let's go up on the sundeck. I've got Mr. Gray's glasses. We can see better up there. Let meassist you, Mrs. Spofford. The sun deck is pretty badly smashed up andlittered with all sorts of wreckage, but we can manage it all right. "

Mrs. Spofford looked at him intently for a moment. 

"I remember you now, " she said. "Are you sure, --are you positive thereis land over there?"

"I have Captain Trigger's word for it. "

"And mine, too, " added Mr. Nicklestick. "You may rest assured, Mrs. Spofford, that we will all be on dry land before many hours. "

Percival leaned close to the speaker and said in a very low but emphatictone:

"You don't know a damn thing about it, so keep your trap closed. Ifyou're a man, you won't go on raising false hopes in the breasts ofthese women. "

Nicklestick's jaw fell. He whispered:

"My God, --ain't we--you don't mean to say there is a chance we won't beable to--"

But Percival had turned away with the two women. Mrs. Spofford took hisarm, leaning heavily against him. Her figure had straightened, however. He had given her the needed confidence. 

They made their way up the steps leading to the topmost deck. Others hadalready preceded them. A dozen men and women were looking out overthe sea through their binoculars. They recognized Landover, MadameCareni-Amori (clutching her jewel case), Joseppi, Fitts and one or twomore. Olga Obosky was well forward, seated on the edge of a partiallywrecked skylight and ventilator. Her three dancing girls were with her, closely grouped. 

Percival purposely remained near the steps. He knew full well that theship's hours were numbered. It was only a question of time when shewould founder. In the lee of one of the big stacks they huddled closetogether and waited for the lifting of the veil. The wind was soft butstrong up there at the top of the vessel. He took hope in the fact thatit was blowing toward the shores of that unseen land, and that slowlybut surely the Doraine was drifting thither. 

Suddenly, as if a curtain were being raised, a far-off line appeared onthe surface of the waters. Higher rose the curtain, and like magic theline developed into an irregular ridge, the ends of which sank below thehorizon far to the right and left. 

Percival felt the girl's hand on his arm. He shot a swift glance at herface. It was turned away. She staring at the mystic panorama that wasbeing unveiled off there on the rim of the world. Her eyes were bright, her lips were parted in the ecstasy of hope revived, she was breathingdeeply. The pulse in her smooth white neck was beating rapidly, rythmically. He could see it. He laid his bandaged hand firmly upon hersand pressed it tightly to his arm. She did not look around. Her everythought was centred upon the unfolding vision. 

"There are trees, " she murmured, enthralled. "Trees, --and hills! See, Auntie, --but oh, how far away they are!"

For many minutes they stood there without speaking. Then from all sidescame the clamour of voices, --shouts of joy, cheers, --laughter! Shelooked down at the clumsy object that imprisoned her hand, then swiftlyup into his eyes. A warm flush spread over her face. 

"I--I couldn't help it, " he muttered. "It--it looked so helpless. "

"It isn't half as helpless as yours, Mr. Percival, " she said, andsmiled. She waited a moment before withdrawing her hand. "May I have theglasses, please? Had you forgotten them?"

"Completely, " he replied. 

Later, while Mrs. Spofford was peering through the glasses, she drew himaside. 

"Tell me about the water in the hold, " she said in a low tone. "Is itserious?"

He looked grave. "Very. If you will take a peep over the side of theship, you'll see how low down she is in the water. "

"My aunt doesn't know the ship is leaking, " she went on, hurriedly. "Iwant to keep it from her as long as possible. " He nodded his head. 

"Mr. Mott figures we'll stay afloat for ten or twelve hours, --maybelonger. I will see to it that you and Mrs. Spofford get into one of theboats in case we--well, just in case, you know. We will be given amplewarning, Miss Clinton. Things don't look as hopeless as they did lastnight. " He pointed toward the land. "It looks like heaven, doesn't it?"

Her face clouded. "But only a very few of us may--" she stopped, shuddering. 

"You poor little girl!" he cried brokenly. He steadied himself and wenton: "It wouldn't surprise me in the least if every blessed one of us gotsafely ashore. "

"You do not believe that, Mr. Percival. I can tell by the look in youreyes. I want you to promise me one thing. If we have to take to theboats, you will come with us--"

He drew himself up. "My dear Miss Clinton, there is quite a differencebetween being a stowaway on an ocean liner and being one in a lifeboat. I have no standing on this ship. I have no right in one of her boats. Iam the very last person on board to be considered. "

She looked searchingly into his eyes, her own wide with comprehension. "You mean you will make no effort to leave the ship until every one elseis--"

He checked her with a gesture of his hand. "I may be one of the first toleave. But I'll not rob any one else of his place in a boat or his spaceon one of those rafts. I'll swim for it. "

Slowly the land crept down upon the Doraine. The illusion was startling. The ship seemed to be lying absolutely motionless; it was the land thatapproached instead of the other way round. A thin white beach suddenlyemerged from the green background to the left, to the right an ugly massof rocks took shape, stretching as far as the eye could reach. Fartherinland rose high, tree covered hills, green as emeralds in the blazingsunlight. On a sea of turquoise lolled the listless Doraine. 

Soundings were taken from time to time. Even the bottom of the ocean wascoming up to meet the Doraine. Its depth appreciably lessened with eachsuccessive measurement. From fifty fathoms it had decreased to ten sincethe first line was dropped. 

At four o'clock, Captain Trigger ordered a boat lowered and manned by apicked crew in charge of the Second Engineer. The Doraine was aboutfive miles off shore at the time, and was drifting with a noticeablyincreased speed directly toward the rock-bound coast. He had hoped shewould go aground in the shallow waters off the sandy beach, but therewas now no chance that such a piece of good fortune was in store forher. She was going straight for the huge black rocks. 

The boat's crew rowed in for observations. Even before they returned toreport, the anxious officers on board the vessel had made out a narrowfissure in the rocky coast line. They assumed that it was the mouth ofa small river. The Second Engineer brought back the astonishinginformation that this opening in the coast was the gateway to a channelthat in his judgment split the island into two distinct sections. Thatit was not the mouth of a river was made clear by the presence of acurrent so strong that his men had to exert themselves to the utmost toprevent the boat being literally sucked into the channel by the powerfultide, which apparently was at its full. This opening, --the water rushedinto it so swiftly that he was satisfied it developed into a gorgefarther back from the coast, --was approximately two hundred yards wide, flanked on either side by low lying, formidable bastions of rock. Thewater was not more than fifty feet deep off the entrance to the channel. 

Gradually the prow of the Doraine swung around and pointed straight forthe cleft in the shore. The ship, two miles out, had responded tothe insidious pressure of the current and was being drawn toward therocks, --at first so slowly that there was scarcely a ripple off herbows; then, as she lumbered onward, she began to turn over the water asa ploughshare turns over the land. 

At precisely six o'clock she slid between the rocky portals and entereda canal so straight and true that it might have been drilled and blastedout of the earth under the direction of the most skilful engineers inthe world. 

Soundings were hastily taken. Discovering that the water was not deepenough even at high tide to submerge the vessel when the inevitable cameto pass and she sank to the bottom, Captain Trigger renewed his effortsto release the anchor chains, which had been caught and jammed in thewreckage. He realized the vital necessity for checking the Doraine inher flight before she accomplished the miracle of passing unhinderedthrough the channel and out into the open sea beyond. The swiftness ofthe current indicated plainly enough that this natural canal was of nogreat length. 

The ship slid on between the tree lined banks. The trees were of thetemperate zone, with spreading limbs, thick foliage and hardy trunks. There were no palms visible, but in the rarely occurring open spacesa large shrub abounded. This was instantly recognized by Percival, whoproclaimed it to be the algaroba, a plant commonly found on the GranChaco in Argentina. While the woodland was thick there was nothing aboutit to suggest the tropical jungle with its impenetrable fastnesses. 

The keel of the half-sunken Doraine was scraping ominously on the bedof the channel. She shivered and swerved from frequent contact withsubmerged rocks, but held her course with uncanny steadiness, whileevery soul on board gazed with stark, despairing eyes at the land whichmocked them as they passed. Far on ahead loomed the lofty hills, andbeyond them lay--What? The ocean?

Gradually the passage widened. Its depth also increased. The ship nolonger scraped the bottom, she no longer caromed off the sunken rocks. On the other hand, water poured into her interior with increasing forceand volume, indicating a disastrous rent forward. She was sloshing alongtoward the centre of a basin which appeared to be half a mile wide andnot more than a mile long. Directly ahead of her the hills came downto meet the water. A dark narrow cut, with towering sides, indicated anoutlet for the tiny, inland sea. This gorge, toward which the Dorainewas being resistlessly drawn, appeared to be but little wider than theship itself. 

Almost in the shadow of the hills, and within a dozen ship-lengths ofthe sinister opening, the worn, exhausted, beaten Doraine came to restat the end of her final voyage. She shivered and groaned under thejarring impact, forged onward half her length, heeled over slightly--anddied! She was anchored for ever in the tiny landlocked sea, proudleviathan whose days had been spent in the boundless reaches of the opendeep. 

And here for the centuries to come would lie the proud Doraine, guidedto her journey's end by the pilot Chance, moored for all time in thestrangest haven ever put into by man. 

Behind the stranded vessel stretched centuries incalculable, and in allthese centuries no man had entered here. Screened from the rest ofthe world, untended by chortling tugs, unheralded by raucous sirens, welcomed only by primeval solitude, the Doraine had come to rest. 

She settled down on her bed of rocks to sleep for evermore, a mottledmonster whose only covering was the night; indifferent to storm andcalm, to time and tide, to darkness and light, she sat serene in herlittle sea. Her lofty walls towered high above the waves that broketremblingly against them, as if afraid of this strange object fromanother world that could rest upon the bottom of the ocean and yet be sofar above them. 

Reported "Lost with all on board!"

CHAPTER VIII. 

Captain Trigger and a dozen men stood on the boat deck with guns andrevolvers, facing several hundred sullen, determined men and womenfrom the steerage. Night had not yet fallen; the shadow of the hills, however, was reaching half way across the oval pool; gloom impenetrablehad settled on the wooded shores. 

With the striking of the Doraine, nearly every one on board was hurledto the decks. As she heeled over five or six degrees in settlingherself among the rocks, a panic ensued among the ignorant people of thesteerage. They scrambled to their feet and made a rush for the boats, shouting and screaming in their terror. Other passengers were trampledunder foot and sailors standing by the davits were hurled aside. 

Captain Trigger, anticipating just such a stampede, rushed up withmembers of the gun crew. The gaunt, broken old master of the Dorainedrove the horde back from the boats, but as he stood there haranguingthem in good maritime English he could see plainly enough that they werenot to be so easily subdued. The first panic was over, but they werecrazed by the fear that had gripped them for days; they believed thatthe ship was soon to sink beneath their feet; safety lay not more thana hundred yards away, --and it was being denied them by this heartless, unfeeling despot. 

They were mainly low-caste Portuguese bound for Rio and Bahia, and theyhad obeyed him through all those tortuous days out on the deep wherehe was the shepherd and they the flock. But now, --now they could wellafford to turn upon and rend him, for he had brought them safe to landand they no longer owed him anything!

"My God, I don't want to shoot any of them, " groaned the Captain, steadying himself against the rail. "But they've got guns, and they'recrazy. I--"

Some one touched his arm, and a firm, decisive voice spoke in his ear. 

"I'm used to handling gangs like this, Captain Trigger. They don'tunderstand you, but they'll damn soon understand me, if you'll turn thejob over to me. I'm not trying to be officious, sir, and I'm not evenhinting that you can't bring 'em to their senses. I know how to handle'em and you don't, that's all. They're not sailors, you see. And itisn't mutiny. They need a boss, sir, --that's what they need. And theyneed him damned quick, so if you don't mind saying the word, --they'reready to make a rush, and if--"

"Go ahead, Percival, --if you can hold them--"

"Say no more!" shouted Percival, and stepped resolutely forward. Hishands were bare, --swollen, red and ugly; his eyes were as cold as steel, his voice as sharp as a keen-edged sword. He spoke in Spanish to thewavering, threatening horde. 

"You damned, sneaking, low-lived cowards! What sort of swine are you?Have you no thought for the women you've trampled upon and beaten out ofyour path, --your own women, as well as the others, --think of them andask yourselves if you are men. I'm in command of this ship now, and, by God, I'm going to let you get into those boats and start for shore. Don't cheer! You don't know what's coming to you. I'm going to turn thatcannon on you up there and blow every one of you to hell and gone beforeyou get fifty feet from the side of this ship. You don't believe that, eh? Well, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Lieutenant Platt!" Hecalled over his shoulder in English to the young commander of the gun'screw. "Get some of your men up there and train that gun so as to blowthese boats to smithereens. Quick!" In a half-whisper to the Captain:"It's all right. I know what I'm talking about. " Then to the crowd:"We don't want you on board this ship a minute longer than we can help. We've got no room for dogs here among decent white men and women. Doyou understand that? We don't want to have anything more to do with you, either here or on shore. I'm going to wipe you out, every damned one ofyou, --men women and children. You're not fit to live. You're going toclimb into those boats now and get off this ship. You'll never realizehow safe you are here till you get down there in the water and hear thatgun go off. Come on! Get a move! We're through with you, now and forever. Nobody's going to stop you. I'm even going to have the boatslowered for you, so as not to delay matters. " He shouted afterLieutenant Platt: "Be lively, please. You've got your orders. We'll makeshort work of this pack of wolves. " To Captain Trigger, authoritatively:"Withdraw your men, sir. I am going to let them leave the ship. At once, sir! Do you mean to disobey me, sir?" He gave the captain a sly wink. 

Then as the bewildered master withdrew with his armed men, he turnedonce more to the mob. "Come on! Step lively, now! No rushing! Take yourturn. Every blasted one of you, I mean. What the hell are you hangingback for, --you? You were so darned eager to go a little while ago, what's the matter with you now? No one's trying to stop you. Here arethe boats. Put up your guns and knives, and pile in. You're absolutelyfree to go, you swine. We'll be damned good and rid of you, and that'sall we're asking. It's a pity to waste powder and cannon-balls on you, when we may have use for all we've got later on, killing the lions andtigers and anacondas up there in the woods, but I'm going to do it. "

He stepped back. Not a man or woman moved. They stood transfixed, packedin a huddled mass along the deck. Then a woman cried out for mercy. Thecry was taken up by other women. Percival halted and faced them oncemore. 

"Get into those boats!" he roared savagely. "It won't do you a bit ofgood to whine and pray and squeal. I'm through with you. You've gotto--Well?"

Several of the men edged forward, some of them trying to smile. 

"Would you kill us when we are only trying to save our lives?" calledout one of them, finding his courage and voice. 

"I don't want to talk to you. Get in!"

"We have as much right to remain on this ship as anybody else, " shoutedanother. "We paid for our passage. We are honest, hard-working--"

"No use! I'll give you ten minutes to climb into those boats. "

There was a moment's silence. "And what will you do if we refuse toleave the ship?" cried one of the men. 

"Be quiet!" he bawled at the whimpering women. "We cannot hear what thegentleman has to say. "

"You'll soon find out what I'll do, if you don't obey me inside of tenminutes, " replied Percival. 

"But the ship is not going to sink any more, " protested another, lookingover the rail timidly. "She is safe. We do not wish to leave now. "

Captain Trigger and Mr. Mott joined Percival. In an undertone he toldthem what he had said to the mob. 

"And now, gentlemen, " he whispered in conclusion, "it's up to you tointercede in their behalf. They're as tame as rabbits now. They knowthe ship's all right, and they believe I intend to blow 'em to piecesif they once put off in the boats. Start in now, Captain, and argue withme. Plead for them. They know who I am. They know I come from the hillsand they think I'm a bloodthirsty devil. They're like a lot of cattle. Most of them are simple, honest, God-fearing people, --and if we handlethem properly now we'll not have much trouble with them in the future. And only the Good Lord knows what the future is going to bring. "

So the three of them argued, two against one. Finally Percival threw uphis hands in a gesture of complete surrender. 

"All right, Captain. I give in. Perhaps you are right. I suppose itwould be butchery. "

There were a few in the crowd who understood English. These edgedforward eagerly, hopefully. They called out protestations against the"slaughter. "

"Tell them you have reconsidered, Mr. Percival, " said the Captain. "Theyare to remain on board. "

Excited shouts went up from the few who understood, and then the wordwent among the others that they were to be spared. There were cries ofrelief, joy, gratitude, and not a few fell upon their knees!

Percival stood forth once more. Silence fell upon the throng. 

"The Captain has put in a plea for you, and I have decided to grant it. You may remain on board. Now, listen to me! No one is to leave thisship until tomorrow morning. We are safe here. We are stuck fast on thebottom, and nothing can happen to us at present. Tomorrow we will seewhat is best to be done. Every man and woman here is to return to thetask he was given by Mr. Mott at the beginning of our troubles. We'vegot to eat, and sleep, and--Wait a minute! Well, all right, --beat it, ifyou feel that way about it. "

He stood watching them as they excitedly withdrew toward the bow of theship, breaking up into clattering groups, all of them talking at once. 

Captain Trigger laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. 

"If it had not been for you, Percival, this deck would now be redwith blood, --and some of us would be dead. You saved a very ticklishsituation. I take off my hat to you, and I say, with a full heart, thatI shall never again doubt your ability to handle men. No one but anAmerican could have tricked that mob as you did, my lad. "

From various points of vantage the foregoing scene had been witnessed byuneasy, alarmed persons from upper cabins. Overwhelmed and dismayed bythe rush of the yelling mob, the elect had fled for safety, urged by agreater fear than any that had gone before, --the fear of rioting men. 

A few of them, more daring and inquisitive than the rest, had venturedrecklessly into the zone of danger. Among them were Ruth Clinton andMadame Olga Obosky, who, disregarding the command of Mr. Mott, were theonly women to venture beyond the protecting corner of the deck building. They stood side by side, bracing themselves against the downward slopeof the deck. Half-way forward were Trigger and the armed gunners, and beyond them the dense, irresolute mass of humanity. Percival, inrounding the corner to go to the assistance of Captain Trigger, observedwith dismay the exposed position in which the two women had placedthemselves. He paused to cry out to them sharply:

"What are you doing here? Get back to the other side. Can't you seethere is likely to be shooting? Don't stand there like a couple ofidiots! You're right in line if that gang begins to fire. "

"He is tearing off his bandages, " cried Ruth, as Percival hurried on. 

Madame Obosky was silent, her gaze fixed intently on the brisk, aggressive figure of the man who had called them idiots. She understoodevery word he uttered to the Portuguese. Her eyes glistened with pridewhen he stepped forward to tackle the mob single-handed, and as he wenton with his astonishing speech she actually broke into a soft giggle. Her companion looked at her in amazement. 

"Why do you laugh?" she demanded hotly. "Those dreadful creatures maytear him to pieces. He is unarmed and defenceless. They could sweephim--"

"You would laugh also if you understood, " interrupted Olga, hereyes dancing. "Oh, what a grand--what do you call it?--bluff? What amagnificent bluff he is doing! It is beautiful. See, --they whisper amongthemselves, --they have back down completely. Wait! I will presently tellyou what he have said to them. "

"I never dreamed any man could be so fearless. Look at the odds againsthim. There are scores of them, --and they--"

"Pooh! Do you suppose he would stand up and fight them if they rushed athim? Not he! He would turn and run as fast as he could. He is no fool, my dear. He is a very intelligent man. So he would run if they make asingle move toward him. "

"I think this is rather a poor time to accuse him of cowardice, MadameObosky, in view of what he--"

"Have I accused him of cowardice?"

"I'd like to know what you call it. You say he would run if they--"

"But that would not be cowardice. It would be the simplest kind ofcommon sense. He is so very sure of himself. It is not courage. It isconfidence. That is his strength. He would be a fool to stand in frontof them empty-handed if they were to charge upon him. Maybe whenyou have known him as long as I have, you will realize he is not afool, --about himself or any one else. "

Ruth stared at her. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, Madame Obosky, I haveknown Mr. Percival as long if not longer than you have. "

"You do not know him at all, " rejoined the Russian brusquely. "Be still, please! I must hear what he is saying to them now. " A little later sheturned to the American girl and laid her hand on her arm. "For-give me, if I was rude to you. I am so very much older than you that I--how oldare you, Miss Clinton?"

"I am twenty-five, " replied the other, surprised into replying. 

"And I am twenty-six, " said Madame Obosky, as if she were at least twicethe age of her companion. "See! They are dispersing. It's all over. Come! Let us go back to the other side. "

"I am not ready to go back to the other side, " protested the Americangirl, resisting the hand on her arm. "Why should we go back, now thatthe danger is over?"

"Because we must not let him catch us here, " urged Olga in someagitation. 

"And why not, pray?"

The Russian looked at her in astonishment. "But surely you heard himtell us to go back to the other side. You heard him call us idiots, MissClinton?"

And Ruth Clinton suffered herself to be hurried incontinently around thecorner of the deck building. 

"Once, in Moscow, I saw a Grand Duke confront a mob of students who hadgathered in the street near his house. They were armed and they hadcome to destroy this man himself. There were hundreds of them. He walkedstraight toward them, his head erect, his shoulders squared, andwhen they stopped he spoke to them as if they were dogs. When he hadfinished, he turned his back upon them and walked away. They might havefilled him with bullets, --but they did not fire a shot. At the cornerhe entered his carriage and disappeared. And then what did he do? Hefainted, that Grand Duke, he did. Fainted like a stupid, silly younggirl. But while he was standing before zat---that mob of terrorists hewas the strongest man in Russia. Nevertheless, he was afraid of them. You have therefore the curious spectacle to perceive, Miss Clinton, ofone man being afraid of hundreds, and of hundreds of men at the sametime being afraid of one. Man, he is a queer animal, eh?"

It was not long before the doubts and fears of all on board the Dorainegave way to a strange, unnatural state of exhilaration. It representedjoy without happiness, relief without security, exultation withoutconviction, --for, after all, there still remained unanswered thequestion that robbed every sensation of its thrill. While they weresinging the hymns of thanksgiving in the saloon that night, andlistening to the fervent prayers; while they ate, drank and were merry, their thoughts were not of the day but of the morrow. What of themorrow? In the eyes of every one who laughed and sang dwelt theunchanging shadow of anxiety; on every face was stamped an expressionthat spoke more plainly than words the doubts and misgivings thatconstituted the background of their jubilation. They had escaped thesea, but would they ever escape the land? Had God, in answer to theircomplaints and prayers, directed them to a land from which the hand ofman would never rescue them? Were they isolated here in the untraversedsouthern seas, cast upon an island unknown to the rest of the world? Orwere they, on the other hand, within reach of human agencies by whichthe world might be made acquainted with their plight?

Uppermost in every mind was the sickening recollection, however, thatfor days they had ranged the sea without sighting a single craft. Theywere far from the travelled lanes, they were out of the worth-whileworld. Hope rested solely on the possibility that the hills and forestshid from view the houses and wharves of a desolate little sea-town setup by the far-reaching people of the British Isles. 

The story of Percival's achievement was not long in going the rounds. It went through the customary process of elaboration. By the time itreached his ears, --through the instrumentality of Mr. Morris Shine, themotion picture magnate, --it had assumed sufficient magnitude to drawfrom that enterprising gentleman a bona fide offer of quite a large sumfor the film rights in case Mr. Percival would agree to re-enact thethrilling scene later on. In fact, Mr. Shine, having recovered hisastuteness and his courage simultaneously, was already working at thepreliminary details of the most "stupendous" picture ever conceived byman. His deepest lament now was that he had neglected to bring a goodcamera man down from New York, so that on the day of the explosion hecould have "got" the people actually jumping overboard, and drowning inplain sight--(although he did not see them because of the trouble hewas having to get a seat in one of the life-boats), --and the woundedscattered over the decks, the fire, the devastation, the departure andreturn of the boats, the storm and all that followed, including himselfin certain judiciously preserved scenes, and the whole production couldhave been made at practically no cost at all. There never had beensuch an opportunity, complained Mr. Shine the moment he felt absolutelycertain that the opportunity was a thing of the past. 

"No wonder he got away with it, " said Mr. Landover to a group ofrejuvenated satellites. "He is hand in glove with them, that fellow is. I wouldn't trust him around the corner. Why, it's perfectly plain toanybody with a grain of intelligence that he's the leader of that gangof anarchists. All he had to do was to speak to them, --in their ownlanguage, mind you, --and back they slunk to their quarters. They obeyedhim because he is their chosen leader, and that's all there is tothis--What say, Fitts?"

Mr. Fitts, who was not a satellite but a very irritating Christiangentleman, cleared his throat and said:

"I didn't speak, Mr. Landover. I always make a noise like that when Iyawn. It's an awfully middle-class habit I've gotten into. Still, don'tyou think one obtains a little more--shall we say enjoyment?--a littlemore enjoyment out of a yawn if he lets go and puts his whole soul intoit? Of course, it isn't really necessary to utter the 'hi-ho-hum!' quiteso vociferously as I do, --in fact, it might even be better to omit italtogether, --if possible, --when some one else is speaking. There are, Igrant you, other ways of expressing one's complete mastery of the artof yawning, such as a prolonged but audible sigh, or a sort of muffledhowl, or even a series of blissful little shrieks peculiar to thefeminine of the species, --any one of these, I admit, is a trifle moreelegant and up-to-date, but they all lack the splendid resonance, --youmight even say grandiloquence, --of the old-fashioned 'hi-ho-hum!' towhich I am addicted. Now, if you will consider--"

"My God!" exclaimed the banker, with a positively venomous emphasis onthe name of the Deity. "Who wants to know anything about yawns?"

Mr. Fitts looked hurt. "I am sorry. My mistake. I thought you weretrying to change the subject when you interrupted my yawn. "

"That fellow's a damn' fool, " said the banker, as Fitts strolled off tojoin another group. 

"Try one of these cigars, Mr. Landover, " said Mr. Nicklestickpersuasively. "Of course, they're nothing like the kind you smoke, but--"

"Is mine out? So it is. No, thank you. I'll take a match, however, ifyou have one about you. "

Four boxes were hastily thrust upon the great financier. 

"Haf you noticed how poor the matches are lately, Mr. Landover?"complained Mr. Block. 

"As for this vagabond being superintendent of a mining concession up inBolivia, " continued Landover, absentmindedly sticking Mr. Nicklestick'sprecious, box of matches into his own pocket, "that's all poppycock. He's an out-and-out adventurer. You can't fool me. I've handled too manymen in my time. I sized him up right from the start. But the devil of itis, he's got all the officers on this boat hypnotized. And most of thewomen too. I made it a point to speak to Mrs. Spofford and her nieceabout him this morning, --and the poor girl has been making quite a foolof herself over him, you may have observed. Mrs. Spofford owns quite ablock of stock in our institution, so I considered it my duty to put aflea in her ear, if you see what I mean. "

"Certainly, certainly, " said Mr. Nicklestick. 

"She should have been very grateful, " said Mr. Block. 

Mr. Landover frowned. "I'm going to speak to her again as soon as shehas regained her strength and composure. Nerves all shot to pieces, youunderstand. Everything distorted, --er--shot to pieces, as I say. I daresay I should have had more sense than to--er--ahem!--two or three days'rest, that's what she needs, poor thing. "

"Absolutely, " said Mr. Nicklestick. 

"You can't tell a woman anything when she's upset, " said Mr. Block, feelingly. 

"Miss Clinton is a very charming young lady, " said Mr. Nicklestick, giving his moustache a slight twist. "I should hate to see her lose herhead over a fellow like him. "

"She is a splendid girl, " said Landover warmly. "One of the oldestfamilies in New York. She deserves nothing but the best. "

"That's right, that's right, " assented Mr. Nicklestick. "I don't knowwhen I've met a more charming young lady, Mr. Landover. "

"I didn't know you had met her, " observed the banker coldly. 

"Oh, yes, " replied Mr. Nicklestick. "We were in the same lifeboat, Mr. Landover, you know, --all night, you know, Mr. Landover. "

CHAPTER IX. 

Early the next morning, Percival turned out long before there were anysounds from the galley or dining-room. The sun had not yet cleared thetree-tops to the east; the decks of the Doraine were still wet with dew. A few sailors were abroad; a dull-eyed junior officer moodily pickedhis way through the debris on the forward deck. Birds were singing andchattering in the trees that lined the shore; down at the water's edge, like sentinels on duty, with an eye always upon the strange, giganticintruder, strutted a number of stately, bright-plumaged birds of theflamingo variety--(doubtless they were flamingoes); the blue surface ofthe basin was sprinkled with the myriad white, gleaming backs of wingedfishermen, diving, flapping, swirling; on high, far above the hills, soared two or three huge birds with wings outspread and rigid, monarchsof all that they surveyed. The stowaway leaned on the port rail andfixed his gaze upon the crest of the severed hill, apparently thetallest of the half dozen or so that were visible from his position. 

With powerful glasses he studied the wooded slope. This hill wasprobably twelve or fourteen hundred feet high. He thought of it as ahill, for he had lived long in the heart of the towering Andes. Behindhim lay the belt of woodland that separated the basin from the opensea, a scant league away. The cleft through the hill lay almost directlyahead. It's walls apparently were perpendicular; a hundred feet orless from the pinnacle, the opening spread out considerably, indicatinglandslides at some remote period, the natural sloughing off of earthand stone in the formation of this narrow, unnatural passage throughthe very centre of the little mountain. For at least a thousand feet, however, the sides of the passage rose as straight as a wall. That themountain was of solid rock could not be doubted after a single glance atthose sturdy, unflinching walls, black and sheer. 

"Well, what do you make of it?" inquired a voice at his elbow. He turnedto find Mr. Mott standing beside him. 

"Earthquake, " he replied. "Thousands of years ago, of course. Split theisland completely in two. "

"Sounds plausible, " mused the First Officer. "But if that is the case, how do you account for the shallowness of the water in the passage andout here in the basin? An earthquake violent enough to split that hillwould make a crack in the earth a thousand fathoms deep. "

"I have an idea that if we took soundings in this basin we'd find asection twenty or thirty feet wide in the centre of it where we couldn'ttouch bottom. The same would be true of the passage if we plumbed themiddle. When we came through it the ship scraped bottom time and again. As a matter of fact, --the way I figure it out, --she was simply bumpingagainst the upper edges of a crevice that reaches down God knows howfar. We took no soundings, you will remember, until we swung out intothis pool. I'll bet my head that that cut through the hill yonder is amile deep. Earthquake fissures seldom go deeper than that, I've heard. Generally they are mere surface cracks, a hundred feet deep at theoutside. But this one, --My God, it gives me the creeps, that crack inthe earth does. "

"Umph!" said Mr. Mott, his elbows on the rail beside the young man, hischin in his hands. He was looking down at the water. "Captain Trigger isplanning to send a couple of boats outside to survey the coast. Idare say he'll be asking you to go out in one of them. You're a civilengineer and so he feels--"

"Excuse me, Mr. Mott, but what's the sense of sending boats out toexplore the coast before we find out how big the island is?"

"What's the sense? Why, how are we to find out how big the island isunless we make the circuit of it? And how in thunder are we to find outthat there isn't a village or some sort of trading port on it--What areyou pointing up there for?"

Percival's finger was levelled at the top of the higher half of thebisected mountain. 

"See that hill, Mr. Mott? Well, unless we're on a darned sight biggerisland than I think we are, we can see from one end of it to the otherfrom the top of that hill. It isn't much of a climb. A few huskies withaxes to cut a path through the underbrush, and we might get up there ina few hours. I've been figuring it out. That's why I got up so early. Had it on my mind all night. The sensible thing to do is to send a gangof us up there to have a look around. Strange Captain Trigger neverthought of it. I suppose it's because he's an old sea-dog and not alandlubber. "

Mr. Mott coughed. "I fancy he would have thought of it in good time. "

"Well, in case he doesn't think of it in time, you might suggest it tohim, Mr. Mott. "

The result of this conversation was the formation of a party ofexplorers to ascend the mountain. They were sent ashore soon afterbreakfast, well-armed, equipped with axes and other implements, boat-hooks, surveying instruments, and the most powerful glasses onboard. Percival was in command. The party was made up of a dozenmen, half of them from the gun crew, with an additional complement oflaborers from the steerage. 

Ruth Clinton, as soon as she learned of the proposed expedition, soughtout Percival and insisted upon re-bandaging his hands. 

"You must not go into all that tangle of brushwood with your handsunprotected, " she declared, obstinately shaking her head in response tohis objections. "Don't be foolish, Mr. Percival. It won't take me fiveminutes to wrap them up. Sit down, --I insist. You are still one of mypatients. Hold out your hand!"

"They are ever so much better, " he protested, but he obeyed her. 

"Of course they are, " she agreed, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You didnot give me a chance last night to tell you how splendid you were intackling that crazy mob. I witnessed it all, you know. Madame Obosky andI. "

"Then, you didn't beat it when I told you to, eh?"

"Certainly not. What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do? I can only say this: I'm glad Captain Trigger's opinionof me is based on my ability to reason with an ignorant mob and not onmy power to intimidate a couple of very intelligent young women. "

"I wouldn't have missed it for worlds, " she said coolly. She looked upinto his eyes, a slight frown puckering her brow. "Do you know, MadameObosky had the impertinence to say that you would have turned tail andfled if those people had shown fight. "

He grinned. "She's an amazing person, isn't she? Wonderful faculty forsizing the most of us up. "

"You would have run?"

"Like a rabbit, " he answered, unabashed. "That's a little too tight, Ithink, Miss Clinton. Would you mind loosening it up a bit?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is that better? Now the other one, please. "

"Yes, I'm an awful coward, " he said, after a long silence. 

She looked up quickly. Something in his eyes brought a faint flush toher cheek. For a second or two she met his gaze steadily and then hereyes fell, but not before he had caught the shy, wondering expressionthat suddenly filled them. He experienced an almost uncontrollabledesire to lay his clumsy hand upon the soft, smooth brown hair. Throughhis mind flashed a queer rush of comparison. He recalled thedark, knowing eyes of the Russian dancer, mysterious andseductive, --man-reading eyes from which nothing was concealed, --andcontrasted them with the clear, honest, blue-grey orbs that still couldfall in sweet confusion. His heart began to pound furiously, he felt aqueer tightening of the throat. He was afraid to trust his voice. Howwhite and soft and gentle were her hands, --and how beautiful they were. 

Suddenly she stroked the bandaged hand, --as an amiable manicurist mighthave done--and arose. 

"There!" she said, composedly. Her cheek was cool and unflushed, hereyes serene and smiling. "Now you may go, Mr. Percival. Good luck! Bringback good news to us. I dreamed last night that we were marooned, thatwe would have to stay here for ever. "

"All of us?" he asked, a trifle thickly. 

"Certainly, " she replied, after the moment required for comprehension. Her eyes were suddenly cold and uncompromising. 

"If I never come back, " he began, somewhat dashed, "I'd like you toremember always, Miss Clinton, that I--well, that I am the most gratefuldog alive. You've been corking. "

"But it isn't possible you won't come back, " she cried, and he was happyto see a flicker of alarm in her eyes. "What--what could happen to you?It isn't--"

"Oh, all sorts of things, " he broke in, much in the same spirit as thatwhich dominates the boy who wishes he could die in order to punish hisparents for correcting him. 

"Are--are you really in earnest?"

"Would you care--very much?"

She hesitated. "Haven't I wished you good luck, Mr. Percival?"

"Would you mind answering my question?"

"Of course I should care, --very much indeed, " she replied calmly. "I amsure that everybody would be terribly grieved if anything were to happento you out there. "

"Well, --good-bye, Miss Clinton. I guess they're waiting for me. "

"Good-bye! Oh, how I wish I were in your place! Just to put my footon the blessed, green earth once more. Good-bye! And--and good luck, again. "

"If you will take a pair of glasses and watch the top of thathill, --there is a bare knob up there, you see, --you will know longbefore we come back whether this island is inhabited or not. I amtaking an American flag with me. If we do not see another flag floatinganywhere on this island, I intend to plant the Stars and Stripes on thathill, --just for luck!"

She walked a few steps at his side, their bodies aslant against theslope of the deck. 

"And if you do not raise the flag, we shall know at once that--thatthere are other people here?" she said, her voice eager with suppressedexcitement. "It will mean that ships--" Her voice failed her. 

"It will mean home, --some day, " he returned solemnly. 

The one remaining port-side boat was lowered a few minutes later and tothe accompaniment of cheers from the throng that lined the rails, themen pulled away, heading for a tiny cove on the far side of thebasin. The shore at that point was sloping and practically clear ofundergrowth. 

It was while Percival was waiting to take his place in the boat thatOlga Obosky hurried up to him. 

"I have brought my luck piece for you, " she said, and revealed in heropen palm a small gold coin, worn smooth with age and handling. "Carry it, my friend. Nothing will happen to you while it is in yourpossession. It was given me by the son of a Grand Duke. It was his luckypiece. It brought me luck, for he was killed zat very same day, and so Iwas saved from him. Keep it in your pocket till you come safely back andthen--then you shall return it to me, because I would not be without myluck, no. " She slipped her hand deep into his trousers pocket. "There isno hole. That is good. I have place it there. It is safe. Au revoir! Youwill have good luck, my friend. "

Withdrawing her warm hand from his pocket she turned and walked swiftlyaway. 

The throng on board the Doraine watched the party land; hats andhandkerchiefs were waved as the adventurers turned for a last lookbehind, before they disappeared into the forest. 

Hours passed, --long interminable hours for those who were not engagedin the active preparations for the landing of people and stores. CaptainTrigger was making ready to transfer the passengers from the ship at theearliest possible moment. He was far from certain that the Doraine wouldmaintain its rather precarious balance on the rocks. With safety notmuch more than a stone's throw away, he was determined to take nofurther risk. 

At last a shout went up from some one on the forecastle deck. It wastaken up by eager voices. Out upon the bald crest of the mountainstraggled the first of the explorers to reach the goal. They wereplainly visible. One after another the rest of the party appeared. Theillusion was startling. It was as if they had actually emerged from thetree-tops. With straining eyes the observers below watched the group offigures outlined against the sky. They spoke in subdued tones. As timewent on and the flag was not unfurled, they took hope; eyes brightened, the hushed tones increased to a cheerful, excited clatter, the tensenessthat had held them rigid for so long gave way before the growingconviction that another flag already fluttered somewhere beyond thescreening hills. 

And then, when hope was highest, the Stars and Stripes went up!

Captain Trigger assembled the ship's company on the forward deck laterin the day. The landing party returned about three o'clock. Acting onadvance instructions, they made their report in private to the Captain, denying all information to the clamorous passengers. A brief conferenceof officers, to which a number of men from the first cabin were invited, was held immediately after Percival's return. A course of action wasdiscussed and agreed upon, and then all on board were summoned to theopen deck to hear the result of the expedition. 

Percival reported the following facts and conclusions:

1. The island was approximately fifteen miles long and six or sevenmiles wide in the centre. The basin in which the Doraine rested wasabout midway between the extreme points, and about two miles inland fromthe northern shore. The southern slope of the range descended to a flatplain, or perhaps moor, some two miles across at its broadest point andran in varying width from one end of the island to the other. It wasgreen and almost entirely devoid of timber. The central eminence fromwhich the observations were taken was the loftiest of a range of ten ortwelve diminishing hills that formed what might actually be described asthe backbone of the island. The eastern extremity tapered off to along, level, low-lying promontory that ended in a point so sharp andwedge-like that it bore a singular resemblance to the forward deck andprow of a huge ironclad. The hills, as they approached the plateau, terminated altogether a couple of miles from the tip of land. Thewestern half of the island (strictly speaking, it was a separate bit ofland, cut off from its neighbour by the ribbon-like channel), was ofa more rugged character, the hills, in fact, extending to the sea, forming, no doubt, steep and precipitous cliffs, rising directly fromthe water's edge. 

(Since his return, Percival had painted on a large piece of canvas afairly accurate outline map of the bisected island as it had appearedto him from the top of the mountain. This crude map was hung up in fullview of the spectators, and served him well in an effort to make clearhis deductions. His original sketch is reproduced later on in thischronicle. )

2. There was no visible sign of past or present human habitation. Absolutely nothing appeared to indicate that man had ever attempted toclaim or occupy this virgin land. 

3. The channel through the mountain was less than one hundred feet wide. The walls of this gorge at one point were fully seven hundred feet high, absolutely perpendicular, and of solid rock. It was as if the hill hadbeen split wide open with one blow of a tremendous broad-ax. Beyond theelevation the channel spread out fan-fashion, creating a funnel-like bayor inlet from the sea. 

4. There was no other land in sight. As far as the eye could reach withthe aid of lenses there was nothing but water, a mighty waste of water. 

5. The wind, which had veered around to the south, was cold and dry. 

6. A curving beach of almost snowy whiteness extended for a mile or soalong the northern shore, about half way between the entrance to thechannel and the eastern point of land. Inside the fringe of trees thatlined this beach stretched what appeared to be a long strip of rollingmeadow-land, reaching far up the hillsides. 

7. Monkeys, parrots and snakes abounded in the forest. An occasionalgay-plumaged bird of the toucan variety, but larger than the ordinarySouth American species, was seen, while large numbers of plump birds ofthe tinamou family went drumming off through the forest at the approachof the party. Penguins strutted in complete "full dress" among the rocksof the southern shore. A dead armadillo of extraordinary dimensions wasfound near the foot of the slope. It was at least thrice the size ofthe common South American mammal. The same could be said of the singleiguana encountered. This large lizard, which was alive, must have beenfully ten feet from head to tail, and gave rise to the belief that thesupposedly extinct iguanodon, described by the scientists as attaining alength of thirty feet, might any day be discovered in the fastnessesof this unexplored land. The mere existence of this rather amiable, unfrightened monster was of the greatest significance. If it were knownto man, why had it never been reported in zoological or natural historyjournals?

8. The trees on the mountain-side were thick and stunted, withinterlocking limbs that created a sort of endless canopy which the sunwas unable to penetrate. The cool, dry wind that swept the slope wouldaccount, however, for the surprising absence of moisture in soil andvegetation in the dense shade of the trees. Oak, elm, spruce, evenwalnut, and other trees of a sturdy character indigenous to thetemperate zone were identified. What appeared to be a clump of cypresstrees, fantastic, misshapen objects that seemed to, shrink back interror from the assaulting breakers, stood out in bold relief upon arocky point to the south and west of the observation hill. Their gaunt, twisted trunks leaned backward from the sea; their shorn limbs, rackedby gales, were raised as if in supplication to the sombre forest behindthem. Trunks of enormous trees that had fallen perhaps a century agowere found half-buried in the earth, while scattered along the northernbase of the range, overlooking the downs, a few of their giganticcounterparts, alive and flourishing, raised their lofty heads far abovethe surrounding forest, and stood like sentinels, guarding the plain. 

9. A small river wound its devious way, with serpentine crooks andcurves, through the downs and across the meadow, emptying into the oceansome distance east of the gleaming beach. That its source was far upin the secretive hills was not a matter of conjecture, however;the incessant hiss and roar of a cataract was plainly heard by theinvestigators. 

Here is the crude, hastily sketched map of the island as made byPercival:

1. Position of stranded vessel in basin. 

2. Entrance to channel from the north. 

3. Entrance to channel from the south. 

4. Narrow strip of woodland from channel almost to river's mouth. 

5. Strip of meadow-land clear of trees. 

6. River. 

7. Stretch of lowland leading down to the water. 

8. Crest of hill from which observations were taken with range extendingeast and west. 

9. Point of rocks with cypress trees. 

10. Buttress-like west end of island. 

11. Dense forest reaching to channel. 

12. Rocky cape. 

13. Level plateau, without trees. 

14. Beach. 

15. Penguins. 

CHAPTER X. 

After the second reading of the foregoing report, the first beingin English, Percival requested his fellow explorers to verify thestatements contained therein. This they did promptly. He then went on:

"I am delegated by Captain Trigger and the officers of this vessel, after a conference just concluded, --and of which you are all wellaware, --to put before you as briefly and as clearly as possible thedecision that has been reached. I may as well confess in the beginningthat this decision is based on the recommendations of the party who wentto the top of the mountain. It is out of the question for the people onboard this vessel to go ashore until further investigations have beenmade. For the present, we are all safe here on board the ship. Wedon't know what perils exist in the absolutely unexplored country thatsurrounds us. Additional parties are to be sent out to explore theisland, especially the eastern section of it. There is no use mincingmatters. We are confronted by a very plain situation. It is possible, even probable, that we are the first human beings ever to set foot onthis land. If that be true, we are now so far out of the path of the fewships and steamers sailing these southern seas that there is small hopeor chance of a speedy rescue. As a matter of fact, it isn't likely thatwe will be discovered until the island itself is discovered, if you seewhat I mean. 

"There isn't the slightest chance that the ship we're now standing onwill ever float again. Even if the engines could be put in order, --andthat is possible, I am told, --the vessel cannot be raised. If anybodyhas been nursing that sort of hope, he may as well get rid of it. It's no good. We are here to stay, unless help comes from the outside. There's the plain English of it. We may have to live here on thisisland, like poor old Robinson Crusoe, for years, --for a great manyyears. I'm going to stop just a few seconds to let that soak into yourbrains. We've got to face it. We've got to make the best of it. It isnot for Captain Trigger or me or any one else to say that we will notbe taken off this island some time--maybe sooner than we think. Whalingvessels must visit these parts. That's neither here nor there. We've gotour work cut out for us, friends. We've got to think of the present andlet the future take care of itself. Now, here are the facts. We cannotremain on board this wreck. We've got to go to work, every man, womanand child of us. I don't know what can be cultivated on this island, butwe've got to find out, and when we find out we've got to begin raisingit. If we don't, my friends, we'll starve to death in a very short time. And what's more, if we do not get out there and put up houses to livein, we'll freeze to death when winter comes along. 

"According to calculations, winter is still five or six months away. Wewon't get it, I dare say, before next April or May. All you have to dois to take a look at all these trees around here to realize that we area long way from the tropics. It gets as cold as blazes here in the deadof winter, I can tell you that. We've got to build homes. We've got tobuild a camp, --not a flimsy, half-way sort of camp, but a good, solid, substantial one, my friends. There is what you might call a minorityreport in regard to the situation. Captain Trigger asked me to speakfor him and others who look at it as I do. Mr. Landover, who is, Iunderstand, one of the leading bankers in the United States of America, contends that we are well enough off as we are, on board the Doraine, where we've got cabins and beds and shelter from the elements. He may beright. All I have to say to him is this, --I don't believe I mentionedit at this conference, Mr. Landover, simply because I'm one of thoseunhappy individuals who always think of the brilliant things I mighthave said when it's too late to say them, --all I have to say is this: ifMr. Landover and his supporters expect to sit snugly on this ship whilethe rest of us build houses and plant crops, and then conclude to comeout and bone the rest of us for a square meal and a nice warm place tosleep, they are going to be badly fooled. We're all equal here. A coupleof million dollars, more or less, doesn't cut any ice on this littleisland. What counts here is muscle and commonsense and a willingness touse both. 

"A little while ago I asked Mr. Landover how much money he has with him. He informed me that while it wasn't any of my business, he has aboutfive hundred dollars in American money and a couple of hundred pesosbesides, but that his letter of credit is still good for fifteenthousand. Mr. Nicklestick has about five hundred dollars in money, and so has Mr. Block and one or two others. They've all got lettersof credit, express checks, and so forth, and I suppose there is awheelbarrow full of jewellery on board this ship. Now, if money is totalk down here, I wish to state that the men and women from the steeragehave got more real dough than all the first and second cabins puttogether. They haven't any letters of credit or bank accounts in NewYork, but there are a dozen men in the steerage who have as much as twoor three thousand pesos sewed up inside their clothes. So far as I canmake out, the only people who can afford to hire anybody to build ahut for them, and pay for it in real money, are the plutocrats from thesteerage. 

"Mr. Landover's letter of credit is good for fifteen thousand if he evergets back to New York, but it isn't worth fifteen cents here. His lifeis insured for one million dollars, I am told. I don't know who thebeneficiaries are, but, whoever they are, they are going to put in aclaim for the million if he doesn't show up in New York pretty shortly. He is going to be declared officially dead, and so are all the rest ofus, after a reasonable time has elapsed. Now, I don't say that we arenever going to be rescued. We may be found inside of a month. Some of usdon't quite realize the fix we are in. Mr. Codge, the purser, was sayinga little while ago that a lady from the first cabin nearly took his headoff when he told her it was impossible to send a cable message to herpeople in Boston. A number of passengers have already demanded thattheir passage money be refunded. 

"You have doubtless heard how I came to be on board this steamer. I ama stowaway. I have no standing among you. I haven't a penny in mypocket, --aside from a luck-piece that doesn't belong to me. I wanted toget back to the States so that I could carry a gun or something over inFrance. I wanted to fight for my country. I wasn't thinking very muchabout my life when I started for home and France, but I want to say thatI'm thinking about it now. I don't intend to starve or freeze to deathif I can help it. I am going to fight for my life, not for my country. 

"This is no time to be sentimental. It is no time to sit down and pityourselves or each other. God knows I am just as sorry for myself as youare for yourselves, but that isn't going to get me anywhere. We've gotto work. That means all of us. It means the women as well as the men. It means the women with soft, white hands and the men who never did astroke of manual labour in their lives, just as much as it means thepeople who have never done anything else but work. Something will befound for every one of us to do, and, ladies and gentlemen, we will haveto do it without whining. 

"Captain Trigger is accountable for the cargo on board this ship. Naturally he is opposed to our confiscating anything that has beenentrusted to him for safe delivery. He takes a very sensible attitude, however. He will officially protest against the removal of anything fromthe hold of his vessel, but he will not employ force to resist us whenwe begin to land stores, foodstuffs and all that sort of thing. Heunderstands the situation perfectly. 

"Now, here is what we will have to do. We must select a site for ourcamp, --or town, you may well say, --and we must build upon it withoutdelay. That is to be our first step. Details will come later. There areover six hundred of us here. We represent a fair-sized village. We havemechanics, carpenters, farmers, surveyors, masons, --and merchants, tosay nothing of cooks, housekeepers, and so on. The ship contains allsorts of tools to work with, canvas for temporary quarters, beds andbedding, cooking utensils, --in fact, we have everything that RobinsonCrusoe didn't have, and besides all that, we've got each other. We arenot alone on a desert island. We are, my friends, as well off as thePilgrims who landed on Plymouth Rock, and we are better off than thehardy colonists who laid the foundation for the country that fliesthat flag up there. Centuries ago bold adventurers set out to discoverunknown lands. They were few in number and poorly equipped. But theyventured into the wilderness and built villages that grew to be cities. They went through a thousand hardships that we will never know, and theysurvived. 

"Captain Trigger and the others selected me to make this talk toyou because I have had some practical experience in establishing anddeveloping a camp, such as we will have to build. Experience has taughtme one thing above all others: work, hard work of a constructive nature, is our only salvation. Unless we occupy ourselves from one day's end toanother in good, hard, honest toil, we will all go mad. That's the longand the short of it. If we sat still on this boat for thirty days, doingnothing, we'd lose our minds. There isn't a man in this crowd, I amsure, who wouldn't work his head off to spare the women an hour ofhardship. But the greatest hardship you women could possibly know wouldbe idleness. There will be work for every one to do, and we can thankGod for it, my friends. We will have to work for nothing. We will haveto help each other. There is but one class on this island at present, and that is the working class. 

"We've all got people at home waiting for us. By this time the wholeworld knows that the Doraine is three weeks overdue at Rio Janeiro, andthat no word has been had from her. The ocean is being searched. Ourfriends, our relatives are doing everything in their power to get traceof this lost ship. You may depend on that. In a little while, --a fewweeks, at best, --the ship will be given up for lost. We will be countedas dead, all of us. That's a hard, cruel thing for me to say, and I hateto say it, --but we've just got to realize the position we're in. It'sbest that we should look at it from the worst possible angle. I do notspeak jestingly when I say that we may as well consider ourselves deadand forgotten. I am as full of hope and confidence as anybody and I aman optimist if there ever was one, but I don't work on the theory thatGod takes any better care of an optimist than He does of a pessimist. 

"It will require months, maybe years, for us to construct a ship, andeven then it will not be big enough to transport all of us. The most wecan hope for is a craft that will be stout enough to go out and bringhelp to the rest of us. I am trying, at Captain Trigger's suggestion, to convince you that we can't build a ship, that we can't expect to getaway from this island by our own endeavours, unless we go about it inthe proper and sensible way. That means, first of all, that we mustsafeguard ourselves against time. We've got to live and we've got tokeep our strength. 

"Mr. Landover has made a very generous proposition. He agrees to give ahundred thousand dollars to any boat's crew that will take one of theselifeboats and make port somewhere. He fails to mention the compensationthey are to receive if they never make port. He forgets that this bigship floundered around for a good many days without sighting anythingbut water. He would have been perfectly safe in offering a hundredmillion dollars, because he would never be called upon to pay it. Iunderstand, however, that his offer still stands. 

"Tomorrow morning surveying parties will be sent ashore to look for apossible site for our town. Volunteers will undertake this work. As soonas possible thereafter a temporary camp will be set up, and practicallyevery one on board will be moved from this ship. Captain Trigger anda few chosen men will remain on board. It is his wish, ladies andgentlemen. He is the captain of the Doraine. He will not leave her. Weare all here today, and alive, because Captain Trigger would not leavehis ship. We owe our lives to him. This is not the time to propose threecheers for the gallant master of the Doraine. It is not the time tocheer for anybody or for anything. We do not feel like cheering. We've done all the praying that is necessary, we've offered up all thethanksgiving that the situation calls for, so now we've got to roll upour sleeves and go to work. "

He, stepped down from the gun-platform. There were no cheers. Everyvoice was stilled, every face was set. Many seconds passed before therewas even the slightest stir among those who had listened so intently. 

Then the few English-speaking people from the steerage began to whisperhoarsely to their bewildered companions. 

BOOK TWO

CHAPTER I. 

The warm, summer season was well-advanced in this far southern landbefore the strenuous, tireless efforts of the marooned settlers began toshow definite results. 

Some six weeks after the stranding of the Doraine, staunch log cabinswere in course of completion along the base of the hills overlooking theclear, rolling meadow-land to the north and east. Down in the lowlandsscores of men were employed in sowing and planting. The soil was rich. Farmers and grain-raisers among the passengers were unanimously ofthe opinion that almost any vegetable, cereal or fruit indigenousto Argentina (or at the worst, Patagonia), could be produced here. Uncertainty as to the duration of the warm period, so vital to thegrowing and maturing of crops, was the chief problem. No time was to belost if there were to be harvests before the cold and blighting weatherset in. 

It was extremely doubtful if the spring and summer seasons combinedcovered more than five months in this latitude. Assuming that theclimate in this open part of the world was anything like that of theFalkland Islands, the rainy season was overdue. Midwinter usually comesin July, with the temperature averaging between 35 deg. And 10 deg. Above zero over a period of four or five months. At the time of thewreck, the thermometers were registering about 70 deg. During the day, and dropping to 50 deg. Or thereabouts after nightfall. This wouldindicate that spring was fairly well-advanced, and that midsummer mightbe figured on as coming in January. It was now the end of November. Warmweather probably would last until February or March. Possibly theywould be too late with their planting, but they went about it speedily, determinedly, just the same. 

All of them had had crop failures before. All of them had seen thelabour of months go for naught in the blight of an evening's frost, orthe sweep of a prairie fire. So here on this virgin isle, in soil whosesod had never been turned, they sowed from the bins of the slumberingship. Wheat and oats and flax, brought from the Argentina plains;potatoes, squash and beet-root; even beans and peas were tried, but withsmall hope. And there were women ready to till the soil and work thegardens, women to draw the strangely fashioned ploughshares as willingbeasts of burden, to wield the hoe and spade, and to watch for thecherished sprout that was to glorify their deeds. 

The ring of the ax resounded in the forest; the clangour of hammer andnail, the rasp of the saw, the clatter of timber went on from dawn todusk, --for there was no eight-hour law in this smiling land, norwas there any other union save that of staunch endeavour, no otherBrotherhood except that of Man. There was never a question of wage, never a dispute as to hours, never a thought of strike. Every labourerwas worthy of his hire, --and his hire was food!

The Doraine was gradually being dismantled. She was being stripped ofevery bit of material that could be used in constructing and furnishingthe huts. The new camp lay not more than a mile and a half from thebasin. A road had been cleared through the wood from the small, hastilyconstructed dock and runway on the eastern side of the basin to the openterritory beyond. 

Material, supplies, equipment were carried through the densely shadedavenue, and later on, after the warehouses and granaries had been built, the leafy lane witnessed the transportation of ton upon ton of stores, patiently borne in hundredweight lots, in bushel bags, in clumsyparcels, by men whose work seemed endless; wheat, barley, oats, sugar, coffee and other commodities entrusted to the steamship company fordelivery in the United States. Tobacco, canned and refrigerated meats, olives, flour, figs and dates in large quantities were included in thevast cargo, to say nothing of the enormous supply of canned fruits andvegetables. Washed wool, tanned leather, homespun cotton and woollencloth, silks, hides, furs, rugs, laces, linseed oil, blankets, --allthese came ashore in course of time, but of the sinister treasure thathad inspired the destruction of the ship, i. E. , the manganese, the rubber, the nitrates, the copper bars, and the stacks of highexplosives, not a pound was moved. All this was left for another andmore leisurely day. 

In the end, the once luxurious liner was to be reduced to "skin andbones, " to employ a trite but eminently appropriate phrase. Ultimatelyshe became a black, unlovely skeleton, bereft of every vestige of herformer opulence. Her decks were torn up and the timbers hauled away tomake floors in the huts; the doors, mirrors, stairways, windows, rails, carpets, pipes, bathtubs, toilets, lamps, every foot of woodwork fromstem to stern, berths, washbasins, kitchen ranges, boilers, --in fact, everything that man could make use of was taken from the ship, leavingnothing of her but a hollow, echoing shell through which the wind howledor moaned a ghostly requiem. 

Much of this material was carefully stacked or stored away against theday when it could be utilized in the construction of a small but sturdyship, in which a chosen company of sailors were to fare out to sea oncemore in search of the world they had lost. 

Tireless and indomitable engineers later on succeeded in transferringportions of the damaged machinery, including dynamos, to the camp, wherein course of time their skill and ingenuity bade fair to triumph overseemingly insurmountable difficulties in the matter of restoration. 

Fully six weeks elapsed, however, before the women were allowed to leavethe ship for their new homes on the land, and even then they came but afew at a time and only as huts were ready and fully equipped to receivethem. Each hut contained a combination kitchen and living-room, with asingle bedchamber. A substantial fireplace, built of stone and mortar, with a tall chimney at the back, was a feature in every house. Thecracks between the logs, and all chinks, were sealed with thick layersof mortar; the ceilings, made of stout saplings, were treated in asimilar manner, while the roof, resting on a sturdy ridge-pole, andsecurely anchored, was of three layers of poles, interstices mortaredand the whole covered with a vast quantity of seaweed, moss and reedsheld in place by several well-fastened sections of iron railing from thedecks of the Doraine. 

While the huts were uniform in size, shape and construction, therewas nothing to prevent the occupant from subsequently enlarging andimproving his house. For the present, however, the interests of all werebest served by speed and compactness. 

The superintendent of construction was Algernon Adonis Percival. Asa matter of fact, the end of the first week found him occupying theposition of General Manager for the whole enterprise, an unsolicitedhonour but one which he was resolved that no one, great or small, should deride. He had one stormy "run-in, " as he described it, with Mr. Landover and his group of satellites. This occurred about the middle oftheir first week on the island when practically every able-bodied manfrom the Doraine was at work cutting a way through the forest or inconstructing the dock at the water's edge. As the incident is entitledto a very definite place in this narrative, a more or less extendedaccount of it may be given here and now, even at the risk of beingclassed as a digression, or a step backward in the sequence of thehistory. 

Mr. Landover, Mr. Block, Mr. Nicklestick and two or three other menwere grouped on the after-deck early one morning decrying the brainlessscheme to build a camp out there in the open. Their audience includedseveral women, among them Mrs. Spofford, Ruth Clinton, MadameCareni-Amori, Madame Obosky, Mrs. Block and a couple of loquacious RioJaneiro ladies. 

Percival bore down upon this group. He wasted no time in getting to thepoint. 

"We've been at work for two days out there, gentlemen, and up to datenot one of you has turned to with the rest of us. The understanding wasthat--"

Mr. Landover whirled on him, white with anger. "That will do!" heexclaimed. "Clear out! I do not intend to allow any such riff-raff asyou to order me to--Oh, pray do not be alarmed, ladies! This rowdy isnot likely to assault me. Nothing will happen, I assure you. Clear out, you bum, --do you hear me?"

Percival was smiling. "I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, Mr. Landover. As I was saying, it was understood that every man on this ship who iswell enough to--"

"Can't you see that there are ladies present? Haven't you an atom ofdecency about you?"

"--understood that every man on this ship was to do his share of thework laid out. I owe these ladies an apology for reminding you in theirpresence that the boats are leaving for shore and that if you do not getoff in the next relay you will be compelled to swim to that landing overthere, --and I doubt very much whether any of you can make it. "

"Wha-what's that?" demanded Mr. Block. 

Mr. Landover was speechless. A hard glitter came to Percival's eyes, thesmile left his lips. 

"You heard what I said, Mr. Block. I'll make it plainer, however. If youmen don't get into the next boat leaving this ship, I'm going tohave you thrown overboard and made to swim to your work. I regretexceedingly, ladies, that I have been obliged to resort to harsh wordsin your presence, but time is so precious that I can't afford to givethem a private audience. "

"Oh, my goodness gracious!" cried Mrs. Block, twisting her fat hands inan agony of alarm. "Maybe you better go, Moses. You vas nearly drowndedtwice yet in pool at White Sulphur. "

"This is the most outrageous, high-handed, --" began Landover, explosively, but stopped short as Percival levelled his unlovelyforefinger at him. 

"Cut it out, Mr. Landover, --cut it out, " he snapped, inelegantly. "Now, listen to me. For two days you and these boon companions of yours havebeen loafing on the job. While the rest of us have been working likedogs, you and your friends, --you needn't look insulted, because by thelooks of things they are your friends, --you've been sitting up heretalking to the ladies, smoking cigars, and telling every one howsuccessfully you conduct a bank in New York. Now, Mr. Landover, you'renot an old man. If you were, I'd be the first to suggest the easiestsort of work for you. You are under fifty and you're a strong, healthyman. You ride every morning in Central Park, you play golf in winter andsummer, and you're one of the men who made Muldoon famous. 

"You are able to work as the rest of us are working. Your hands are ina much better condition than mine. If we were in New York, I would takeoff my hat to you and admit that you are one of the greatest bankers inthe world, and that you know your business. But we're not in New York. We're down here on a lonely island. You know how to build and conductbanks, I know how to build and conduct camps. We have no use forscientific bankers here, but we have considerable use for experiencedcamp builders. I have been put in charge of this work. I'm going to seeit through. Up in the hills I got a full day's work out of my men, --andthere were worse men among them than you will ever be. There weregunmen, knife slingers, cutthroats and bullies, --but they had to work, just the same. Just a minute, if you please. I'm not through. I think Iappreciate your position, Mr. Landover. 

"You regard me as a four-flusher, a tramp, --maybe a thief or worse. Iam but little more than half your age and I am a person of absolutely noimportance. That's neither here nor there. I have been selected to runthis job because Captain Trigger, with Mr. Mott and virtually everyother man on this ship, believes that I know how to handle it. But eventhat's neither here nor there. What I'm coming to is this. As long asI am in charge of this job, every man, woman and child has got to dosomething. Just at present there isn't much that the women and childrencan do, but there is work for every man who can stand on his feet. Youneedn't glare at me. I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Landover. You say youare going to stay on this ship. Well, I've come here to tell you thatyou are not going to do anything of the sort. The women and children areto remain on board until we've got houses built for them on shore, oruntil the time comes when there is work for them to do. If they chooseto come ashore occasionally it will be to watch the men work and tocheer them up with their presence. But no man is to stay on this shipafter we've once got the real job going out there. Now you've heard mystatement, sir. I am willing to listen for a few minutes to your side ofthe question. Don't all speak at once, --and please be careful, there areladies present. "

While Percival did not take his eyes from Landover's face during thisspeech, he was aware that Miss Clinton and her aunt had turned abruptlyaway and were leaning against the rail a few yards distant, their backsto him. Olga Obosky and Careni-Amori were regarding him with shining, approving eyes, while Mrs. Block, --gulping furiously, --clasped herhusband's arm and kept up a constant muttering. Something told him thatRuth Clinton and Mrs. Spofford had turned against him. 

"I have nothing to say to you, " said Landover, curtly. Turning on hisheel, he joined the two ladies at the rail. He spoke a few words to themin a lowered tone, and then the three of them strode off without so muchas a glance at the young man. 

Percival flushed a dull red under his tan. His eyes followed them untilthey disappeared around a corner. Down in his heart he hoped that Ruthwould not deny him a fleeting look of encouragement and approval. 

Landover carried himself like a soldier. He was tall, well set-up, andalmost offensively erect. He was a handsome man of perhaps forty-eight. His cleanshaven face was firm, aggressive, domineering. There was nota trace of grey in his dark hair. He typified strength, mentality, shrewdness and that most essential quality in the standards of wealthand power, --arrogance. In a word, he personified Finance. 

"Now, see here, Percival, " began Nicklestick, in a most cavalier manner, greatly encouraged by the lofty conduct of the Money King, "you know youcan't do this sort of thing. We won't stand for it, not for a minute. Weobject to this high-handed business. You got to realize that--"

"Object and be hanged!" snapped Percival. "The next thing, you'llbe calling yourselves conscientious objectors. Well, it's no use, Nicklestick. There's no such animal on board this Ark. I see a coupleof boats returning from shore. You've got about fifteen minutes to shedthat Stein & Bloch suit and jump into something that will never needpressing again, --your working clothes. I'm doing you a kindness. Thatgang out there won't stand for slackers. If you're wise you'll take myword for it. "

He was turning away when Nicklestick intercepted him. 

"What do you think they would do, Mr. Percival?" he inquired in someagitation. "We are gentlemen. We got a right to decide for ourselves vatwe shall do. We can pay for--"

"You will find a lot of gentlemen out there who have already decided forthemselves, --and very cheerfully, too. You will not be lonely. If youdesire any further information as to the class of labourers you willcome in contact with, Mr. Nicklestick, I would suggest a careful studyof the first cabin list, the second cabin list, and finally the thirdcabin list, if you can find such a thing. You will also run up againstsome excellent material from the United States Navy, to say nothing of afine lot of able seamen. They've adopted a common name. Do you know whatthey call each other?"

"No, " said Nicklestick, wiping his brow. "Vat--vat do they call eachother?"

"Men, " said Percival, and walked away. 

He was followed closely by Careni-Amori and Olga Obosky, and at somedistance by the whispering, gesticulating Jews. The great soprano wasprofoundly agitated. Obosky, a pace or two behind her, was tense andsilent. Her head was slightly bent. There was a strange, dog-likeexpression in her eyes as they regarded the back of Percival's head. 

"But what will you do?" Careni-Amori was crying, as she clutched hisarm. "He is a great man. He is a millionaire. He owns part of thissteamship line, --so he have inform me. You will not throw him into thewater, --yes?"

"As sure as you are a foot high, Madame Careni-Amori, " said he, grimly. 

"Oh, mon Dieu! You hear him, Obosky? He means what he have say. "

"Be careful, my friend, " said Obosky, drawing alongside of Percival. "Doyou not see how the wind blows?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you count the cost of victory? You may lose more than you willgain. "

Percival looked at her intently for a moment; then, in a flash, themeaning of her words was revealed to him. 

"Even so, Madame Obosky, " he returned, his jaw setting, "I am a goodloser. "

"The spoils do not always go to the victor, " she warned him. 

"I still have your luck-piece, " said he, smiling as he slapped histrousers-leg. 

"It has always brought me luck, " she said, looking straight into hiseyes. "It may continue to do so, who knows? Alas for you, my friend, you may yet have to turn to me for consolation. It is the ill-wind thatblows nobody good. Am I not shocking, Mr. Percivail?"

They had lost Madame Careni-Amori, who was behind them, shrieking acommand through a port-hole to her maid. 

He looked at her in amazement. "I don't know what to think of you, Madame Obosky. " Then he grinned. "Good Lord! You--you can't be making mean offer of marriage?"

"Heaven forbid!" she cried. "I have had all I want of marriage, myfriend. You will never catch me doing anything so foolish as that again. No, no! I do not desire to marry you, Mr. Percivail. Nothing so dreadfulas that! Suppose we would be married, --what zen? Poof! Because I am anhonest woman I would have to tell you some time zat I have had ze honourto be once the mistress of a Crown Prince, --and then you would hold upyour holy hands and cry out, 'My God, what kind of a woman is this Ihave marry?' and--Oh, but I would not tell you about zat Crown Princeuntil we have been married a year or two, so do not look so pleased!In a year you would be hating me so much zat you would rejoice to hearabout the Crown Prince, and I would be loathing you so much zat I wouldprobably have to kill you, --because I do not believe in divorce any morethan I believe in marriage. You see? Most women hate their husbands. They never hate their lovers. It is so difficult to get rid of the one, and so easy to keep the other, --zat is the explanation. So! Now youmay know zat love is the humblest thing in the world, and passion thenoblest, for love is for the weak while passion is for the strong. Loveis easily deceived, passion never. Love endures, passion conquers. Loveis blind, passion is sight itself. Love rules the world, but passionrules love. Love consents, passion demands. Love is law, passion islife. I could go on forever, but I see you do not like my discourse. Zatis because you are already in love, my friend. Poof! You will get overthat!" She laughed. 

Percival was white clear through. He was red-blooded, but at the sametime his heart was clean. Once more he found himself contrasting thehonest-eyed, pure-hearted Ruth with this sensual scoffer. There was nodenying the physical appeal of the lithe, sinuous Russian; there was nogainsaying the call of the blood. On the other hand, the American girlstood for everything his own mother exemplified in flesh and spirit. 

As it is with all men, he was absolutely incapable of associatingpassion with the mother who bore him, or with sisters who marry and givethem nieces and nephews to adore. It was impossible, utterly impossiblethat they should have possessed the instincts of this woman besidehim. But even as the thought raced through his mind he experienced thesudden, almost staggering realization that after all the chief, probablythe only difference between his women and Olga Obosky was that they weregood!

"Do you want me to tell you what I think of you?" he inquired, his eyeshardening. 

"Yes, " she said calmly. "But not now. When you have more time, myfriend. I shall be very much interested to hear what you think of me. Inthe meantime, I am troubled for you. You are in love with her, --oh, yes, you are, --and I am very much afraid zat you will lose her if you arenot careful. I am your friend. Be warned in time, Mr. Percivail. She issorry for him. Landover. You have humiliated him before all of us. He isthe friend of her family. Go slow, my friend, or she will turn againstyou and you will lose her. You have still a good chance. She is morenearly in love with you than she suspects. A little good judgment onyour part, my friend, and you will win. She will marry you, and whenshe have done so, zen you may with impunity toss Mr. Landover in thesea, --but not now, my friend, not now. "

"By Jove, you've got me guessing, Madame Obosky, " he exclaimed, franklypuzzled. "I can't make you out at all. "

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"Zat is because I am a thousand years old and very, oh, so very wise, Mr. Percivail, " she returned, with a smile. "Au revoir!"

Percival went straight to Captain Trigger. 

"See here, Captain, " he said at once, "I'm up against it with Landover. He refuses to take orders from me. I don't want to do anything drasticwithout consulting you. If you say I'm to let him off, that's the endof it so far as I'm concerned. Of course, I can't answer for the restof the crowd. But if you say I am to go ahead along the line originallylaid out, I'll do it. "

Captain Trigger's eyes, red from loss of sleep, pinched with anxiety, rested for a few seconds on the three boats coming across the basin. Then he turned to the young man. 

"Mr. Landover is one of the owners of this steamship line, Percival. "

"So I understand, sir. "

"He notified me this morning that he will see that I am dismissed fromthe service if I continue to support this silly, suicidal plan to builda camp on shore. "

"Yes, sir. And you?"

"I promptly tendered my resignation as master of this vessel, " answeredthe Captain. 

"You did?" cried Percival, dismayed. 

"To take effect when I have tied her safely up to her pier in New York, "said the old man, striking the rail with his fist. 

"Great!" cried Percival. 

"He has just come to me with the complaint that you have threatened tothrow him overboard. Is that true, Percival?"

"Yes, sir, --in a way. I mentioned an alternative. "

"Mr. Landover is no better than any of the rest of us. You will proceedto throw him overboard, Percival, if he refuses to do his share of thework. "

Percival gulped, and then saluted. 

"Orders, sir?"

"Orders!"

The young man started away, but the Captain called him back. 

"What are you going to do after you have had him thrown into the water?"

"Why, dammit all, " exclaimed Percival, "what can I do but jump in andsave his life? You don't suppose I'd let him drown, do you? And, Godknows, nobody else would save it. They want to tar and feather him, asit is, or lynch him, or make him walk the plank. "

CHAPTER II. 

The first of the two boats came alongside, and men began to go clumsily, even fearfully down the ladders. Throughout the early stages of activityon shore, the passengers and crew went out in shifts, so to speak. Percival and others experienced in construction work had learned thatefficiency and accomplishment depend entirely upon the concentrationof force, and so, instead of piling hundreds of futile men on shore tocreate confusion, they adopted the plan of sending out daily detachmentsof fifty or sixty, to work in regular rotation until all availableman power had been broken in and classified according to fitness andstrength. For example, certain men developed into capable wood-choppers, while others were useless in that capacity. Each successive draft, therefore, had its choppers, its strippers, its haulers, its "handymen, "--and its water-boys. Moreover, this systematic replacement oftoilers made it possible for those who were not accustomed to hard, manual labour to recover from the unusual tax on strength and endurance. 

It should be explained, however, that this system was not applied toindividuals selected for the purpose of exploration and research. Fourparties, well-armed and equipped, were sent out to explore both sectionsof the island. These expeditions had numerous objects in view: todetermine, if possible, whether the island had ever been visitedor occupied by man; to determine the character of the fruits andvegetables; extent and variety of animal life; the natural foodresources, etc. The groups were made up of men familiar with naturein the rough. Lieutenant Platt headed one group, Professor Flattneranother, a Bolivian ranchman and an English horse buyer the remainingtwo. 

Abel Landover was to have gone out with the first day's shift to workon the road through the wood. He refused point-blank to leave the ship. This state of affairs lasted through the next two days, the bankerstubbornly ignoring the advice and finally the commands of CaptainTrigger. In the meantime he had been joined in his rebellion, --a wordused here for want of a milder one, --by half a dozen gentlemen who dida great deal of talking about how the Turks were maltreating theArmenians, but, for fear of being suspected of pro-Germanism, studiouslyavoided pre-war dissertations on the conduct of the Russians. 

The first shift's turn had come around once more in the natural orderof things, and practically all of the men had been landed. Landoverhad refused to go out with either of the other shifts. He had stoodhis ground obstinately. Percival's ultimatum, sweeping like wildfirethroughout the ship's company, brought nearly every one on board to therails to see whether he would carry out his threat. Would he dare throwthe great capitalist, this mighty Croesus, this autocrat, into the sea?

The first boat carried off Nicklestick, Block, Shine and the otherobjectors. Landover was in his stateroom. 

"Just a minute, " called out Percival to the oarsmen, as they waited forhim to take his place in the last boat. "We're shy a man, I see. " Hiseye ranged the deck. His face was a sickly yellow. It would have beenwhite save for the tan. "Where is Landover?" he demanded of the crowd. 

Some one answered: "He went to his cabin a couple of minutes ago, " andanother volunteered: "It's Number 9 on the promenade deck. "

Half a minute later Percival rapped peremptorily on the door of Number9. 

"We're waiting for you, Mr. Landover, " he called out. 

"Wait and be damned, " came strongly from the stateroom. "The door isunlocked. If you put a foot inside this room, I'll shoot you like adog. "

"You will have the satisfaction of killing a mighty good dog, " saidPercival, and threw the door wide open. He did not enter the room, however. Standing just outside the door, he faced the banker. Landoverstood in the centre of the luxurious cabin, a revolver in his hand. 

"I mean exactly what I say, Percival. I will shoot the instant you put afoot through that door. "

"I don't believe you would, " said Percival, "but, just the same, I'm notgoing to chance it. If I ever conclude to commit suicide, I'll go offsomewhere and blow my brains out with my own gun. At present, I have nothought of committing suicide, so I'll stay right where I am. I didn'tcome here to kill you, Mr. Landover. I have no gun with me. I simplycame to tell you that the last boat is leaving, and we are waiting foryou. "

For many seconds the two men looked straight into each other's eyes. 

"Are you coming?" demanded the young man levelly. 

"Certainly not!"

Percival's shoulders sagged. His face wore an expression of completesurrender. 

"Well, --if you won't, I suppose you won't, " he muttered. 

A triumphant sneer greeted this abject back-down on the part of thewould-be dictator. 

"I thought so, " exclaimed Landover. "You're yellow. You can bully thesepoor, ignorant--"

He never finished the sentence. Percival cleared the eight or nine feetof intervening space with the lunge of a panther. His solid, compactbody struck Landover with the force of a battering ram. Before thelarger and heavier man could fire a shot, his wrist was caught in agrip of steel. As he staggered back under the impact, Percival's rightfore-arm was jammed up under his chin. In the fraction of a second, Landover, unable to withstand this sudden, savage onslaught, toppledover backwards and, with his assailant clinging to him like a wildcat, found himself pinned down to the spacious, inset washstand. 

The revolver was discharged, the bullet burying itself in the floor. Aninstant later the weapon fell from his paralysed fingers. With his freeleft hand he struck wildly, frantically at Percival, but with no effect. The broad back and shoulders of his assailant proved a barrier he couldnot drive past. And that rigid, merciless right arm, as hard as a bar ofsteel, was pressing relentlessly against his throat, crushing, chokingthe life out of him. He was a strong, vigorous man, but he was helplessin the grasp of this tigerish young fighter from the slopes of theAndes. He heard Percival's voice, panting in his ear. 

"I can keep this up longer than you can. I don't want to break yourneck, --do you understand? I don't want to break your neck, Landover, butif you don't give in, I'll--I'll--" The pressure slackened perceptibly. "Say it! Now's your chance. Say you've--got enough!"

Landover managed to gasp out the word. He could still feel his eyesstarting from his head, his tongue seemed to fill his mouth completely. 

Percival released him instantly and fell back a yard or so, ready, however, to spring upon his man again at the first sign of treachery. Nomore than sixty seconds elapsed between the beginning and the end of theencounter. It was all over in the twinkling of an eye, so to speak. Infact, it was over so quickly that the first man to reach the door afterthe report of the revolver rang out, found the two men facing eachother, one coughing and clutching at his throat, the other erect andmenacing. For the first time, Percival took his eyes from the purplishface of the banker. They fell first upon a head and pair of shouldersthat blocked one of the two port-holes. He recognized the countenance ofSoapy Shay, the thief. To his amazement, Soapy grinned and then winkedat him!

"The boat is ready to leave, Landover, " said the victor briskly. "Wehave no more use for this thing at present, " he went on, shoving therevolver under the berth with the toe of his boot. The banker staredpast him at the agitated group in the corridor. The man was tremblinglike a leaf, not so much from fear as from the effects of the tremendousphysical shock. 

Percival was a generous foe. He experienced a sudden pity, --a rush ofconsideration for the other's feelings. He saw the tears of rageand mortification well up in the eyes of the banker, he heard thehalf-suppressed sob that broke from his lips. Whirling, he ordered thecrowd away from the door. "It's all right, " he said. "Please leave us. "He addressed Soapy Shay. "Beat it, you!"

Soapy saluted with mock servility. "Aye, aye, sir. I saw the whole show. It was certainly worth the price of admission. " Having delivered himselfof that graceful acknowledgment, he effaced himself. 

"Just a word or two, Mr. Landover, " said Percival as the crowd shuffledaway from the door. "I am sorry this had to happen. Even now I am notsure that you fully understand the situation. You may still be inclinedto resist. You are not in the habit of submitting to force, reason orjustice. I am only asking you, however, to recognize the last of these. You will be happier in the end. I don't give a hang how much you hateme, nor how far you may go to depose me. I don't want your friendshipany more than I want your enmity. I can get along very nicely withouteither. But that isn't the point. At present I am in charge of a gang ofworkmen. Every man on this ship belongs to that gang, you with the rest. I ask you to look at the matter fairly, honestly, open-mindedly. Youaccuse me of being high-handed. I return the charge. It's you who arehigh-handed. You set yourself above your fellow-unfortunates. You refuseto abide by the will of the majority. I represent the majority. I amnot acting for myself, but for them. God knows, I am not looking fortrouble. This job isn't one that I would have chosen voluntarily. Butnow that it has been thrust upon me, I have no other alternative than tosee it through. You ought to be man enough, you ought to be fair enoughto see it in that light. If conditions were reversed, Mr. Landover, andyou were in my place, I would be the last to oppose you, because Ihave learned in a very tough school that it pays to live up to theregulations. Everywhere else in the world it is a question of capitaland labour. Here it is a question of labour alone. There is no suchthing as capital. Socialism is forced upon us, the purest kind ofsocialism, for even the socialist can't get rich at the expense of hisneighbour. But I'm beginning to lecture again. Let's get down to cases. Are you prepared to go out peaceably, --I'll not say willingly, --and doyour share on the job as long as you are physically able?"

"I submit to brute force. There is no other course left open to me, "said Landover hoarsely. 

"Very well, then. Come along, --we're wasting valuable time here. "

"I will follow you in a few minutes. "

"You will come now, " said Percival levelly. "You and I, Mr. Landover, are jointly concerned in the establishment of a very definite order ofdiscipline. We represent the two extremes. " He stood aside. "Precede me, if you please. "

After a moment's hesitation, the other lifted his chin and walked pastthe young man. The corridors were clear. Percival followed close behind. He kept up a glib, one-sided conversation. 

"You see, there was no other way to handle you. I was obliged to resortto punitive measures. That's always the case when you are dealing withsensible, intelligent, educated men. It is impossible to reason with anintelligent, educated man. He invariably has opinions, ideas, viewpointsof his own. He is mentally equipped to resist any kind of an argument. Take our United States Senators, our Congressmen, even our Presidents. You can't reason with them. No doubt you've tried it a thousand times, you and the other capitalists. We've all tried it. You've got to hit 'emon the head with some sort of a club or big stick if you want to bring'em to time. You have to club them to death at the polls, so to speak. Now, you take these wops. They can't argue. They haven't got that sortof intelligence. They're considerably like the common or garden varietyof dog. No matter how much you beat them and scold them, you can alwaysget along with them if you feed them and let them see that you'renot afraid of them. If they once get an idea that you are afraid ofthem, --well, it's all off. They begin to be sensible right away, andthen they form a labour union. And the more sensible and intelligentthey become, the easier it is for the labour leaders, the walkingdelegates, and blood-sucking agitators to make fools of 'em. It's all amatter of leadership, Mr. Landover, as you will admit, any way you lookat it. Well, here we are. "

Landover paused before starting down the ladder to the boat. He turnedto address Percival in a loud, clear voice. 

"You will not long be in a position to browbeat and bully the restof us, young man. Your reign will be short. I would like myfellow-passengers to know that I have never refused to work with them. I have merely declined to work under an outlaw. Life is as dear to meas it is to any one else on this ship. I am taking this step againstmy will, rather than subject myself to further indignities and thecruelties you would inflict if I held out against you. I am sorry todeprive you of the spectacular hit you might have made by throwing meinto the sea, a treat which you doubtless led all of these people toexpect. "

He climbed down the ladder and dropped into the boat. As he took hisseat, he ran his eye along the line of faces above. Finding the personshe sought, he smiled, shook his head slowly to signify a state ofresignation, and then set his flushed, angry face toward the land. 

Percival, following him, did not look up at the row of faces. 

Careni-Amori sang that evening in the main saloon. Signer Joseppi, tiredand sore after his hard day's work, wept, and after weeping aspublicly as possible created a profound sensation by kissing the greatprima-donna in full view of the applauding spectators. Then, to capthe climax, he proclaimed in a voice charged with emotion that MadameCareni-Amori never had sung better in all her life! This to an artistwho had the rare faculty for knowing when she was off the key, --and whoknew that she was very badly off on this particular occasion. 

Percival was standing near the door as Ruth Clinton and her aunt leftthe saloon on the way to their rooms. He joined them after a moment'shesitation. The two ladies bowed coldly to him. He was the essence ofdecision. As usual, he went straight to the point. 

"I can't take back what I did this morning, and I wouldn't if I could, "he said, falling in beside Mrs. Spofford. "I know you are displeasedwith me. Can't we thresh it out now, Mrs. Spofford?"

The elder woman raised her chin and stared at him coldly. He shot aglance past her at the girl's face. There was no encouragement to befound in the calm, unsmiling eyes. 

"I fail to see precisely why we should thresh anything out with you, Mr. Percival, " replied Mrs. Spofford. 

"It is barely possible that you are not quite clear as to my motives, and therefore unable to gauge my actions. "

"I understand your motives perfectly, --and I approve of them. Youractions are not so acceptable. Good-night, Mr. Percival. "

He smiled whimsically at Ruth. "My left hand is rather in need ofattention, Miss Clinton. I suppose I am so deeply in your bad gracesthat I may not hope for--er--the same old kindness?"

She stopped short. "Is this a request or a command? Mr. Percival, I willbe quite frank with you. Mr. Landover is our friend. I am not, however, defending him in the position he has taken. There is no reason why heshould not do his share with the rest of the men. But was it necessaryto humiliate him, was it necessary to insult him as you did thismorning? He is a distinguished man. He--"

"Are you coming, Ruth?" demanded Mrs. Spofford, sharply. 

"In just a moment, Aunt Julia. "

"You will oblige me by coming with me at once. We have nothing more tosay to this young man. "

"I have asked him a question. I shall wait for his answer. "

"I will answer it, Miss Clinton, by saying it was necessary, " saidhe steadily. "There are other distinguished men here who are furtherdistinguishing themselves by toeing the mark without complaint or cavil. Mr. Landover was appealed to on three distinct occasions by CaptainTrigger and the committee. He ignored all private appeals--and commands. The time had come for a show-down. It was either Landover and his littleband of sycophants, or me and the entire company of men on this ship. It may interest you to know that you and Mrs. Spofford are the only twopeople on board, outside of Mr. Landover's retrievers, who blame me forwhat I did this morning. "

"You can hardly expect me to be interested in what other people think ofmy position, Mr. Percival, " she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. 

"No more, I dare say, than Landover cares what they think of his, " washis retort. 

She lifted her chin. "I am beginning to appreciate Mr. Landover'sattitude toward you, Mr. Percival, " she said icily. 

"And to justify it, I suppose, " he said dejectedly. "I want yourfriendship, Miss Clinton, --yes, I want a great deal more than yourfriendship. You may as well know it. I'm not asking for it, --I'mjust telling you. Please don't go away. I promise not to make myselfridiculous. You have been good to me, you have been wonderful. I--Ican't bear the thought of losing your friendship or your respect. I justhad to bring Landover to time. You may think there was some other way, but I do not. At any rate, it isn't a matter that we can discuss. Someday you may admit that I was right, but I don't believe I will ever seethe day when I will admit that I was wrong. Won't--can't we be friends?"

"I do not believe I can ever feel the same toward you after witnessingwhat I did this morning, " said she, shaking her head. "You deliberately, intentionally degraded Mr. Landover in the presence of others. Was thatthe act of a gentleman? No! It was the act of an overbearing, arrogantbully who had nothing to fear. You took advantage of your authorityand of the fact that he is so rich and powerful that he is practicallywithout a friend or champion. You knew only too well that ninety-nineper cent of the people on board this ship were behind you in your attackon him because he represents capital! You had nothing to fear. No, Mr. Percival, I don't believe we can be friends. I am sorry. "

"You heard what Mr. Landover said to me this morning, Miss Clinton, "said he, paling. "You heard what he called me. Do you believe thesethings of me?"

She was silent for a moment. "No, I do not, " she replied slowly. "Ibelieve that you are all you have represented yourself to be. "

"Thank you, " he said, with gentle dignity. "I am sorry if I havedistressed you this evening. Please don't think too harshly of me whenI say that I just had to find out how we stand, you and I. Now that Iknow, I can only promise not to bother you again, and you may rely on mypromises. I never break them. Good-night, Miss Clinton. "

He bowed to Mrs. Spofford, who ignored him, and then to Ruth, a wistfulsmile struggling to his lips and eyes as he did so. As he turned away, she spoke to him. 

"You mentioned your hand being bad again. If you would like me to dressit for you, --under the circumstances, --I will do so. "

"Ruth!" cried Mrs. Spofford in a shocked voice. 

He put his left hand behind his back. It was the one with which hehad gripped Landover's wrist that morning. The strain had reopened thepartially healed wounds. 

"I injured it this morning in an encounter with your friend, MissClinton. I can hardly ask you to dress it. Thank you, just the same. "

"I know all that happened in Mr. Landover's cabin, but even so, I amready and willing to do anything in my power to ease the pain you aresuffering. " She spoke calmly, dispassionately, almost perfunctorily. 

He shook his head. "I shouldn't have spoken of it, " he said. "It isn'tso bad that I can't fix it up myself. Good-night. "

She joined her aunt and they made their way in silence to the latter'sstateroom. It was not until after the door was safely locked that Mrs. Spofford delivered herself of the thought that had been in her mind thewhole length of the slanting corridor. 

"I hope he will not take advantage of his position to--to bully us--tobully you, dearest, --he might, you know. He has shown himself to beperfectly capable of it. And we are so defenceless. No one but AbelLandover to look to for help if he, --for, of course, no one else woulddare oppose this lawless young, --oh, you need not smile! He has thepower and it is quite plain now that he intends to exercise it. He willbrook no interference--"

"I am not afraid of Mr. Percival, Aunt Julia, " said the girl, sittingdown wearily on the edge of the berth. "He is a gentleman. "

"A--a gentleman?" gasped Mrs. Spofford. "Good gracious!"

"He will not annoy me, " said Ruth, absently study-ing the tips of herslim, shapely shoes. "Possess your soul in peace. I think I know him. "

"Are you defending the braggart?"

"Not at all! I detest him, " cried the girl, springing to her feet, herface crimsoning. "He is perfectly abominable. "

"I--I wouldn't speak quite so loudly, my dear, " cautioned her aunt, glancing at the door uneasily--"It would be like him to listen outsidethe door, --or at any rate, one of his men may have been set to spyupon--"

"Don't be silly, Aunt Julia. And don't be afraid. Mr. Percival isn'tgoing to make us walk the plank for mutiny, or put us in chains, --oroutrage us, --if that is what you are thinking. Now, go to bed, you olddear, and--"

"I insist on your staying in my room, Ruth. He is in love with you. "

"He can be in love with me and still be a gentleman, can't he, AuntJulia? Don't worry! I shall sleep in my own room. I may even go so faras to leave my door unlocked. "

"What! And if he should come to--"

"Ah, I shan't send him word that it's unlocked, dear, " scoffed Ruth, finding a malicious enjoyment in her aunt's dismay. "Good-night. Sleeptight! We must sleep while we have the opportunity, you know. Our lazydays will soon be over. He says we've all got to work like, --I think hesaid dogs. "

"Oh, dear me. I, --I wonder what is to become of us?" moaned the wretchedlady. "After what he tried to do to Abel Landover, there is no tellingto what lengths he may go in--By the way, has Mr. Landover reported toCaptain Trigger that the fellow attempted to shoot him this morning?"

"Of course not, Aunt Julia. "

"Well, I think it is his duty to do so. Captain Trigger should takedrastic means to curb this--"

"You forget that Mr. Landover maintains that Captain Trigger and allthe other officers are like putty in the hands of Mr. Percival. I ambeginning to believe it myself. He--he has got them all hypnotized. "

"He hasn't got me hypnotized!" exclaimed Mrs. Spofford. 

"In any case, he is in the saddle, " sighed Ruth. 

"He deliberately tried to kill Mr. Landover, " said the other. "Isnothing to be done about it? We heard the shot, --every one heard it. Andno one has the courage to say a word about it! What a lot of cowards weare! I don't see why he refuses to let me take the matter up with theCaptain. Captain Trigger ought to know the truth. "

Ruth was silent for a moment or two. "It's hard for me to believe, AuntJulia, that he would attack a defenceless man with a revolver. It--itdoesn't seem like him. "

"But you have Abel Landover's word for it, Ruth. The bullet grazed hishead. The coward would have killed him most certainly if he had notsucceeded in knocking the pistol out of his hand and overpowering him. "

"If I did not believe Mr. Landover to be an absolutely truthful, honourable man, I--" began Ruth, a little furrow between her eyebrows, "well, I might still believe a little in Mr. Percival. "

"And what chance had poor Landover with that highwayman, or whatever heis, pointing a revolver at him through the porthole and threatening toblow his brains out if he did not throw up his hands and let Percivalalone?"

Olga Obosky bandaged Percival's hand. She intercepted him on his way toDr. Cullen's cabin. 

CHAPTER III. 

During the days and weeks that followed, Percival maintained anattitude of rigid but courteous aloofness. Only on occasions when it wasnecessary to consult with Ruth and her aunt on matters pertaining tothe "order of the day" did he relax in the slightest degree from theposition he had taken in regard to them. 

In time, the captious Mrs. Spofford began to resent this studiedindifference. She detested him more than ever for not running true tothe form she had predicted; her apprehensiveness gave way to irritation. She resented his dignified, pleasant "good mornings"; she complainedacidly to Ruth about what she was now pleased to describe as "disgustingsuperciliousness. "

The truth of the matter was, he failed to take any account whatsoeverof Mrs. Spofford in his calculations; he did not even make a pretenceof consulting her in matters relating to the common good of the commonpeople, and as she was in the habit of devoting a considerable portionof her time, energy and executive ability to the interests of the commonor lower class people, the omission was an insult. 

Nor was his cause benefited by the unnecessary and uncalled fordeference he seemed to feel was due her on account of her age. What hadher age to do with it? No one had ever deferred to her age in New York?She was one to be reckoned with, she was accustomed to the deferencethat hasn't anything at all to do with age. And here she was, shuntedto one side, ignored, disregarded, --she who had been the brains andinspiration of a dozen charitable enterprises, to say nothing ofwar-work and very important activities in opposition to Woman Suffrage!

She found little consolation in Landover's contention that the upstartwas bound to hang himself if they gave him rope enough, or in Ruth'spatient reminder that Percival was getting results, --and getting themwithout bullying anybody. 

Ruth accepted the situation with a calmness that exasperated her aunt. She announced her intention to obey any order the "boss" might issue, without recrimination, without complaint. And so, when the day camefor her to go forth with other women to do her share of the cooking, washing, cleaning, and later on the more interesting task of putting thehuts in order for occupancy, she went with a full understanding of whatwas required of her and without a word of protest. The women with whomshe toiled from early morn till sombre dusk draped the land were underthe immediate direction of a stewardess of many years experience, anEnglishwoman whose husband, an engineer, had been killed at the time ofthe explosions. 

Each night she returned to the ship tired and sore but uncomplaining. Her strong young body stood the test with the hardiest; her spirit wasunflinching; her heart in the common cause. For she looked ahead witha clear, far-seeing eye, and saw not one but many winters in this vast, unguarded prison. And she wondered, --wondered day and night, --what wasahead of her. 

She was young. The young do not dream of death. They dream of life, and of its fullness. What did fate have in store for her? Sometimes shecrimsoned, sometimes she paled as she looked ahead. 

Bare-armed, her heavy sport skirt caught up with pins, her bonny brownhair loosely coiled, thick golf stockings and sturdy shoes covering herlegs and feet, she presented a figure that caused more than one heart tothump, more than one head to turn, more than one pair of eyes to followher as she went about her work. Her cheeks and throat and breast andarms were browning under the fire of the noonday sun, her eyes glowedwith the fervour of enthusiasm; her voice was ever cheerful and hersmile, though touched with the blight that lay upon the soul of all thesecastaways, was unfailingly bright. And when she returned "home" at nightfrom her wageless day of toil, she slept as she never had slept before. 

Her aunt worked in what was known as the salvage corps. She was one ofthe clerks employed in checking out the cargo and other materials seizedby the committee of ten, as the leaders in this singular enterprise werecalled. Captain Trigger having protested against the dismantling of thevessel and the confiscation of its cargo, --which was as far as he couldgo, --announced that he would abide by any satisfactory plan to salvagethe property. He required an official, documentary report, however, inwhich every item removed was accounted for, with its condition and valueset down and sworn to by responsible persons. The purser, Mr. Codge, andFirst Officer Mott represented the Captain in this operation, while theconsignees were properly taken care of by Michael O'Malley Malone, the lawyer, James K. Jones, the promoter, and Moses Block, the rubberimporter. It is unnecessary to deal further with this feature ofthe situation. Suffice it to say, the transaction, --if it may be sodenoted, --was managed with the utmost regularity and formality. Elderlymen and women were chosen for the clerical work which this ratherlaborious undertaking entailed. 

On the crest of the loftiest hill there was established a permanentobservation and signal station. Near the top a sort of combinationdug-out and shanty was constructed by order of Captain Trigger, andday and night, week in and week out, watches were kept similar to thosemaintained on board ship. 

While the entire company, high and low, worked with a zeal thateventually resulted in a state of good-natured though intense rivalryin skill and accomplishment, --while they were generally cheerful andcourageous, --there was a profound lack of gaiety. In the eyes of eachand every one of them lay the never-vanishing shadow of anxiety, --aneternal unspoken question. The hardest, fiercest faces wore a wistfulexpression; the broadest smile revealed a touch of sadness. Over all, however, the surpassing spirit of kindness and generosity presided. 

Calamity had softened the hearts in the same crucible that hardened thehands. The arrogance of the strong mellowed into consideration for theweak; wisdom and culture went hand in hand with ignorance and brawn;malice and rancour left the hearts of the lowly and met half-way thedeparting insolence of the lofty; fellowship took root and throve in afield rich with good deeds. The heart of man was master here, the brainits humble servant. 

Landover worked hard, doggedly. To all outward appearances, he hadresigned himself to the inevitable. He affected a spirit of camaraderieand good humour that deceived many. Down in his heart, however, hewas bitterly rebellious. He despised these people as a class. In hisestimation, all creatures who worked for a living were branded with theobnoxious iron of socialism; he even went so far as to believe that theywere, after a fashion, anarchists! His conception of anarchy was ratherfar-reaching; it took in everything that was contrary to his notion ofa satisfactory distribution of wealth. He believed that every man whoworked for a wage was at heart an enemy to law and order. He regardedthe wage-earner as one whose hand is eternally against the employer, absolutely without honour, justice or reason. The workingman was forself, always for self, --and to Landover that was anarchy. 

The thought that people, --men and women, --of the lower classes possessedphysical and mental qualities similar to those possessed by himself, even in a modified form, was not only repugnant to him but incredible. They had none of the finer emotions, --such as love, for instance. Hecould not conceive of a labouring man loving his wife and children;it wasn't natural! He pictured the home-life of the lower classes asnothing short of indecent; there couldn't be anything fine or noble orenduring in the processes of birth, existence and death as related tothem. Nature took its course with them, and society, --as represented bythe class to which he belonged, --provided for the litters they castupon the world. In a word, Abel Landover's father and grandfather andgreat-grandfather had been rich men before him. 

He despised Captain Trigger for the simple reason that that faithful, gallant sailor was an employee of the company in which he was adirector. It meant nothing to him that Captain Trigger came of fine, hardy, valiant stock; it meant less to him that he was a law untohimself aboard the Doraine. For, when all was said and done, CaptainTrigger worked for just so much money per month and doubtless hated themen who paid him his wage. On board the Doraine, --as was the case withall other vessels on which he chose to sail, --the banker sat at theCaptain's table. But he did not consider that to be a distinction or anhonour; it was his due. As a matter of fact, he looked upon himself asthe real head of the Captain's table!

Half a dozen persons in all that company comprised Landover's circle ofdesirables. Of the rest, most of them were impossible, three-fourthsof them were "anarchists, " all of them were beneath notice, --exceptas listeners. As for Percival, if that young man was not literally andactually a bandit, at least he had all the instincts of one. In anycase, he was a "bum. " Whenever Mr. Landover was at a loss for a word toexpress contumely for his fellow-man, --and he was seldom at a loss, --hecalled him a "bum. "

The women on board were divided into three classes in Landover's worldlyopinion: the kind you would marry (rare), the kind you wouldn't marry(plentiful), and the kind you wouldn't have to marry (common). He putOlga Obosky and Careni-Amori in this rather extensive third class, andeven went so far as to set what he considered a fair value upon them ashuman commodities!

He worked with the gang of "log-toters, " a term supplied by Percival. They were the men who carried or dragged the trimmed tree-trunks fromthe forest to the camp site, where they were subsequently hewn intoshape for structural purposes by the more skilful handlers of ax andwedge and saw. 

A certain man named Manuel Crust was the fore-man of this gang. He wasa swarthy, powerful "Portugee" who was on his way to Rio to kill the palwho had run away with his wife. He was going up there to kill SebastianCabral and live happily for ever afterward. His idea of future happinesswas to sit by the fireside in his declining years and pleasantlyruminate over the variety of deaths he had inflicted upon the loathsomeSebastian. In the first place, he was going to strangle him with hishuge, gnarled hands; then he was going to cut off his ears and nose andstuff them into the vast slit he had made in his throat; then he woulddig his heart out with a machete; then, one by one, he would expertlyamputate his legs, arms and tongue; afterwards he would go through thegrisly process of disemboweling him; and, then, in the end, he wouldbuild a nice, roaring fire and destroy what remained of Sebastian. Inasmuch as either of these sanguinary and successive measures mightreasonably be expected to produce the desired result, it will be seenthat Sebastian was doomed to experience at least six horrific deathsbefore the avenger got through with him. At any rate, if one couldbelieve Manuel, --and there seemed to be no end of conviction in theway he expressed himself, --the luckless home-wrecker, if he lived longenough, was absolutely certain to die. 

Landover took a strange fancy to Manuel Crust. He was drawn to him inthe first place by the blasphemous things he said about Percival. In thesecond place, he enjoyed Manuel's vituperative remarks about cutting theliver out of the "boss. " Notwithstanding the fact that Manuel wasmore or less given to cutting the livers out of remote and invisiblepersons, --including King Alfonso, the Kaiser, Queen Victoria (he didn'tknow she was dead), King Manuel, the Czar of Russia, the Presidentsof all the South American republics, the Sultan of Turkey, PresidentRoosevelt, and Sebastian Cabral, --Mr. Landover positively loved to hearhim talk. He made a point of getting him to talk about Percival a greatdeal of the time. He also liked the way in which the prodigious Manueldeferred to him. It inspired the philanthropic motives that led him toshare his very excellent cigars with the doughty foreman. Moreover, hehad something far back in his mind, had Mr. Abel Landover. 

Percival was indefatigable. He set the example for every one else, andnothing daunted him. The sceptics, --and there were many of them at thestart, --no longer shook their heads as they went about what oncehad loomed as a hopeless enterprise, for to their astonishment andgratification the "camp" was actually becoming a substantial reality. 

The small group of men who, for obvious reasons, had courted the favourof Abel Landover at the outset, now went out of their way to "stand in"with the amazingly popular man of the hour. 

He represented power, he stood for achievement, he rode on the crest ofthe wave, --and so they believed in him! Landover may have been a wizardin New York, but the wizard of Trigger Island was quite another personaltogether, --hence the very sensible defection. 

These gentlemen openly and ardently opposed him on one occasion, however. It was when he proposed that the island should be named forthe beloved Captain. They insisted that it be called Percival Island. Failing in this, they advocated with great enthusiasm, but with nosuccess, the application of Percival's name to almost every noticeablepeculiarity that the island possessed. They objected fiercely tothe adoption of such titles as these: Mott Haven (the basin); SplitMountain; Gray Ridge (after the lamented Chief Engineer); Penguin Rocks;The Gate of the Winds; Top o' the Morning Peak; Dismal Forest (west ofthe channel); Peter Pan Wood (east of the channel); Good Luck Channel;Cypress Point; Cape Sunrise (the extreme easterly end of the island);Leap-frog River; Little Sandy and Big Sandy (the beaches); Cracko-dayFarm; New Gibraltar (the western end of the island); St. Anthony Falls. Michael O'Malley Malone christened the turbulent little waterfall up inthe hills. He liked the sound of the name, he claimed, and besides itwas about time the stigma of shame that had so long rested upon the poorold saint was rewarded by complete though belated vindication. 

Strange to say, no name was ever proposed for the "camp. " Back in themind of each and every member of the lost company lay the unvoicedbelief, --amounting to superstition, --that it would be tempting fate tospeak of this long row of cabins as anything more enduring than "thecamp. "

Notwithstanding his dominant personality and the remarkable capacityhe had for real leadership, Percival was a simple, sensitive soul. Hewrithed under the lash of conspicuous adulation, and there was a gooddeal of it going on. 

The satiric Randolph Fitts, notwithstanding his unquestioned admirationfor the younger man, took an active delight in denouncing what he wasprone to allude to as Percival's political aspirations. It is only fairto state that Fitts confined his observations to a very small coterie offriends, chief among whom was the subject himself. 

"You are the smartest politician I've ever encountered, and that'ssaying a good deal, " he remarked one evening as he sat smoking with ahalf dozen companions in front of one of the completed huts. They wereranged in a row, like so many birds, their tired backs against the"facade" of the cabin, their legs stretched out in front of them. "You're too deep for me. I don't see just what your game is, A. A. Ifthere was a chance to graft, I'd say that was it, but you could grafthere for centuries and have nothing to show for it but fresh air. Even if you were to run for the office of king, or sultan or shah, youwouldn't get anything but votes, --and you'd get about all of 'em, I'llsay that for you. To a man, the women would vote for you, --especially ifyou were to run for sultan. What is your game?"

Percival smoked in silence, his gaze fixed on the moonlit line of treesacross the field. 

"And speaking of women, that reminds me, " went on Fitts. "When does mylord and master intend to transplant our crop of ladies?"

"What's that, Fitts?" said Percival, called out of his dream. 

"Ladies, --what about 'em? When do they come ashore to occupy themansions we have prepared for them?"

"Captain Trigger suggests next week. "

"What's he got to do with it? Ain't you king?"

"He's got a lot to do with it, you blithering boob. "

"Besides, " drawled Peter Snipe, the novelist, picking doggedly at thecalloused ridges on one of his palms, "some of the women object tomoving in the dark of the moon. They say it's sure to bring bad luck. "

"There's quite a mixup about it, " observed Flattner. "Part of 'em claimit's good luck. Madame Obosky says she never had any good luck moving bythe light of the moon, and Careni-Amori says she doesn't blame her forfeeling that way. Sort of cattish way of implying that the fair Olgacould get along without any moon at all. Professional jealousy, Isuppose. "

"I was speaking to Miss Clinton about it today, " remarked MichaelMalone. 

"What does she think about it?" from Percival. 

"I don't know. She asked me what I thought about it. "

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her I wasn't a woman, and that let me out. Being a man, I'm notentitled to a vote or an opinion, and I'd be very much obliged to herif she'd not try to drag me into it, --and to answer my question if shecould. Whereupon she said she was in favour of moving by the light ofthe sun, and payin' no attention at all to the moon. Which I thought wasa very intelligent arrangement. You see, if they move in the daytime thedamned old moon won't know anything about it till it's too late and--"

"You're the first Irisher I've ever seen who wasn't superstitious, Mike, " broke in Fitts, with enthusiasm. "It takes a great load offmy mind. Now I can ask you why the devil you've never returned thatpocket-knife of mine. I thought you had some sort of superstitionabout it. A good many people, --really bright and otherwise intelligentpeople, --firmly believe it's bad luck to return anything that's beenborrowed. I suppose I've owned fifty umbrellas in my time. The only manwho ever returned one, --but you know what happened without my tellingyou. He got caught in a sudden shower on his way home from my apartmentafter making a special trip to return it, and died some three yearslater of pneumonia. Sick two days, I heard. So, as long as you're not abit superstitious about it, I'd thank you--"

"I'd have you know that I never keep anything I borrow, --that is, nevermore than a day. It's against my principles. Don't ask me for yourdommed old knife. I lent it weeks ago to Soapy Shay. "

"You did?" cried Fitts, incredulity and relief in his voice. "Muchobliged. I haven't been able to look Soapy in the face for a month. Didhe recognize it?"

"I think he did. He kissed it. "

"Landover tried to borrow my lead pencil yesterday, " remarked Flattner. "Finally offered to put up his letter of credit as security. I gave himthe laugh. That lead pencil is worth more than all the letters of creditlumped together. He wanted to write a note. So I agreed to let himuse it if he wouldn't take it out of my sight and on condition that hedidn't write more than five or six line's. But when he made as if he wasgoing to sharpen it, I threatened him with an ax. Can you beat that forwastefulness? These low-down rich don't know the meaning of frugality. Why, if I hadn't stopped him he might have whittled off five thousanddollars' worth of lead, just like that. I also had to caution him aboutbearing down too hard while he was writing. "

"What was he wanting to write a note for?" demanded Malone. "Has he losthis voice?"

"It was a note of apology. He says he never fails to write a note ofapology when he's done something he's ashamed of, or words to thateffect. Lifelong practice, he says. "

"Who was he apologizin' to?"

"That little nurse, Miss Lake, --the one with the coral earrings. Youknow, Mike. I saw you carrying a bucket of water for her yesterday. "

"Her name isn't Lake, " said Malone. "It's Hardwickley. And if you hadyour eyes open, you'd have seen me carrying one for her every day, soyou would, my lad. "

"The damned villain!" exploded Flattner. "He told me her name wasLake, --word with only four letters, --and she turns out to have--let'ssee, --eleven! I call that pretty shifty work, I do. You can't trustthese wizards of Wall Street. They'll do you every crack, if you don'tkeep your eye peeled. Hornswoggled me out of seven letters. "

"You've got to watch 'em, " mused Fitts. "What was he apologizing to herfor?"

"Something to do with his washing. I don't just remember what it was, but I think she didn't iron and fold his handkerchiefs properly, or maybe it was his collars. In any case, he panned her for it, andafterwards repented. Told me in so many words that he felt like ablooming cad about it, and couldn't rest till he had apologized. "

Fitts took several puffs at his pipe and then remarked: "That man hasthe biggest wash of anybody in this camp. I don't see any real reasonwhy he should change collars three times a day while he's hauling logsdown from the hills. As a matter of fact, what's the sense of wearinga collar at all? Most of us don't even wear shirts. See here, yourmajesty, --begging your pardon for disturbing your thoughts with myfoot, --why don't you issue a manifesto or edict or something prohibitingthe use of collars except on holidays, or at weddings, funerals and soforth?"

Percival yawned. "If Landover didn't have a collar on he'd think he wasstark naked. Gosh, I'd like to go to bed. "

"Why don't you? We'll call you as soon as we get any news, " saidFlattner. 

"No, I'll stick it out a while longer. I say, Flat, it begins to lookas if there's real wheat coming up over there after all. Old Pedro wastelling me today that it looks like a cinch unless we got it sowed toolate and cold weather comes along too soon. I never dreamed we'd getresults. Putting out spring wheat in virgin soil like this is a newone on me. If it does thrive and deliver, by gosh, a whole lot ofagricultural dope will be knocked to pieces. I thought spring wheathad to be sown in land that was ploughed the fall before. What's theexplanation?"

"You can't explain nature, A. A. , " said Percy Knapendyke. "Nature doesso darned many unnatural things that you can't pin your faith to it atall. Of course, it was a pure experiment we made. We happened to havea lot of hard spring wheat, and this alluvial soil, deep and rich, wasworth tackling. Old Pedro was as much surprised as I was when it beganto come up. Using that fertilizer was an experiment, too. He swore itwouldn't help a bit. Now he just scratches his head and says God did it. We've got fifty acres out there as green as paint and you can almostsee it grow. If nothing happens we ought to harvest it by the middle ofFebruary, and if God keeps on doing things for us, we may get as much astwenty-five bushels to the acre. It's different with the oats. You canplant oats on unploughed land, just as we did, and you can't stop itgrowing. The oats field up there along the base of the hills is a peach. Takes about ninety days for oats to ripen. That means we'll harvest itin about two months, and we'll beat the cold weather to it. Forty orfifty to the acre, if we have any luck at all. Potatoes doing welland--Say, did I tell you what I've found out about that stuff growingover there in the lowlands beyond the river? Well, it's flax. It'sthe same sort of thing that grows in New Zealand. Those plants I waspointing out to you last week, --the ones with the long brownish leaves, like swords. There's no mistake about it. I took those two Australiansailors over to look at 'em a day or two ago and they swear it's thesame plant, growing wild. Same little capsule shaped fruit, with thelittle black seeds, and everything. I've been reading up on it in theencyclopedia. You cut those leaves off when they get to be full size, macerate 'em in water for a few days, sun dry 'em, and then weave 'emsome way or another. We'll have to work that out. Strongest sort offibre in the leaves. Makes a very stout cloth, rope, twine, --allthat sort of thing. Opens up a new and important industry, boys, --particularly obnoxious to married men. We'll be havingdress-making establishments in full blast before you know it, and modelgowns till you can't rest. I almost hate to spread the news among thewomen. We won't have a cook, or a laundress, or a school-teacher on theIsland if this dressmaking craze gets started. Every hut along this rowwill have a sign beside the door: 'Dressmaking Done Here. ' On the otherhand, I doubt very much if we'll be able to get a single tailor-shopgoing, --and God knows I'll soon need a new pair of pants, especially ifwe're going to have regular church services every Sunday, as Percivalsays. "

"Father Francisco and Parson Mackenzie have finally got together on it, "said Malone gloomily. "For the first time in the history of civilizationwe're going to have a combination Catholic and Protestant Church. It'sall arranged. Father Francisco is going to conduct mass in the morningand Parson Mackenzie is going to talk about hell-fire in the evening. I was wondering what the Jews are going to do for a synagogue and arabbi. "

"I can't answer that question, " said Peter Snipe; "but Morris Shinetackled me the other day to write a play for him, something with musicand dancing in it. He's got a great idea, he says. A stock company touse the church building once a month. Expects to submit his scheme toFitts as soon as he gets it worked out, with the idea of having ourprize little architect provide for a stage with ecclesiastical props inthe shape of pulpits and chancels and so forth, which can be removed onshort notice. Suggests, as a matter of thrift, that footlights be put ininstead of altar candles. Free show, free acting, no advertising bills, no royalties to authors, free programs, --everything free, includingsupper. "

"Grand little idea, Pete, " said Percival. "Are you going to write theplay?"

"Sure. My faithful old typewriter is aching to be thumped oncemore, --and I've got half-a-dozen extra ribbons, thank God. Good fortwo long novels and an epitaph. Just as soon as we can get the ship'sprinting press and dining-room type ashore, I'll be ready to issue TheTrigger Island Transcript, w. T. F. --if you know what that means. I seeyou don't. Weekly till forbidden. "

"I've always wondered what those confounded letters meant down in thecorner of the half-inch advertisements, " said Flattner. "It will be arotten-looking newspaper if it's anything like the sheet the Doraineput out on the trip down. No two letters matched, and some of 'em werealways upside down. Why were they upside down, Pete? You're an oldnewspaper man. Tell us. "

"Because it's impossible to set 'em sideways. If it was possible, theblamed printers could do it, you bet. When I was writing leaders on theSaxville Citizen years ago there was a ruffian up in the composing-roomwho used to set whole paragraphs of my best editorials in em quads, andwhen I kicked, --Hello, isn't that a lantern, A. A. ?"

They all scrambled to their feet and peered intently in the direction ofthe wooded strip that lined the channel. This whilom conversation cameto an abrupt end. Ghostly forms suddenly took shape in front of otherhuts, figures of men that were until then as logs in the shadows. Far off in the road through the wood, a light bobbed, flashed anddisappeared intermittently, and finally emerged into the open and camesteadily forward. Detached knots of men down the line of huts, twos andthrees and fours, swiftly welded themselves into groups, and, hurryingforward, swelled the crowd that congregated at the end of the "street. "Two hundred of them, tired but eager, awaited the arrival of the manwith the lantern. 

These were the men who slept on shore, the unmarried men, those whohad no "feminine hearth, " as Snipe put it dolefully one dark and windynight. Since supper-time these men had been waiting and watching. Butfew of them had gone to bed. Gentleman and roustabout, one and all, werelinked together by a common anxiety. News of the greatest import wasexpected during the night. 

A child was coming to the pathetic little widow of Cruise, theradio-man. 

Two messengers had gone down to the landing to wait for the report to beshouted from the afterdeck of the Doraine, --Soapy Shay and Buck Chizler, the jockey. Now they were returning, --and it was nearing midnight. 

They drew near, the lantern buffeting the legs of the one-time diamondthief as he swung along in the rear of the more active jockey. 

"It's a girl, " called out Buck to the silent mob. Not a sound, not aword from the eager crowd. "Mother and kid both doing well, " went on thejockey, a thrilling note of triumph in his voice. 

And then a roar of voices went up to the moonlit sky. The shacklesof doubt and anxiety fell away, and every heart swelled with joy andrelief. Men began to dance and laugh. Out in front of the crowd leapedPercival. 

"Come on now, fellows! Everybody up! Three cheers for the Trigger Islandbaby! One--two--three!"

And while the last wild cheer was echoing back from, the mountainside:"Now, three good ones for the baby's mother, God bless her!"

Thrice again the exultant yells echoed across the plain, and then outleaped another excited figure. It was Nicklestick the Jew. 

"Come on! Come on! Ve got to light the bonfires! Come on! I got thematches! Vait! Vait! Let's vait while we take off our hats a minute, boys, --take them off to our baby's father, Jimmy Cruise. No cheers!"

A hush fell over the crowd. Every hat came off, and every head was bent. To many of them James Cruise was no more than a name salvaged from theshocking experiences of those first dreadful days. Few of them hadcome in actual contact with him. The time had been too short. But BettyCruise, his widow, was known to all of them, high and low. They hadwatched over her, and protected her, and slaved for her, forbesides pity there was in every man's soul the fiercest desire thatnothing, --absolutely nothing, --should be left undone to insure the happydelivery of the babe they were counting so keenly upon!

She was a frail, delicate English girl whom Cruise had married in BuenosAires the year before. He was taking her up to his mother's home inConnecticut. His death, --alas, his annihilation!--almost killed her. There were those who said she would die of grief. But, broken and frailas she was, she made the fight. And now came the news that she had"pulled through. "

There were mothers on board with tiny babies, --three or four of them, infact, --peevish, squalling infants that innocently undertook to inspireloathing in the souls of these self-same men. They had no claim upon theimagination or the sympathy of the eager crowd, --no such hold as thisnewcomer, the child born in their pockets, so to speak, --an expressionfirst employed by an ardent champion of the impending infantin defending his righteous solicitude when it was attacked by asophisticated and at the same time exasperated nurse. 

Two bonfires were started in the open space known as "The Green. " Thehuge piles of twigs and branches had been thrown up earlier in theevening. They were in plain view of the "lookout" at the top of SplitMountain. It had been agreed that if it was a boy one fire was to be thesignal; if a girl, two. The "watch" was to share in the glad tidings!

The cheering awoke Abel Landover from a sound sleep. He turned in hisbunk and growled:

"The damned idiots!"

Mr. Landover did not like children. He declined to sit up half thenight to find out "how things were going. " So he went to bed, knowingperfectly well that his three bunkies would come piling in at someoutlandish hour and jabber about the "kid, " and he wouldn't be able toget back to sleep again for hours. 

He was what is commonly known as a "grass widower. " His wife rather toopromptly married inside of a month after leaving Reno, and, much toher own gratification and joy, proceeded to have three very desirablechildren within a period of five years, causing him a great deal of painand annoyance for the reason that their father had once been regarded ashis best friend, --and now he couldn't abide the sight of him. He hatedchildren. Now you know the kind of a man he was. 

Five tired and thoughtful men were going to bed a little later on in oneof the huts. 

"What shall we call her?" came from Randolph Fitts, as he threw one ofhis clay-covered shoes into the corner. 

"There's only one name for her, " said Percival firmly, from the edge ofhis bunk. "We'll call her Doraine. "

"Good shot!" cried Peter Snipe. "I had two names in mind, but Doraine'sgot 'em both beat. It may not be as pretty as Angelica, but it's moreappropriate. Mortimer was the other name I had in mind. "

"Yep, " was the smothered decision of Michael Malone. His shirt came off, and then he spoke more distinctly. "We can't do better than to name herafter her birthplace. That's her name. Doraine Cruise. It sounds Irish. Got music in it. All Irish names have, --leaving out Michael and Patrickand Cornelius and others applied solely to the creatures who don'ttake after their blessed mothers and who grow up to be policemen andhod-carriers, with once in awhile a lawyer or labour-leader to glorifythe saints they were named for, and--Yes, begorry, Doraine's her name. "

And so it was that, with an arbitrary quaintness, the babe was namedwithout so much as a thought of consulting the mother. They assumed aproprietary interest in her, a sort of corporate ownership that had asits basis a genuine affection for and pride in Cruise's widow. It didnot occur to one of them that she ought to have been considered in thematter of naming her own child; they went to sleep perfectly satisfiedthat when the question was put to a general vote on the morrow therewouldn't be a single dissenting voice against the name they hadselected. 

And Mrs. Cruise herself would be very grateful to them for the promptassistance they had given her at a time when she was in no condition tobe bothered with minor details!

CHAPTER IV. 

The death of Betty Cruise occurred the second day after her baby wasborn. In a way, this lamentable occurrence solved a knotty problem andpacified two warring sexes, so to speak. For, be it known, the women ofthe Doraine took a most determined stand against the manner in whichthe men, viva voce, had arrogated unto themselves the right to name thebaby. Not that any one of the women objected to the name they had givenher; they were, in fact, pleased with it. But, they protested, this wasa matter over which but one person had jurisdiction, and that personwas Betty Cruise. If it was not a mother's privilege to name herown child, --especially in a case where the infant's father was in noposition to decide the question for her, whether she consented or no, then all they could say was that things had come to a pretty pass. 

At any rate, they were going to see to it that the baby was not named bya mob!

Ruth Clinton went straight to Percival. 

"I hear you have named the baby, Mr. Percival, " she said, prefacing herremark by a curt "good morning. "

It was the first time she had spoken to him in many days. Their ways notonly lay apart but she had made a point of avoiding him. She stopped himthis morning as he was passing the hut in which she and her aunt were tolive with two of the American nurses. 

The three young women had spent several days in the making and puttingup of some very unusual and attractive window curtains and portieres;painting the stones that framed the fireplace, the crude window-casingsand door jamb; and in draping certain corner recesses which were toachieve dignity as clothes closets. They were scrubbing the floor whenPercival passed on his way to the "office. "

His "office, " by the way, was a rude "lean-to" at the extreme outer endof the street. It was characteristic of him to establish headquartersat a point farthest removed from the approach to the camp from the ship. Fitts was perhaps the only person who sensed the real motive back ofthis selection. Every one else attributed it to an amiable conclusion onPercival's part to sacrifice himself for others by walking almost twiceas far as any of them. As a matter of fact, he had nothing of the sortin mind. He deliberately arranged it so that all operations should becarried on between headquarters and "home. " It was his plan to driveinward instead of outward, to push always in one direction. In otherwords, thought Fitts quite correctly, he "never had to look behind himfor trouble. "

To save his life, Percival could not subdue the eager, devouring gleamthat flashed into his eyes as he looked into hers. He could have cursedhimself. A swift warm flush raced from her throat to her cheeks. Her direct, steady gaze faltered under fire, and a confused, trappedexpression flickered perceptibly for a moment or two. He mistook it fordismay, or, on second thought, even worse, --displeasure. 

"I--I can't help it, " he stammered, surprised into voicing the thoughtthat was uppermost. "You know how I feel. I--I--"

But she had recovered her self-possession. "Do you really think you havethe right to name Mrs. Cruise's baby?" she inquired coolly. 

He managed a wry, deprecatory smile. "Everybody seems to like the name, Miss Clinton. The more I think of it myself, the better it sounds. Itried it out last night in all sorts of combinations. It fits nicelyinto almost any family tree--even Nicklestick's. Just say it toyourself. Doraine Nicklestick. Try any name you like. Doraine Smith, Doraine Humperdinck, Doraine Landover--even Doraine Shay--and, I triedit out with Clinton. Doraine Clinton. Don't you like it? I eventried Percival. It isn't quite so satisfying tacked onto a name likemine, --and it's a poor beginning for Fitts, --but with good, sensiblesurnames, it's fine. "

"It isn't a question of how it sounds, Mr. Percival. "

"Don't you like Doraine Clinton?"

"I like almost anything better than Ruth. I suppose most people loathethe names that other people have given them. "

"No one knows that better than I. I sometimes wonder what they mighthave called me if I were a girl. Nothing as nice as Doraine, or Ruth, I'll bet my soul on that. Something like Guinevere Aphrodite, orDesdemona Venus, or--"

"We are getting away from the subject, " she interrupted crisply. "Has itoccurred to you that poor little Mrs. Cruise might like to name her ownbaby? Why should you men take it upon yourselves to choose a name forher child? Don't you think you were a trifle high-handed in the matter?"

"Of course, if Mrs. Cruise doesn't like Doraine, we will--"

"You will suggest another, I suppose, " she broke in scornfully. "Well, I may as well inform you that you are about to strike a snag, " she wenton, a trifle inelegantly in her desire to be emphatic. "We intend to seeto it that the mother of that baby gives it a name of her own choosing. "

"May I inquire just who you mean by we?" he asked. 

"The women, --three hundred of us, Mr. Percival, that's who. I for onehappen to know that Betty Cruise chose a name long ago. Her heart is seton naming the baby after her mother, --Judith, I think it is. That's thename she wants, but do you imagine she will have the hardihood or thecourage, poor little scrap, to oppose you, Mr. Percival? I mean you, personally. She thinks your word is law. She would no more think ofdefying you than she would think of--"

"Pardon me, Miss Clinton, " he interrupted gently, "but don't you thinkthat's a trifle far-fetched? I am not a dictator, you know. I fancy Mrs. Cruise knows that, even if you do not. "

"I have heard all about your meeting last night, " she went onruthlessly, her eyes flashing. "How you suggested the name, how yousettled the question to suit yourself, and how you called the mentogether this morning and told them that the child was to be calledDoraine before you asked them to vote on it. Vote on it! What atravesty! And no one had the nerve to stand up and say a word for thatpoor little woman. Oh, you've got them well-tamed, Mr. Percival. "

By this time the two nurses had appeared in the doorway, and severalother women at work down the line, scenting the fray, were approaching. 

"I guess you'd better call off the vote, Mr. Percival, " said one of thenurses, eyeing him unflinchingly. 

"I can't call it off. The men adopted the name unanimously. I have noright to set aside their decision, no matter how hastily it was made, "said he, beginning to bridle now that he tasted concerted opposition. 

"I warn you that I intend to call the women, --and what few men there arewith minds of their own, --together this evening to see that Betty Cruisegets fair play, " said Ruth. "When she hears that we are behind her, she'll have the backbone to tell you men to mind your own businessand--"

"Have I a mind of my own or not, Miss Clinton?" he interrupted. 

"You certainly have, " she declared with conviction. 

"Then you may expect me to be one of the men to attend your meeting. Good morning. " He lifted his hat, smiled and walked briskly away. 

"He'll crab the whole thing, " observed one of the women, and despiteher vocal rancour there was an admiring expression in her eyes as theyfollowed him down the road. 

"If he wants to call that baby Andrew Jackson or George Washington, he'll have his way, " said another. "Sex won't make any difference tohim. "

"You just wait and see, " said Ruth, quivering with indignation. 

"Mercy, how you must hate him, Miss Clinton, " cried one of herhouse-mates. 

"I only wish I were a man, " cried the other, clenching her fists. 

"It would simplify matters tremendously, " came in dry, masculine tonesfrom the outskirts of the group. They turned and discovered RandolphFitts. He was smiling sympathetically. 

"I don't quite see what you mean, Mr. Fitts, " said Ruth, after a moment. 

"Because if you were a man, Miss Clinton, you wouldn't even think ofhating him. You'd love him. "

Miss Clinton stared at him for a second or two and then, whirling, entered the hut. Her cheeks were burning. Who shall say whether thetears that sprang to her eyes as she fell to work scrubbing in thecorner were of anger or self-pity?

Briefly, the situation became quite strained as the day wore on. Womengathered in little knots to discuss the unprecedented "nerve" of themen. By nightfall they were pretty thoroughly worked up over a matterthat had mildly amused them at the outset of the day. A comparativelysmall proportion had cared one way or the other in the beginning. Mostof them did not care at all. Given time, however, to digest the thought, aided by such seasoning as could be supplied by a half dozen determinedand more or less eloquent voices, they came in the course of a few hoursto the conclusion that they never had heard of anything so outrageous, and, to a woman, were ready to fight for little Mrs. Cruise's rights!

Several of the stewardesses and two or three women from the second cabinwere avowed and bitter suffragettes. Indeed, two of the stewardesses, being English, were of the hatchet-wielding, brick-throwing element thatmade things so warm for the pained but bull-headed male population ofLondon shortly before the Great War began. These ladies harangued theircompanions with great effect. 

To have heard or witnessed the little gatherings at noon and at theclose of work for the day, one might have been led to believe that agrave, portentous ques-tion of state was involved. Trifling and simpleas all this may seem to the reader of this narrative, it serves adefinite purpose. It reveals to a no uncertain degree the eagerness withwhich these castaways reached out hungrily for the slightest morselthat would satisfy the craving of active minds dulled by the constant, never-absent thought of self; minds charged with thoughts that centredon something thousands of miles away; minds that seldom if ever workedin harmony with hands that toiled. 

The men took up the gauntlet. They considered themselves challenged. Notwithstanding the secret conviction that the women were right, theystood united in defence of their action. Nothing that Percival couldsay or do moved them. He tramped from one group of toilers to another, always meeting with the same grins and laughter when he suggested thatthey wait until Mrs. Cruise was able to approve or disapprove of thename they had chosen. 

"Good gosh!" cried one of the sailors. "Are you goin' to give in to thewomen, boss?"

"Well, I've been thinking it over, boys. I guess we were a little tooofficious. We meant well, God knows, but after all, Betty Cruise oughtto be consulted, --now, oughtn't she?"

"Sure, " cried any number of them cheerfully. "It's her kid. "

"Well, there you are, " he rejoined persuasively. 

"But how do we know she won't be tickled to death with our name? She'dought to be. It's purtier than any name I can think of, " argued JackWales, a sailor. "When she's well enough, we'll tell her the kid's nameis Doraine, and--"

"She won't hold back a second, boss, when she finds out that you pickedit for her, " broke in another. "Only a couple o' days ago she was sayin'to one of the other women in my hearin' that if it was a boy she wasgoin' to call him Percival, --and she didn't know what on earth she'd doif it was a girl. Said she'd probably have to call it after her motherand she didn't like her mother's name a little bit. "

"I know, but after all, we did butt in a trifle too soon with our--"

"For God's sake, don't let any of these here women hear you talk likethat, boss, " groaned Jack Wales. "They'll think we're beginning tohedge. We got to stand together in this thing. If we don't, they'll rulethis camp sure as you're a foot high. I don't give a dern what the kid'sname is, far as I'm concerned, but on principle, boss, it's just got tobe Doraine. Doraine she is an' Doraine she stays. "

Every one of them was good-humoured about it. They were taking it as arare and unexpected bit of politics. The thrill of opposition investedthem. They scoffed at surrender. 

Buck Chizler, however, was seriously affected. He was courting one ofthe nurses and he, for one, saw peril in preliminary defeat. 

"There won't be any living with 'em, " he proclaimed, scowling darkly. "Iknow what it is to have 'em get the bit in their teeth. You just can'tmanage 'em, that's all. Upset all the dope. Likely to throw you clearover the fence. Experience ain't a particle of use. The gad don't do abit of good. They just shut their jaws, lay back their ears, and--"

"We're not talking about race-horses, Buck, " interrupted Percival, smiling. 

"Neither am I, " said Buck forcibly. 

Ruth went to Olga Obosky. She did so only after a rather prolongedinward struggle. The Russian's interest in Percival was not moderatedby the reserve supposed to be inherent in women. She was an openidolatress. One had only to watch the way she followed him with herdark, heavy-lidded eyes to know what was in her mind. Ruth tried not todespise her. She tried not to care, when she saw Percival laughing andtalking with this beguiling sensualist, --and it was not an infrequentoccurrence. 

The dancer was seated on the floor of her hut, tailor-fashion, acigarette between her lips, her bare arms resting limply on her knees, her body bent forward in an attitude of extreme fatigue. The three"coryphees" were busy at work about the place with Olga's maid. Ruthstopped in the doorway. Olga lazily removed the cigarette from her lipsand smiled. 

"I once thought I was very strong and unbreakable, " she said, "but nowI know I am not. See, I am all in, as we would say in America. Sufferingsnakes, --how tired I am! That also comes from America. Won't you sitdown, Miss Clinton? We have three or four deck chairs, you see, and somecushions. "

"Why do you sit there on the floor, all doubled up and--heavens, it mustbe uncomfortable, --if you are so tired? How do you manage your legs?"

"My legs? Oh, my legs are never tired. It is my poor back. " Whereuponshe slowly, gracefully straightened out one of her legs, and withoutchanging the position of her body, raised it, with toes and instep ona perfect line, until the heel was some three feet from the floor. Thenshe swung it slowly backward, twisting her body sinuously to one side. A moment later the foot was stretched out behind her and she liftedherself steadily, without apparent exertion, upon the other knee, --andthen stood erect. Ruth watched this remarkable feat in wonder andadmiration. 

"How--how on earth do you do it?" she cried. "Why, --you must be asstrong as--as--a--" She was about to say horse, and floundered. 

"But I trust not as clumsy as one, " said Madame Obosky, stretching herbody in luxurious abandon. "I sit on the floor like zat, my friend, because my back is tired, not my legs. If I lie back in ze deck chairwhen I am tired, I would relax, --and would make so much more regret formyself when the time came to get up again. Besides, it is a good wayto rest, zis way. Have you never tried it? Do, sometime. The whole bodyrests, it sags; the muscles have nothing to do, so they become soft andgrateful. The backbone, the shoulders, the neck, --they all droop andoh, zey--they are so happy to be like zat. It is the same as when I amasleep and they are not running errands all the time for my brain. TheArab sits like zat when he rests, --and the Hindoo, --and they are strong, oh, so very strong. Try it, sometime, Miss Clinton, when you are verytired. It is the best way to let go, all over. "

Ruth laughed. "I couldn't do it to save my soul. "

"Oh, I do not mean for you to get up as I did, or use your leg as I did. You could not do zat. You are too old. That is one of the fruits, oneof the benefits of the cruelest kind of child labour. I was a great manyyears in making myself able to do zat. See! Put your hand on my leg. Nowmy back, --my arm. What you think, eh?"

Ruth, in some embarrassment, had shyly obeyed her. The dancer's thighwas like a column of warm iron; her waist, free as ever from stays, wasfirm and somehow suggestive of actual resilience; her shoulders andback possessed the hard, rippling muscles of a well-developed boy; hershapely forearm was as hard as steel. Ruth marvelled. 

"How strong you are!" she cried; "and yet you are slight. You are not asbig as I am, but oh, how much stronger you are!"

"I have a perfect figure, " said Olga calmly. "It is worth preserving. Noone admires my body so much as I do myself. I must not get fat. When youare a fat old woman, I shall still be as I am now. You will diet, andpray, and rave, --because you are growing old, --and I shall do none ofthese things. I eat like a pig, I never pray, and I do not believe ingrowing old. But you do not come to see me about myself, Miss Clinton. You find me sitting idly with my legs crossed, and you are surprise. I work as I dance, --very, oh, so very hard while I am at ze task, --butwith frequent periods of rest. So I do not wear out myself too soon. It is the only way. Work for an hour, rest for ten minutes, --relax andforget, --and you will see how well it goes. Why do you come? Is it totalk about the baby?"

"Yes, it is, Madame Obosky. I have come to ask you to use your influencewith Mr. Percival. You--"

"But I have no influence with Mr. Percivail, " interrupted the other, staring. 

Ruth flushed. "You are his friend. You--"

"Ah, yes, --but nothing more than zat. You too are his friend, MissClinton. "

"I see little or nothing of Mr. Percival, " said Ruth stiffly. "We arenot friends, --not really friends. "

"But you admire him, eh? Quite as much as I admire him, --and as everyone else does. "

"There are certain things about him that I admire, of course. "

"You admire him for the same reason that I admire him. Because he hasa most charming and agreeable way of telling me to go to the devil. Isthat not so?"

"Madame Obosky!"

"It comes to the same thing. If you would like me to put it in anotherform, he has a very courteous way of resisting. He is most aggravating, Miss Clinton. He is most disappointing. He should be like soft clay inour hands, and he isn't. Is that not so?"

"Is it not possible, Madame Obosky, that we, --you and I, --may have anentirely different viewpoint so far as Mr. Percival is concerned? Or anyother man, for that matter?" Ruth spoke coldly, almost insultingly. 

"I dare say, " agreed Olga, composedly, not in the least offended by theimplication. "You want to marry him. I do not. "

"How dare you say that? I do not want to marry that man. I do not wantto marry him, I say. "

"How interesting. You surprise me, Miss Clinton. It appears, then, thatour viewpoint is in nowise different, after all. "

"What do you mean by that?"

"I leave it to your imagination, --and to reflection. Listen! We may aswell be friends. You do not wish to admit it, even to yourself, butyou are in love with him. So am I. The difference between us is thatI realize I can get along without him, and still be happy. I am notjealous, my dear. If I were, I should hate you, --and I do not. He is inlove with you. You know it perfectly well, because you are not a fool. He is not in love with me. No more am I a fool. He--"

"I am not in love with him!"

"So be it, " said Olga shortly. "Have your own way about it. It is not myaffair. You have come to me, however, because you know he loves you andyou know you do not love him. Why, therefore, are you afraid of me?"

"It is useless to continue this--"

"Oh, I see! You do not wish my girls to hear our conversation. " Withoutmore ado, she ordered the three girls out of the hut. "Go out and play, "she commanded. Then, as the girls imparted in haste, she turned to Ruth. "I am very thoughtless. You are not in the habit of discussing your loveaffairs quite so generously as I. Poof! They do not care, those girls. Love affairs mean nothing to my girls. "

"I have no love affair to discuss, Madame Obosky. You need not have sentthem away. Good-bye.. There is nothing more to be said--"

"Do not go away, --please. You do not know whether to like me or not. Youdo not understand me. You have never encountered any woman as honest asI am, zat is the trouble. Sit down, please. Let us talk. We may be heretogether on this island all the rest of our lives, Miss Clinton. Itwould not be right for us to hate each other. When you are married toMr. Percivail, you will have nothing to fear from me. I give you mysolemn oath on zat, Miss Clinton. Our little world here is too small. Ifwe were out in the great big world, --well, it might be different then. But, how, I ask you, is it possible for me to run away with your husbandwhen there is no place to run away to?"

She spoke so quaintly that Ruth smiled in spite of herself. 

"You are a most extraordinary person, Madame Obosky. I--I can't dislikeyou. No, thank you, I sha'n't sit down. I came to see you about thenaming of the baby. I suppose you know that we women have decided tooppose the--"

"Yes, yes, --I know, " interrupted the other. "But why should we oppose?It is a very small matter. "

"Do you really believe those men had--or have--the right to give a nameto Betty Cruise's baby? I don't believe it, Madame Obosky. "

"In the first place, can you blame Mr. Percivail for taking thematter out of the mother's hands? Mothers are very, oh, so very stupidsometime, you know. For example, my dear Miss Clinton, you have but tosee what Mr. Percivail's mother did to him when he was an infant. Shecalled him Algernon Adonis, --and why? Because she thought he was themost wonderful child in all the world, --and because she was silly. I canalmost hear her arguing now with the father, poor man. One day I askedAlgernon Adonis what name his father called him by, --I was so sure hewould not call him Algernon. He said that up to the day his fatherdied he called him Bud. That's a toy's name, you see. I am in favour ofchildren being named by outsiders, disinterested outsiders, --a committeeor something, --men preferably. I think this child should be calledDoraine. Betty Cruise she do not care what she call it now that it isnot possible to call it Jimmy Percivail or Percivail Jimmy. Has it occurto you that if it had been a boy, all these men would have insisted onJimmy, without the Percivail?"

"I like the name Doraine, --we all do. What we resent is Mr. Percival'spresumption in--"

"Let me tell you one more thing. Do not permit Mr. Percivail to addressyour indignation meeting tonight, for if you do, and he smiles zatnice, good-humoured smile and tells the ladies zat he is sorry to havedisplease them, and zat he is to blame entirely for the blunder, --poof!Zat will be the end!"

"I am not so sure of that, " said Ruth. "There are some very determinedwomen among us, Madame Obosky. " A faint line appeared between her eyes, however, --a line acknowledging doubt and uncertainty. "And you will notjoin us in the protest?"

"No, " said Olga, shaking her head. "I am content to let the men havetheir way in small things, Miss Clinton. It makes zem--them somuch easier to manage when it comes to the big things. I speak fromexperience. Once let a man think he is monarch of all he surveys and hebecomes the most humble of subjects. As I have said before, we may allbe here for a long, long time. No one can tell. So, I say, we must patour men on the back and tell zem what great, wise, strong fellows theyare, --and how good and gallant too. Then they will fight for us like thelion, and zey--they will work for us like the ass and the oxen, becauseman he enjoys to be applauded greatly. A man likes to have his hairrubbed gently with the finger tips. He will smile and close his eyes andif he knew how he would purr like the cat. But, my dear, he do not liketo have his hair pulled. Zat is something for you to remember, --you andall your determined women, as you call them. "

"Of course you understand, Madame Obosky, I--and the other women, --arethinking only of Betty Cruise in this matter. "

"From what I have been told, all these men out here stayed awake halfthe night thinking about her, Miss Clinton. They behave like so manydistracted fathers waiting for news from the bed-chamber. Bless theirhearts, you might think from their actions that the whole two--threehundred of them consider themselves the consolidated father of zatsingle infant. "

"I must be getting back to my work, " said Ruth abruptly. Her eyes wereshining, her voice was soft and strangely thick. "But, " she went onbravely, after clearing her throat, "we intend to fight it out withthem, just the same, Madame Obosky. "

Olga went to the door with her. 

"You mean, you intend to fight it out with Mr. Percivail, --you yourself, eh?"

"It is not a personal matter with me, let me remind you once more. Heis their leader. He dominates them. He is the force that holds themtogether. That's all. "

"And you would render that force impotent, eh? I see. How wise you womenare!"

Ruth stopped short, struck by the remark. "Say that again, please. "

Olga repeated the words slowly, significantly, and added: "They mighthave a worse leader, Miss Clinton. "

At another time, Ruth Clinton would have been deeply impressed by theunderlying significance of the Russian's words. But she was at the mercyof a stubborn, rebellious pride. She chose to ignore the warning thatlay in Obosky's remark. She felt herself beaten, and she was defiant. Itwas too late to hark now to the mild, temperate voice of reason. 

Something rankled deep down in her soul, something she was ashamed toacknowledge even to herself. It was the disagreeable conviction thatPercival ascribed her activities to nothing more stable than feminineperversity, --in fact, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he evenwent so far as to attribute them to spitefulness. Something in his voiceand manner, as he left her that morning, suggested the kindly chiding ofa wilful child. Well, he should see!

"I don't care what it all comes to, Madame Obosky, " she said, a red spotin each cheek. "He shall not name that baby. "

The Russian smiled. "Forgive me for saying that you will not feel sobitterly toward him when the time comes for him to name your baby. "

Ruth's lips fell apart. She stared for a moment in sheer astonishment. Then she paled with anger. Drawing herself to her full height, sheasked:

"Are you deliberately trying to make me despise you?"

"By no means, " replied the other, quite cheerfully. "I am merely givingyou something to think about, zat is all. "

"Rubbish!" was all that Ruth flung over her shoulder as she walked away. 

CHAPTER V. 

It was the noon hour. Scores of men were resting in the shade of thehuts as she strode briskly past. They all smiled cheerily, but therewas good humoured mockery in their smiles. Here and there were groups ofwomen talking earnestly, excitedly. 

Abel Landover was leaning in his doorway, watching her approach. Hiseyes gleamed. She was very beautiful, she was very desirable. She hadbeen in his mind for months, --this fine, strong, thoroughbred daughterof a thoroughbred gentleman. His sleeves were rolled up, his throatwas bare; his strong, deeply lined face was as brown as a berry; ifanything, his cold grey eyes were harder and more penetrating thanin the days when they looked out from a whiter countenance. He was astrong, dominant figure despite, the estate to which he had fallen, --asilent, sinister figure that might well have been described as "TheThinker. " For he was always thinking. 

"I understand you tackled the 'boss' this morning, Ruth, " he said as shecame up. 

"I daresay the news is all over the island by this time, " she replied, still angry. 

"Was it worth while?" he inquired, a trace of derision in his voice. 

She was on the point of replying rather emphatically in the negative, when suddenly she recalled the look in Percival's eyes and the firstwords he spoke to her. She caught her breath. Her eyes sparkled, herlips parted in a rosy smile. 

"Yes, Mr. Landover, it was worth while, " she said, and went on, leavinghim to reflections that were as perplexing as they were unanticipated. 

She experienced a short spell of triumph. After all, Percival was inlove with her. She did not need Olga Obosky to tell her that. She couldsee, she could feel for herself. A certain glee possessed her, --indeed, as she afterwards succeeded in analysing the sensation, it bordereddecidedly on malice. She had it in her power to make him miserable andunhappy. She would enjoy seeing him unhappy!

The meanness of the woman who longs to injure the man who loves her, whether loved or unloved, revealed itself for the moment in thisfair-minded, generous girl. (It is a common trait, admitted by manyfair-minded and generous women!) But even as she coddled and encouragedthe little sprout of vengeance, the chill of common-sense rushed up andblighted it. 

She had a sickening impression that Percival would fail to play thepart according to her conception. In fact, he was quite capable ofnot playing it at all. He would pursue the even tenor of his way--(sheactually made use of the time-honoured phrase in her reflections), --andshe would get small satisfaction out of that. 

Moreover, there was Olga Obosky to be reckoned with. She was consciousof a hot, swiftly passing sense of suffocation as the thought of Olgarushed unbidden into her brain, --for an instant only, --and then came thereaction: a queer chill that raced over her body from head to foot. Whatpart would Olga Obosky play in the game?

The women congregated on the forward deck of the Doraine after supperthat night. The evening repast was no longer dignified by the worddinner. The sky was inky black; not a star flickered in the vault above. There were low, far off mutterings of thunder. The rail lanterns, --fewand far between, --threw their pallid beams down into the rippling basinin a sickly effort to penetrate the gloom. 

Captain Trigger and Mr. Mott, smoking their pipes on the makeshiftbridge, studied the throng of women in dour silence. 

"I understand the farmers are praying for rain, " remarked Mr. Mott, sniffing the air with considerable satisfaction. 

"It would do no end of good, " said Captain Trigger, without taking hiseyes from the chattering mass below. 

Mr. Codge, the purser, joined them. 

"What are they waiting for?" he asked. "Why don't they call the meetingto order?"

"They did that half an hour ago, " said Mr. Mott. "Good Lord, man, can'tyou hear them talking? Have you no ears at all?"

"But they're all talking at once. "

"And why shouldn't they?" demanded the First Officer. "It's theirmeeting, isn't it?"

"I met Miss Clinton as I was coming up. She was going to her room. I asked her how the meeting was getting along. I don't believe sheunderstood me, because all she said was 'good-night. '"

"I guess she understood you, all right, " said Mr. Mott, again sniffingthe air. "Seems to me it's getting a little nearer, Captain Trigger. There's a little breeze coming up, too. "

"A good thunder-storm, --" began the Captain, musingly, but failed tocomplete the sentence. 

"Would settle something besides the dust, " said Mr. Codge, after adeferential wait of a few seconds. 

A figure detached itself from the mass on the weirdly lighted deck belowand, approaching the perch of the three officers, came to a halt almostdirectly below them. The light of a lantern fell fairly on the upturned, smiling face of Olga Obosky. 

"What is the hour, Captain Trigger?" she inquired. 

"Almost nine, Madame Obosky. 

"That is nearly two bells, eh, yes? How peaceful you look up there, youthree old owls. "

"Come up!" invited the Captain cheerily. She joined them a moment later. "Tell me, are they leaving a shred of Percival and his band of outlaws?"

Mr. Codge struck a match and held it for her to light a cigarette. She inhaled deeply and then expelled the smoke in what seemed like aprolonged sigh of satisfaction. 

"They are very funny, those women, " she said, placing her elbows on therail and looking down at the crowd. "Do you know what the trouble isnow? It is this: they cannot think of a way to condemn the actionof those men as a body without also including Mr. Percivail in theverdict. "

"How's that?"

"Ninety-five per cent, of them want to exonerate Mr. Percivail, but theydon't know how to do it in view of the fact that he is the guiltiestman of them all. That's why I say they are very funny, those women. Theyapprove of what he has done in naming the baby, because whatever he doesmust be right, but they are almost unanimous in charging that all theother men out there were wrong. So they are in a great dilemma. "

Captain Trigger laughed. "I see. What was Miss Clinton's position in thedebate?"

"Oh, she was one of those who insisted that Mr. Percivail alone be heldaccountable, the other men not at all. She was the chairman, you see, and they were oblige to listen to her at first. But zen, presently, oneof those Brazilian ladies said it was a shame to put all the blame ondear Mr. Percivail, who is such a gentleman and so splendid and allzat, --and zen--then zat Mrs. Block jump up and say that if it was notfor Mr. Percivail her husband would have been killed last week when hefell off of the landing into ten sousand feet of water. And the greatCareni-Amori she get up and say she would die for Mr. Percivail becausehe is such a gentleman, and two of those nurses at the same time cry outthat he ought to be in the hospital because he is so worn-out workingfor other people zat he can hardly drag his poor feet around. And so itgoes. Miss Clinton has departed, her chin in the air. But she does notdeceive me. She has gone to her room to have a good weeping. "

"Well, I wish they'd get together on something, " growled the Captain;"so's we can all go to bed and get a few hours' sleep. "

"Like as not they're keeping the baby awake with all this jabbering, "said Mr. Codge. "And that isn't good for babies, you know. They've gotto have plenty of sleep. Specially little ones. "

"Will you tell me, Captain Trigger, why Mr. Percivail did not comeaboard tonight?" asked Olga suddenly. "They were expecting him. "

"And they were disappointed, eh?"

"I dare say. At any rate, a good many of them kept peering out overthe water most of the time, and listening for the sound of oars. " Shelaughed softly. 

The men chuckled. "Talk about strategy, " said Mr. Mott, "he's a birdat it. Keeps 'em guessing, he does. By glory, I wish I'd known how tohandle women as well as he does. I might have been married fifteenor twenty times if I could have kept 'em anxious and worried, --butI couldn't. I never did have any sense about women. That's why I'm abachelor instead of a grandfather. "

"He told Miss Clinton he was coming, " said Olga, harking back to theunanswered question. 

"I daresay he changed his mind, " said the Captain, rather evasively. 

"I do not believe zat. There is some other reason. He is not a woman, Captain Trigger. "

"Well, to tell you the truth--but don't let it go any farther, Madame, --he came aboard just before supper to find out how Mrs. Cruiseis getting along. Dr. Cullen told him exactly what all these women downthere know, --that she's very low, --so he went ashore. Said somethingabout not wanting to take part in any racket that might disturbher, --noisy talk, and all that, --and left a bunch of wild flowers forher in case she was better by morning. "

There was a slight noise behind them. Turning, they saw the figure of awoman in the shadow of the deck house. 

"Who's there?" demanded Mr. Mott. 

Ruth Clinton stepped forward into the light. 

"Did he--did he do that?" she asked huskily. 

"He did, " said the Captain. 

"And is she so very ill? I did not know, Captain Trigger. "

"She's likely to die, Miss Clinton, --poor little woman. "

Ruth was silent for a moment. Then: "Do you think she--she can hear allthat hubbub down there?"

"I am sure she cannot. But Percival was afraid she could, so he--well, he thought it best not to make it any worse by adding his groans ofagony when you women tore him limb from limb out here on deck. That'sthe way he put it, so don't look at me like that. "

Ruth suddenly hung her head and walked away. As she disappeared down thesteps, Mr. Codge remarked, sotto voce:

"She isn't as rabid as she was, is she?"

"She's got it in for Percival ever since he took that fall out ofLandover, " said Mr. Mott. 

"Think she's--er--keen on Landover? He's a good bit older than sheis, --twenty years or so, I should say. "

"Don't ask me, Codge. As I was saying awhile ago, I don't know anythingwhatsoever about women. They know all about me, but, gosh, I'm worsethan a baby goat where they're concerned. There's no law against herbeing in love with Landover, and there's no law against him marrying awoman fifty years younger'n himself if he feels like it. Now you takethat good looking Russian over there talking to the Captain. Who knowswhat's in her mind? Nobody, sir, --nobody. All I know is that Landovertried to--"

"Sh! They've got ears like cats, " cautioned Mr. Codge. 

"--And she put him in his place so quick it made his head swim. That'swhy he's got it in for her so hard. He says she's not fit for decentwomen to associate with. On the other hand, if she had been willing toflirt a little with him, and so on, he would have said all the otherwomen were cats if they refused to take up with her. That's a man allover for you, Codge. I hope Miss Clinton ain't considering gettingmarried to that man. He's one of these here what-do-you-call-'ems? Er--"

"Sybarites?" said Codge, who had picked up a good deal fromconversations with Peter Snipe. 

"That ain't the word, " said Mr. Mott. "Now, I'll lay awake all nighttrying to think of that word. Damn the luck!"

He fell into a profound state of mental concentration, from which he wasaroused a few minutes later by the swift and almost unheralded showerthat rushed up ahead of the thunderstorm. The rumble of the "applecarts" in the vault above had suddenly become ominous, and there werefitful flares of light in the blackness. 

The indignation meeting broke up in a wild scurry of skirts. It isworthy of mention that nothing definite had transpired. The speeches ofthe ardent suffragettes from the wilds of London were all that the mostexacting could have demanded, for they covered all of the known and agreat many of the unsuspected iniquities that the masculine flesh isheir to, but except for an introductory sentence or two they failed totouch upon the object of the meeting. They all began with somethinglike "While I am frank to admit that Doraine is a very pretty name, " or"Notwithstanding the fact that Doraine is a lovely name, " or "If I hada child of my own, I should not in the least object to calling herDoraine, " and so on and so forth, but they cruelly abandoned the baby inthe next breath, leaving it to be revived by the ensuing speaker. 

The rain came just in time to prevent a vote being taken on a motionmade by Miss Gladys Spotts. She moved that a committee of three beappointed to serve notice on Captain Trigger, et al, that it was theunanimous sense of the meeting that the women should not only havevoice and vote on all public questions, but also representation in theofficial government. She had learned that there was talk of electinga mayor, a town clerk, a treasurer, a sheriff and a board ofcommissioners, and it ought to be understood in advance that--

The torrent came at that instant, but it requires a very slightstretching of the imagination in order to understand precisely what MissSpotts insisted ought to be understood. 

It rained very hard all night, and thundered, and lightened, and blewgreat guns. Not one, but all of the women, tucked away in their bunks, wondered how those poor men were faring out there in that black andlonely camp!

The next morning it was still raining. (In fact, it rained steadily forthree days and nights. ) Betty Cruise died shortly after daybreak, andwith her death ended the controversy over the naming of her babe. 

She was the first to be laid to rest in the burying-ground on CapeSunrise. Services were conducted on the Doraine by the Reverend Mr. Mackenzie, assisted by Father Francisco. All work was suspended on themorning of the funeral. Shortly before noon the entire company walked, in a long, straggling procession, from the landing to the spot threemiles distant where the lonely grave awaited its occupant. Careni-Amorisang "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Nearer, my God, to Thee, " at thegraveside. There were tears in a thousand eyes, and every voice washusky. To most of these people, Betty Cruise meant nothing, but she wasto lie out there alone on the wind-swept point, and they were deeplymoved. They all went back to work after the midday meal, a strangelysilent, thoughtful company, --even down to the lowliest "Portugee. "

Mr. Mott, the gaunt old cynic, surprised every one, including himself, by adopting the infant! He announced his decision on the day after thefuneral. 

"That baby's got to have a father and a grandfather and a mother, andall that, " he declared to Captain Trigger, "and I'm going to be all ofthem, Weatherby. It ain't legal, I know, and I reckon I'll have to turnher over to her proper relatives if they make any demand, --provided weever get off this island, --but while she's here she's mine, and thatsettles it, and as long afterward as God's willing. Chances are that noone at home will want to be bothered with an infant that don't actuallybelong to 'em, so I shouldn't wonder but what I'll have her always. Whatare you laughing at?"

"I was just thinking that you didn't mention anything about being agrandmother to her. "

"Is that meant to be sarcastic?"

"Not at all, " said the Captain hastily, noting the look in Mr. Mott'seyes. "But for fear you may think it was, I take it all back, Andrew. "

"I laid awake all last night worrying about how lonely and uselessand unoccupied I'm going to be if we stick here on this island for anyconsiderable length of time, not to say, always, and I made up my mindthat if I had that kid to bring up, life would be sort of worth while. I'll probably live a good deal longer if I have something to live andwork for. Ain't that so?"

"It certainly is, " agreed the Captain. "Do you mind my asking how you'regoing to feed it?"

"I've got that all attended to, " said Mr. Mott calmly. "I've been tosee three of these women who've got tiny babies, and they've promisedbetween 'em to nurse this one. It's all fixed, Captain. Of course, Idon't know how it's going to work out, seeing as one of 'em is Spanish, one of 'em Portugee and the other a full-blooded Indian, --but they'reall healthy. "

"It's very noble of you, Andrew, " said the Captain, laying his hand onthe First Officer's shoulder. 

"Absolutely not, " snapped Mr. Mott. "It's nothing but plain, rottenselfishness on my part, --and I don't give a damn who knows it. "

CHAPTER VI. 

Inside of a fortnight after the events just chronicled, the women cameashore to occupy the practically completed huts. 

The Doraine was deserted except for Captain Trigger and the half-dozensailors who remained with him. These sailors were ancient tars whoselives had been spent at sea. They were grizzled, wizened old chaps. Oneof them, Joe Sands, had been an able seaman for forty-six years, and, despite a perpetual crick in the back, he insisted that he was stillan abler seaman than ninety-five per cent, of the thirty-year-oldswho followed the sea for a living. When Captain Trigger announced hisresolve to stay on board, where he belonged, these vainglorious oldseadogs elected to remain with him to the end. 

The exodus of women was hastened somewhat by the further listing of theDoraine. This was due primarily to the removal of thousands of tons fromthe holds, the galley and the engine room. A more sinister cause foralarm, however, was the action of the greatly lightened vessel when atidal wave swept into the basin from the north. This came at the tag endof the storm, --on the third day, in fact. The Doraine seemed actually tobe afloat for a few seconds, heaving, shuddering, groaning. Her bottom, after scraping and grinding and giving up the most unearthly sounds, suddenly appeared to have freed itself completely from the rocks onwhich it was jammed. She seemed on the point of righting herself. Thenshe started to roll over on her side! Almost as abruptly she stopped, shivered, and then lay still again. But she was not in her old position. She was lying over at least two degrees farther than before theupheaval. 

This same, tremendous tidal wave, driven up by the strong wind thathad blown steadily and viciously out of the north for threedays, --or perhaps created by some vast internal convulsion of theearth, --completely inundated the low-lying point of land known as CapeSunrise, At least two miles of the island was temporarily under water. The high ridge lining the shore alone prevented the sea from hurtlingover into the valley to destroy the fields and gardens and even toimperil the row of huts along the opposite slope. 

Out on Cape Sunrise the waters swept over the lonely grave of BettyCruise, but fell back baffled when they attacked the foothills thatprotected the homes of the living. There were superstitious persons whoread meaning into this startling visitation of the sea. They made uglyromance of it. For, said they, the lonely spirit of Jimmy Cruise wastrying to reach its mate, --aye, striving to drag her body down to thebottom of the sea to lie beside his own. 

As the days went by, --long days that were not governed by any daylightsaving law, --the settlement took on the air and life of a sequesteredvillage. There was the general warehouse from which stores weredispensed sparingly by agents selected for such duties. Women andmen went to market and carried home the provender. A fish market wasestablished; wood-yards, fruit and vegetable booths, a dispensary, anda general store where leather, cloths of various description, and furswere to be had by requisition. 

In speaking of the dispensary, Dr. Cullen complacently announced thatthe supply of medicine was limited, but that it was nothing to worryabout. He declared bluntly, --and with a twinkle in his eye, --that peopletook too much medicine anyhow. 

"Medicine is a luxury, " he said. "The more we stuff into people the morethey want, and the less they take the sooner they forget they're sick. As your doctor, from this time on, I shall be delighted to set yourbroken bones, sew up your gashes, and all that sort of thing, but it isprecious little medicine I'll give to you. So don't get sick. The onlyepidemic we can have here, according to my judgment, is an epidemic ofgood health. Am I right, gentlemen?"

The two young American doctors put aside their dignity and grinned. 

The wines and liquors from the Doraine were brought ashore and lockedaway in the cellar beneath the warehouse. It could be had only on thedoctor's orders. 

"It won't hurt any of us to drink nothing but water for awhile, " saidPercival in discussing the matter; "and the chances are we'll be lesslikely to hurt each other if we let the grog alone. There'll be nodrinking on this island if I can help it. I understand some of youmen are planning to put the pulp of the algarobo through a process offermentation and make chica by the barrel. Well, if I have anything tosay about it, you'll do nothing of the sort. I know that stuff. It's gotmore murder in it than anything I've ever tackled. We can make flour outof that pulp, as some of you know, and that's all we are going to makeout of it. Besides, we can be decent longer on flour than we can onchica. 

"We'll find it harder to do without tobacco than without booze, andunless we discover something to take its place we'll be smokeless ina few weeks. Professor Knapendyke is experimenting with a shrub he hasdiscovered here. He says it may be a fairly good substitute if properlycured. But it won't be tobacco, so I guess we may as well make up ourminds to swear off smoking as well as drinking. I hope there's nothingin the saying that the good die young. Because if there is, we're in foran epidemic that will wipe out four-fifths of our population in no timeat all. We're going to be so good we'll die like flies. "

The weeks wore on and the fields of grain were harvested. The yield wasnot a heavy one, but it was sufficient to justify the rather hap-hazardexperiments. The fifty-odd acres of wheat produced a little over athousand bushels. The twenty-acre oat-field had averaged forty bushels. A few acres of barley, sown broadcast in the calcareous loam along thecoast, amounted to nothing. 

Primitive means for grinding the grain had been devised. This firstcrop was being laboriously crushed between roughly made mill-stones, butbefore another harvest came along, a mill would be in operation on thebanks of Leap Frog River. 

The exploration of the island had long since been completed. In certainparts of the dense forest covering the western section there weremagnificent specimens of the Norfolk Island pine. Fruits of the citrousfamily were found in abundance; wild cherries, wild grapes, figs, and anapple of amazing proportions and exceeding sweetness. Pigeons in greatnumbers were found, a fact that puzzled Professor Knapendyke not alittle. 

He finally arrived at an astonishing conclusion. He connected thepresence of these birds with the remark-able exodus of wild pigeons fromtheir haunts in the United States in the eighties. Millions of pigeonsat that time took their annual flight southward from Michigan, Indianaand other states in that region, and were never seen again. What becameof this prodigious cloud of birds still remains a mystery. Knapendykenow advanced the theory that in skirting the Gulf of Mexico on their wayto the winter roosts in Central America they were caught by a hurricaneand blown out to sea. By various stages the bewildered survivors of thegale made their way down the east coast of South America, only tobe caught up again by another storm that carried them out into theAtlantic. A few reached this island, hundreds of miles from themainland, and here they remained to propagate. At any rate, thenaturalist was preparing to put his impressions and deductions into theform of a paper which he intended to submit to the National GeographicMagazine as soon as he returned to the United States. 

The more practical Mr. Fitts decided to start a squab farm. 

A few of the giant iguanas were seen, and many smaller ones. The meatof the iguana is a great delicacy. There were no beasts of prey, noherbaceous animals. 

Lookouts on Top o' the Morning Peak reported the presence of monstrousbirds at rare intervals. Where they came from and whither they went noone could tell. There were unscalable cliffs and crags at the westernend of the island, and it is possible that they had their nests amongthem. 

Lieutenant Platt described the first of these huge birds as being atleast thirty feet from tip to tip. It flew low above the top of SplitMountain and disappeared beyond the hills to the west. When firstdescried by one of the lookouts, this bird was far out over the ocean, approaching the island from the east. As it soared over the heads of themen, several hundred feet above them, its wings full spread, it was morelike a small monoplane than a bird. In colour it was a dirty yellow, with a black belly and head. Before any one could procure a gun from thehut it was out of range, flying at an incredible speed. A few days lateranother was seen, coming from the same direction. It was flying muchhigher, and a few futile shots were fired at it. Then, after a week orten days without a single one of the monsters being seen, five of themappeared in the west and flew eastward over the island and out to sea. 

"What was the name of that passenger-carrying bird they were alwaystalking about in the 'Arabian Nights'?" inquired Platt. 

"You mean the roc, " replied Knapendyke. "If it ever really existedoutside of the fairy tales, it is now extinct. The nearest thing to itin size is the condor, I suppose. "

"I've seen some whopping big condors up in the Andes, " said Percival, "but twelve feet from tip to tip was what the natives called afull-grown specimen. What do you make of these birds, Flattner?"

"After seeing an iguana eighteen feet long, I'm ready to believeanything. A protracted and an enforced spell of sobriety is the onlything that keeps me from diagnosing my own case as delirium tremens. There's one thing sure. Birds as big as these, and iguanas as huge asthe three we've seen, --to say nothing of the enormous flying fish MorrisShine claims to have seen, --take me back to the Dark Ages. I daresaywe're seeing the tag end of the giants. God knows how old these birdsand reptiles are, --hundreds of years, at least. I'd give almost anythingto get one of those birds and stuff him. There was once a flying animalknown as the pteranodon. It has been extinct for millions of years. Belonged to the class called pterodactyls. Who knows? If you fellowscould shoot for sour apples, I'd have one of 'em. "

Christmas and New Year's day, long since past, had been celebrated ina mild, half-hearted way on board the Doraine. Easter was drawingnear, and Ruth Clinton took upon herself the task of arranging specialservices for the children. She was going ahead with her plans whenher aunt, with some bitterness, advised her to consult the "King ofBabylon"--(a title surreptitiously accorded Percival by the unforgivinglady)--before committing herself too deeply to the enterprise. 

"It would be just like him to cut Easter out of the calendaraltogether, " said she. 

"He cannot possibly have any objection to an Easter service, " protestedRuth, her brow puckering. 

"There's no telling what he will object to, " said Mrs. Spofford. 

"He is really quite tenderhearted, and awfully fond of children, youknow. I am sure he will be very much pleased with the--Besides, " shebroke off to say with considerable heat, "Mr. Percival is not as highand mighty as he imagines himself to be. Other people have somethingto say about the management of this camp. You forget, --and so does heperhaps, --that we have a council of ten. I rather fancy--"

"Pooh!" sniffed her aunt. "He is worse than all the Tammany bosses puttogether. The other men on the council of ten eat out of his hand, asAbel Landover says. His word is law, --or, I should have said, his smileis law. All he has to do is to grin and the argument is over. I'venever seen anything like the way people give in when he smiles. It isdisgusting. "

"Please don't forget, Auntie, that he did not smile on Saturday whenManuel Crust stopped him in front of the meeting-house and said he wasgoing to take Sunday off from work up in the woods. He didn't smilethen, did he? And there were a dozen men planning to take the day offwith Manuel Crust, too. "

"I confess I was frightened, " admitted Mrs. Spofford, with a slightshudder. "That Manuel Crust is a--a dangerous man. He carries a knife. Isaw it. "

"Were your sympathies with Manuel Crust or Mr. Percival? Answer, please. "

"Naturally, my dear, I--why, of course, they were with Percival. He wasone man against a dozen. Besides, he does represent law and order. Ihave never questioned that, have I?"

"Weren't you a weeny, teeny bit proud of him yesterday, Aunt Julia?"

"Weren't you?" countered the other. 

"I could have hugged him, " exclaimed Ruth, her eyes sparkling. "I hatehim, --mind you, --but I could have hugged him, just the same. "

Mrs. Spofford looked searchingly into the girls clear, shining eyes. 

"I wish I knew just how much you hate him, Ruth. "

"Be honest, Auntie. What you mean is, how little I hate him; isn't thatso?"

"I don't believe you hate him at all. "

"Well, the first chance you get, ask him how much I hate him. He willtell you. Now let's talk about Easter Sunday. I don't in the least seewhy I should go down on my knees to Mr. Percival in order to--"

"Manuel Crust went down on his knees, didn't he?"

"Don't be silly! Manuel Crust was leading a strike. I am arranging asacred entertainment. "

"Still, if I were you, my dear, I would ask him what he thinks aboutit. "

"All right, " cried Ruth, "I'll ask him. And what's more, I shall ask himto sing in the choir. He will love it. "

Not only did Percival promise to sing in the choir, but he eagerlyoffered to help her with the decorations. But when she announced thatshe was going up into the hills in quest of the little red winterberries that grew in profusion, he flatly put his foot down on theproject. 

"I don't feel any too sure of Manuel Crust and his gang, " said he. "They're in an ugly mood and they are brutes, Miss Clinton. Don't bealarmed. They're not likely to molest you or any one else, but I don'tbelieve in taking chances. Just at present they're pretty sore at meand they're doing all they can to stir up discord. It will work out allright in the end, of course. They may be beasts but they're not fools. "

"Is it true that Manuel Crust claims that every man should have hiswoman?" she asked steadily. 

He was surprised by the frank, unembarrassed question. "Crust is aboutas vile as they make them, Miss Clinton. Most of these fellows aredecent, however. "

"But you have not answered my question. "

"I will answer it by saying that if he has any such notion as that inhis mind he will have it taken out of him in short order if he attemptsto put it into practice. The women on this island will be protected, Miss Clinton, if we have to kill Manuel Crust and his fol-lowers. Itis true he has been preaching that sort of gospel among the viciousand ignorant Portugees and half-casts, but it's all talk. Don't pay anyattention to it. "

"We can't help being worried. Suppose his following is much larger thanyou think. They are a rough, lawless crowd, and--"

"Ninety-five per cent, of the men here are decent. That's the onlycomfort I can give you. " He smiled his whimsical smile. "I think youwill find that you will be courted in the regular, old-fashioned way, and proposed to with as much solemnity and uncertainty as if you wereback at home, and it will be left for you to choose your own husband. Wehave two ministers of the gospel here, you know. I predict some ratherviolent courtships, and perhaps a few ill-advised marriages, but you mayrest assured that no man is going to claim you until you claim him. "

He was looking straight into her eyes. She felt the blood mounting toher cheek, --and was conscious of a strange, delicious sensation as ofperil stealing over her. 

"You are most reassuring, " she managed to say, scarcely above a whisper, and then paused expectant. 

Afterwards she was shamed by the exquisite pain of anticipation thathad coursed through her in that moment of waiting. She never could quiteaccount for the temporary weakness that assailed her and left her muteand helpless under the spell of his eyes. She only knew that she waitedexpectant, --for something that never came! What she might have said inresponse, what she might have done if he had uttered the words she wasprepared to hear, she did not care to contemplate, even in the privacyof her own thoughts. She only knew that she was ashamed of the thrillthat went over her and strangely bitter toward him for being the causeof it. She would not admit to herself that disappointment had anythingto do with it, --for she found herself arguing, nothing could have beenmore distressing than to rebuff him when he seemed so eager to help herin her plans for Easter Sunday. 

The fact remains, however, that Percival held his tongue, and she neverquite understood why he did. 

The time and the place of this encounter invited confession. There wasa full moon in the heavens, the night was still, the air crisp with thetang of October in the north, --and they were alone in the shadow of the"tabernacle. " Lights gleamed in the little windows that stretched tothe right and left of them. Far off somewhere in the dark, an unseenmusician was gently thrumming a fandango on his Spanish guitar. She hadbeen on her way home from Careni-Amori's cabin, where she had gained theprima-donna's promise to sing, when she saw him, walking slowly acrossthe "Green. " His hands were clasped behind his back, his head was bent. She experienced a sudden rush of pity for him, --she knew not why, exceptthat he looked lonely and forgotten. It was she who turned aside fromher course and went out across the Green to join him. 

"You are most reassuring, " she had said. The dusky light of the moonfell full upon her upturned face; her shadowy, limpid eyes were lookingstraight into his; enchantment charged the air with its soft andlanguorous breath, --and yet he looked away!

After a moment he spoke. His voice was steady and, --to her, --almostsardonic. 

"The day of the cave-man is past. Likewise the cannibal. I think I canpromise that you will neither be beaten nor eaten, --but you do run alittle risk in being abroad on such a night as this, --and alone. "

She stiffened. "I don't think there is the slightest danger, Mr. Percival. "

"I wasn't thinking of danger, " he said. "There is a lot of differencebetween danger and consequences. You see, you might have been mistakenin your man. I might have turned out to be Manuel Crust. "

"I--I--I was sure it was you, " she stammered, and wished she had notsaid it. It was a confession that she knew his figure so well that shecould recognize it in the gloom of the night and at a distance thatshould have rendered him almost invisible. 

"Even so, I am Manuel's brother under the skin, " he said. "Like JudyO'Grady and the Colonel's lady, you know. However, all's well that endswell, so what's the use of magnifying the peril that stalks through theland. "

"You were brought up on the good, old-fashioned novels, I see. That'sthe language of heroes, --and heroes live only in novels, where they areperfectly safe from harm, thanks to the benevolent author. "

"You're right. I was brought up among the old-fashioned heroes. I livedthrough every adventure they had, I longed for every girl they loved, I envied everything they did, and I dreamed the most beautiful dreamsabout prowess and virtue and love. I rather fancy I'm a better manfor having been a swashbuckling boy. I acquired the generous habit offalling in love with every heroine I read about, and in my thoughts Iperformed even more prodigious deeds of valour in her behalf than thehero to whom she inevitably plighted her troth in the final chapter. Inreal life, however, I've never been in a position to do anything moreheroic than give up my seat in trolley-cars to ladies of all ages, --Bythe way, have you never longed desperately to be a heroine?"

"Of course, I have, " she cried, smiling in spite of herself. Her eyeswere sparkling again, for the danger was past. "And I have loved ahundred heroes, --madly. " She hesitated and then went on impulsively: "Wehaven't been very friendly, Mr. Percival. Perhaps I am to blame. In anycase, you have been very generous and forbearing. That is more than Ihave been. I never thought I could bring myself to the point of sayingthis to you. Can't we be friends again?"

He was silent for a moment. 

"Do you mean to go back to where we were before--Well, before weclashed?"

"Yes, --if you will put it in that way. "

"I can't go back to that stage, " he said, shaking his head. "You mayhave stood still, Miss Clinton, but I have progressed. "

"I don't know what you mean. "

"You will, after you reflect awhile, " he said. 

She drew back, in a sudden panic. She spoke hurriedly, her composurewrecked. 

"I--at least, Mr. Percival, I have done my part. If you do not careto be friends, I--I have nothing more to say. We must go on just as wewere, --and I am sorry. I have done my part. "

"I do not want to distress you, " he said huskily. "If I were to tellyou why it is best for us to go on as we are, you would lose what littlefaith you may still have in me. I have not always been able to concealmy feelings. You do not care as I do, --and I have been pretty much ofa rotter in showing you just how I feel from time to time, --an ordinarybounder, and God knows I hate the word, --so there's nothing more I cansay without distressing and offending you. I want you to feel perfectlysecure so far as I am concerned. We are out here alone in the night. IfI were to let go of myself now and say what I want to say to you, --well, you would be frightened and hurt and, --God knows I wouldn't hurt you forthe world. I hope you understand, Miss Clinton. "

She had had time to fortify herself. 

"Yes, --I understand, " she said, but not without a strange wonder fillingher mind. 

He was fair, --and yet he was baffling. She had not expected this raretrait in him. Men she had known were not like this. The men who lovedher, --and they had been many, --were impetuous and insistent, demandingmuch and offering everything, --vain-glorious warriors who countedconfidently on easy conquest. She had come in contact with but one classof men: the spoiled, cocksure sons of the rich who love in haste andhave it over with while there is yet time to love again. She caughtherself guiltily wondering how many men of her acquaintance would haveallowed this engaging opportunity to pass without making the most of it!And why should this man be different from the others? She experienced asharp feeling of irritation, and out of that sprang the wilful desire tohurt him because he was different. So she lifted her chin, and lookingstraight into his eyes, said: "I understand perfectly. You prefer that Ishould not put you in the class with Manuel Crust. "

"I'm not quite certain that Manuel's way of handling women isn't thebest after all, " he said musingly. "Ride over 'em rough-shod, tramplethem under foot, kick them to one side and then ask them whether theylove you or not. If they say they don't, all you have to do is to behavelike a gentleman and leave them alone. "

She laughed. "But suppose they were to say they did love you, --whatthen?"

"That, I understand, is what they generally do say, --and it causes agreat deal of trouble for the unfortunate gentleman. "

"Are you never in earnest, Mr. Percival?"

"I was very much in earnest a moment ago. You knew how much in earnest Iwas or you wouldn't have said that nasty thing about Manuel Crust. "

"I am sorry I said it, " she cried. "It was uncalled for, --and I wasdeliberately trying to be mean. "

"I knew it, " he said quietly. "I don't think any the worse of you forit. A woman plays fair until you get her into a corner, --and then sheplays fairer than ever to make up for what she did when cornered. Am Inot right?"

She did not reply. She was staring past him, down the line of huts. Thedoor of Olga Obosky's cabin had opened and closed, projecting for aninstant an oblong block of light into the darkness. The figure of awoman, emerging into the full light of the moon, had caught Ruth'sattention. Percival turned quickly. Together they watched the figuremove swiftly across the Green toward them. Suddenly it stopped, andthen, after a moment, whirled and made off down the line of cabins, soonto be swallowed up by the gloom. 

"Were you expecting some one?" inquired Ruth, icily. 

He was still looking intently into the far-reaching gloom. Neither hadspoken for many seconds. He started, and looked searchingly into hereyes. 

"That was Madame Obosky, " he said. 

"I know. I recognized her, " said she evenly. 

"And you believe she was coming out here to meet me, --isn't that so?"

She drew herself up. "I shall have to say good night, Mr. Percival. No!It is not necessary for you to walk home with me. "

He placed himself in front of her. "Would you mind answering myquestion?"

"Yes, " she flashed, "I think she was coming out here to meet you. Permitme to pass, please. "

He stood aside. "Good night, Miss Clinton. "

He watched her until the door of her cabin swung open, --and he smiledas she stood revealed for an instant in the square of light, for she hadobeyed the impulse to glance over her shoulder. 

She was angry, hurt, disgusted as she slammed the door behind her. 

"Where have you been?" cried out an accusing voice, and Ruth's gaze fellupon the figure in one of the deck chairs beside the fire. "I have beenwaiting for you for--"

"How long have you been here?" cried the girl, stock-still and staring. 

"If Mrs. Spofford had not been so entertaining, I should say for hoursand hours, " said Madame Obosky. 

"As a matter of fact, " said Mrs. Spofford from her side of thefireplace, "it hasn't been more than an hour. Madame Obosky came soonafter you went out, dear. "

"But--but I saw you just now coming out of your cabin, " cried Ruthblankly. She had a queer sensation as of the floor giving way beneathher. 

"You saw--Oh, now I understand!" cried the Russian, with a laugh. "Zosegirls of mine! Zey--they are like so many grandmothers. They will not goto bed until zey know I am safely tucked in myself. Alas, Mrs. Spofford, zose girls do not trust me, I fear. If I go out at night alone, zeyinstantly put their heads together and shake zem all at the same time. So that is what has happen, Miss Clinton. One of them, --Alma, I suspect, because she had a sister who, --Yes, it would be Alma, I am sure, --in anycase, one of zem comes out to get me, so like a policeman. But still Ido not understand something. I have told them I was coming here to seeyou. If it was one of my girls, why has she not come?"

Ruth had turned away, ostensibly to pull down the little window shadebut really to send a swift searching glance out across the Green. 

"She went the other way, " she replied, rather breathlessly. 

Olga sprang to her feet. "Now, what is zat little fool up to?" shecried, angrily. "If I catch her running out to meet men at zis hourof--"

Ruth interrupted her. "She started in this direction but when she sawus, she turned and went the other way. I was talking to Mr. Percivalout near the meeting-house. About the Easter services, Auntie, " she madehaste to say as Mrs. Spofford looked up in surprise. 

Olga was looking at her fixedly, an odd expression in her eyes, her lipsslightly parted. 

"He has promised to help me. He is delighted to sing in the choir. Madame Careni-Amori will sing two solos. She promises to make Joseppising one or two. I--I was discussing the arrangements with Mr. Percival. "

"Now I understand, " said Olga, gaily, but with the odd, inquiring lookstill in her eyes. "Alma thought it was I. I have zem very well-trained, those girls. She sees me with a man, --zip! She runs the other way asfast as she can! That is the height of propriety, --is it not, Mrs. Spofford?"

"I do not quite understand what you mean, Madame Obosky. "

"Why did he say it was you?" cried Ruth, hot with chagrin. 

Olga shrugged her shoulders. "He is so very amiable, " said she. "I daresay he thought it would please you. "

Ruth bit her lip. There was no mistaking the challenge in the Russian'sremark, however careless it may have sounded. 

"I came to see you about Mr. Percivail's birthday, " said Olga, abruptlychanging the subject. "Some one has suggested zat we all join in givinghim a grand great big celebration. Bonfires, fire-works, a banquet withspeeches, and all zat kind of thing. What do you think, eh?"

"He wouldn't like it at all, " said Ruth promptly. "Moreover, why shouldwe celebrate his birthday? He doesn't deserve it any more than scores ofother--"

"Oh, then we must drop it altogether, " broke in Olga, ratherplaintively. "I thought every one would be in favour of it. But, ofcourse, if there is the slightest opposition--"

"I do not oppose it, " said Ruth coldly. "Pray do not let me upset yourplans. "

"It is not my plan. Zat nice, sarcastic Mr. Fitts, and Mr. Malone, andCaptain Trigger, they have proposed it, Miss Clinton, not I. But mennever quite get over being boys. They do not stop to question whethera thing is right or wrong. I dare say after they have thought a littlelonger over it, zey will agree with you that it is foolish to be soenthusiastic about this fellow Percivail, --and the whole project willdissolve into thin air. "

Her hand was on the latch. She met Ruth's harassed, unhappy gazewith her indolent, almost insolent, smile. Suddenly the American girlsnatched up her jacket and the little fur collar she had thrown across achair in the corner. 

"If you don't mind, I will walk part of the way home with you, " shesaid. 

Olga opened the door and looked out. "Thank you, --I am not afraid. Praydo not think of it, --I cannot permit you to come. It is late, --and themoon is under the clouds. Good night, --good night, Mrs. Spofford. "

CHAPTER VII. 

She quickly closed the door behind her and sped off down the line ofnow lightless cabins. A man stepped out of the black shadow beyondthe second cabin and stood in her path. She did not pause, but walkedswiftly, fearlessly up to him, her heart quickening under the thrill ofexultation. He was waiting for her! He had been waiting for her all thelong evening. The time had come!

The night was dark now; a strong wind had sprung up to drive the blackand storm-laden clouds across the moonlit sky. She held out her handswith a little moan of ecstasy, --and then she was in his strong, crushingarms, pressed fiercely to his breast. 

"God, can I believe, --is it true? You have come, --you have come of yourown free will, --you are here in my arms!" His hot lips found hers in awild, passionate kiss. "Speak to me! Tell me it is all real, --that I amnot dreaming. Oh, Ruth, Ruth, --darling!"

Her body stiffened. A convulsive shudder raced over her, and then, foran instant, she was limp and heavy in his embrace. Then suddenly shethrew her arms about his neck and kissed him furiously, savagely, againand again, --breaking away at last with a low, suffocating laugh. 

"Now, --now, -" she cried, "now, what are you going to do with me?"

He lifted his head with a jerk, peering into her face, slow to realizethe incredible mistake he had made. He was still under the spell of theriotous passion that her lustful response had aroused. It had rushedover him like a great, resistless wave, --hot, delicious, tingling. Hehad been amazed, bewildered by the unbelievable craving, --furious anduncontrolled, --which she revealed in her momentary surrender to theelemental. The truth began to dawn upon him even before she spoke. Couldthis be Ruth, --could this unbridled, voluptuous wanton who clung to himand smothered him with kisses be the pure, high-minded girl he had grownto love and revere? She spoke, and then he knew that the consuming firein his blood was unholy, --as unholy as the spark that set it ablaze. 

"Damn you!" he whispered hoarsely, --but he did not put her away fromhim. The lure of the flesh was upon him. It was stronger than his will, stronger than his love. 

For months this woman had beguiled him. There had been times when he wascompelled to fight himself, --times when he asked: "Why not?"

She was alluring, she was frankly a sensualist; but she was patient, shewas crafty. She knew that he was honourably in love with another, butshe was not deterred by that nor by the conviction that her conquest, if she prevailed, would be transitory. She had a code of her own. Itincluded an uncertain element of honour, fixed rather rigidly upon whatshe would have called constancy. Singleness of purpose was her notion ofmorality. She would not have believed herself to be a bad woman any morethan she would have looked upon her lover as a bad man. To her, moralityin its accepted sense signified no more than the suppression of humanemotions and human sensations. As a matter of fact, she consideredherself a good woman if for no other reason than that she steadfastlyhad repelled the munificent appeals of countless infatuated men. Treasure had been laid at her feet, only to be kicked aside. She calmlyspoke of herself as a pearl without price. She was content to possess, but not to be possessed. That was what she called self-respect. She wasa pagan, but she was her own idol. She worshipped herself. She wouldnever permit her idol to be desecrated. 

All this Percival knew, --or rather sensed. He was not above feelinga queer sort of respect and admiration for her. She was not withoutintegrity. 

He had reached the pinnacle of happiness in believing that the girl heloved was in his arms. He was blind and deaf with ecstasy. The awakeningwas a shock. His senses reeled for an instant, --and then Ruth Clintonwent out of his thoughts entirely!

"Damn you!" he cried again, and drew her close. "She hates me, --shewill always hate me, " he was mumbling. "Why should I care? Why shouldI refuse to take--" Her lips were on his again, warm, firm, voluptuous, drawing his heart's blood with the resistless power of a magnet. 

They did not hear the rapid approach of footsteps--heavy, swift as ofone running. A dark, panting figure raced past them, and then anotherbut a few paces behind. 

Percival's senses were released. They cast off the bewitching bonds. Hishead went up again. In a flash his brain was clear. His arms were stillabout her, she was still lying close against him, --but the current ofpassion that consumed both of them was checked. 

"What was that?" she gasped, as if coming out of a dream. 

He released her, and sprang out into the path to peer fruitlessly afterthe unseen runners. The sound of footsteps was rapidly diminishing. 

They were suddenly aware of women's voices far away to the right. They were indistinct but there was a sinister significance in theever-increasing volume. 

"There's trouble out there, " said Percival. "Something wrong. Come, --come along! You must get indoors at once. " He grasped her armand started rapidly off in the direction of her cabin. She stumbledat first, but quickly fell into stride with him. Men's shouts were nowadded to the clamour. 

"I know, --I know, " she cried in his ear. "It has happened, just as Isaid it would. Some of these men are beasts. "

"Then, there's hell to pay, " he grated. 

They reached her cabin just as the door was thrown open. The threestartled coryphees filled the entrance. Recognition was followed by aclatter of agitated voices. Olga was fairly dragged into the cabin. 

"Bolt your door, " was Percival's command as he turned away. 

She stood in the door for a moment, looking after him. He passed outof the radius of light. The chorus of voices grew louder down theway, --like the make-believe mob in the theatre. 

Then she closed the door slowly, reluctantly. The three girls watchedher in silence as she stood for many seconds with her hand on the knob, her eyes tightly shut. 

She turned and faced them. There was a wry smile on her lips asshe shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands in a gesture ofresignation. 

"Yes, --bolt the door, " she said. As Alma hesitated, her eyes grew hard, her voice imperative. "Do you know of any reason why you should not doas both Mr. Percivail and I have commanded?"

"No, --no, Madame, " cried Alma hastily. 

As the heavy wooden bolt fell into place, Olga again shrugged hershoulders and threw herself into a chair in front of the fireplace. 

"Put on your clothes, " she ordered. 

"What is happening, Madame? What is all the noise about?" questioned oneof the girls. 

But there was no answer. Olga was staring into the fire. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Percival's blood was still in a tumult as he ran down the line ofcabins. From every doorway men were now stumbling, half-dressed, half-asleep. Behind them, in many cabins, alarmed, agitated womenappeared. Farther on there were lanterns and a chaotic mass of movingobjects. Above the increasing clamour rose the horrible, uncanny wailof a woman. Percival's blood cooled, his brain cleared. Men shoutedquestions as he passed, and obeyed his command to follow. 

The ugly story is soon told. Philippa, the fifteen-year-old daughter ofPedro, the head-farmer, had gone out from her father's cabin at duskto fetch water from the little reservoir that had been constructedalongside Leap Frog River a short distance above the cabins. The poolwas a scant two hundred yards from her home. It was a five minutes'walk there and back. Half-an-hour passed, and she had not returned. Hermother became uneasy. Pedro reassured her. He laughed at her fears. 

"She could not have fallen into the pool, " he said. "You forget thefence we have built around it. "

"I am not thinking of the pool, Pedro, " she argued. "Go you at once andsearch for her. She is no laggard. She has not stopped in to see one ofthe girls. "

And Pedro went grumpily forth to search for his daughter. An hour laterhe came staggering down from the woods above the pool to meet the dozenor more friends and neighbours who had set out some-time earlier to lookfor the two of them, father and daughter. 

He bore in his arms the limp, apparently lifeless form of Philippa. He was covered with blood, he was chattering like a madman. Out of hisincoherent babble the horrified searchers were able to put together thecruel story. It seems he had heard a faint cry far back in the densewood, --another and yet another. Then utter silence. Even the night-birdswere still. Swift, paralysing fear choked him. He tried to call out ashe rushed blindly up from the pool into the forest, but only hoarse, unnatural gasps left his lips. He fell often, he crashed into the trunksof trees, but always he went onward, gasping out his futile cries. Heknew not how long he beat through the forest. He was not even surethat it was Philippa's cry he had heard, but his soul was filled with agreat, convincing dread. He knew that his beloved Philippa, the idolof his heart, the sunshine of his life, was up there in the woods. Frequently he stopped to listen. He could hear nothing save the poundingof his own heart, and the wheezing of his breath, thick and laboured. 

Then, at last, during one of those silences, he heard something movingin the darkness near at hand. Something--some one was coming toward himthrough the underbrush. He called out hoarsely: "Philippa!" The soundceased instantly, and then he heard a whispered execration. Wild ragepossessed him. He plunged forward into the brush. Something crashed downupon his head, and he felt himself falling forward. The next he knew, he was trying vainly to rise to his feet. Something hot was running intohis eyes, --hot and sticky. He lifted his hand to his head; it came awaywet. He put his fingers into his mouth, -and tasted blood! It wasenough. His strength came back. He sprang to his feet and rushed onward, shouting, cursing, calling upon God! He had no recollection of findinghis girl. Apparently everything was a blank to him until long afterwardshe saw lights moving among the trees, and voices were calling his name. 

Percival and other cool-headed men were hard put to check the fury ofthe mob. Men and women, bent on vengeance, made the night hideous withtheir curses, howls and shrieks. In their senseless fury they preparedto kill. They had heard the stories about Manuel Crust and hisdisciples. Only the determined stand taken by the small group thatrallied to Percival's support kept the maddened crowd from seeking outthese men and rending them limb from limb. The sailors from the Dorainewere the first to listen to the pleas of the level-headed, --just as theyhad been the first to demand the lives of Manuel Crust and his gang. Individually they were rough men and lawless, collectively they werethe slaves of discipline. It was to their vanity that Percival and theothers appealed, --only they called it honour instead of vanity. The mobspirit was--quelled for the time being, at least. No one was so foolishas to believe that it was dead, however. Unless the man guilty of theshocking crime was found and delivered up for punishment, the inevitablewould happen. 

"We'll get the right man, " said the voice of universal fury, "if we haveto cut the heart out of every one of Manuel Crust's gang. "

The women were the worst. They fought like wildcats to reach the cabinsoccupied by the known followers of Manuel Crust. With knives and axesand burn-ing faggots they tried again and again to force their waythrough the stubborn wall of men that had been raised against them. 

As for Manuel Crust and his little group of radicals, they had vanished. They had mingled with the mob at the outset. There were many whorecalled seeing this one and that one, remembered speaking to him, remembered hearing him curse the ravisher. But as their own names beganto run from lip to lip, they silently, swiftly disappeared. 

Dawn found the camp awake, but grimly silent. No one had gone to bed. With the first streak of day, the man-hunt began in earnest. All nightlong the camp had been patrolled. Every cabin had been searched, eventhose occupied solely by women. This search had been conducted inan orderly, business-like way under the supervision of men chosen byPercival. The folly of beating the woods during the night was recognizedeven by the most impatient; there was time enough for that when theblackness of night had lifted. 

Throughout the long night, the restless crowd, with but one thought inmind, hung about the cabin of Pedro the farmer. The doctors and severalof the nurses were in there. Down at the meeting-house a bonfire hadbeen started, and here were grouped the men to whom the leaders hadintrusted firearms and other weapons, --men of the gun crew, underofficers from the Doraine, the committee of ten and others. 

It was accepted as a fact that two men were involved in the heinousdeed. Percival's account of the mysterious runners seemed definitely toestablish this. He called upon Olga Obosky to verify his statement. Ifshe was surprised by his admission that he was in her company when themen rushed past them in the darkness, she did not betray the fact. Sheindulged in a derisive smile when he went on to explain that it was sodark he had failed to recognize her until she spoke to him. She agreedwith him that the two men must have come into the open a very shortdistance above them, having sneaked out between the cabins beforesuddenly breaking into a run. Avoiding the beaten roadway, they had laidtheir course twenty or thirty feet to the right of it, keeping to thesoft, springy turf. 

Percival had issued orders for the entire camp to congregate on theGreen at the first sign of day. The cold grey light of dawn fell uponvague, unreal forms moving across the open spaces from all directions. There was no shouting, no turmoil, scarcely the sound of a voice. Thesilent, ghostly figures merged into a compact, motionless mass in frontof the meetinghouse. It was not necessary for Percival to call for orderwhen he appeared on the steps and began to speak. The only sounds werethe shuffling of feet, the rustling of garments, the deep, restrainedbreathing of the mass. 

He spoke partly in English and partly in Spanish, and he was brief. 

"You know what we are here for and what is ahead of us. I don't have totell you the story of last night. You know it as well as I. You will beglad to hear the latest word from Dr. Cullen. Philippa is conscious. Hethinks she will recover. She is having the best of care and attention. Iwill explain why we are all here now. The first thing for us to do is tocount noses. We will go about it as rapidly as possible. After that, wewill get down to business. Mr. Landover and Mr. Malone will check offthe name of every man, woman and child. As your names are called, comeforward, answer, and then move over beyond the corner of the building. We've got to find out just who is missing, --if any one is missing atall. "

He raised his voice. "I want you all to keep cool. Don't forget that weare after the men who committed this crime. We have no right to say thatManuel Crust or any of his crowd did this thing until we have positiveproof of the fact. It may not have been any of Manuel's gang, don'tforget that, people. We must make no mistakes. I am saying this to younow because I see Manuel Crust and some of his friends standing overthere at the edge of the clearing. Stop! Don't make a move in theirdirection. We've all had time to think, --we've all had time to getourselves in hand. There is a right and a wrong way to handle thisthing, --and we've got to be sure we're right. The guilty cannot escape. They haven't a chance, and you know it. So, let's be sure, --let's bedead sure before we accuse any man. We have no right to charge Manuel'sgang with this crime. The guilty men may be here among us, --absolutelyunsuspected. Chizler! You and Soapy Shay go over and tell those men thatwe are taking a count of all the people in this camp. Tell them to comeand answer to their names. They will be safe. "

The count was never completed. Manuel Crust did not wait for his nameto be called. He pushed his way through the crowd, leaving his followersbehind. Advancing to the foot of the steps he cried out hoarsely toPercival:

"If you want your men, I--I, Manuel Crust, will lead you to one of them. He is up there in the wood. Three men are guarding him. He is SanchoMendez, the blacksmith. Listen, I will tell you. It is the God's truthI tell. There were seven of us hiding out there in the wood. We werescared. We heard our names called out. We had heard the threats to burnus alive. We ran away. We were not cowards, --but still we ran away. Wewould wait till the crowd cooled off. That was my advice. Then we wouldreturn, --then we would help to find the men who did it, --and we wouldhelp to burn them alive. An hour ago Sancho Mendez crawled out of thebrush up there above the landing and begged us to protect him. His legwas broken. He had fallen over a log. You all know Sancho Mendez. He wasa good boy. He was the friend of Boss Percival. He was no friend to me. But he swears he will be my slave for ever if I will save him. Then hetells us everything. When I ask him why the hell he run away, he says helose his mind or something. He just go crazy, he says. He say everybodywas chasing him, --he could hear them in the bushes, he could hear thatgirl screaming out his name, --and all that. He was going to jump in thewater and drown, because he say people tell him always it is the easyway to die. But he falls down and breaks his leg, --here below the knee. He cannot run no more. It is all up. He is afraid to breathe. People areall around him with knives and axes and clubs. He can hear them in thebrush. Then the daylight comes, and he sees us down below in the wood, and he says he thanks God. I will be his friend, --I will save himbecause I am an angel from heaven! Bah! I spit in his face. We tie himto a tree with our belts, and then I come down to tell Boss Percival wehave his man, --his good and loyal friend. "

"Stop!" yelled Percival, as the crowd began to show symptoms of breakingaway. "Listen to me! I give you fair warning. I don't want to do it, but, by God, I'll order these men to shoot the first who tries to startanything. We're going to have law and order here. This man Sancho isgoing to have a fair trial. What's more, he had a companion. What doeshe say of the other man, Manuel Crust?"

"Sancho Mendez says he was alone. There was no other man. "

Percival looked hard into Manuel Crust's bloodshot eyes. An appallingthought had suddenly flashed into his mind. Many seconds passed beforehe dared to open his lips. As if by divine revelation the situation laybare before him, --the whole Machiavelian scheme as conceived by Manuel. Sancho Mendez was to be sacrificed!

Even as he stood there speechless, the plan began to work toward itswell-calculated end. Manuel's friends started to harangue the crowd. They were growling hoarse invectives, shaking their fists in thedirection of the wood, fanning the pent-up fury of the mob into awhirlwind that would sweep everything before it. Once the tide turnedthere would be no stopping it until Sancho Mendez was torn to pieces. Hewould shriek his innocence into deaf ears. And that was Manuel's game. 

Percival's heart leaped with joy as he saw the armed force underLieutenant Platt move swiftly into a position barring the way to thewoods. He thrilled with a mighty pride in the shrewd intelligence andresourcefulness of this trained fighting-man from the far-off homeland. 

Manuel Crust was turning away to mingle with the crowd. Quick as aflash, Percival was down from the steps and at the "Portugee's" side. Hegrasped the man's arm. 

"I've got a gun against your back, " he cried in fierce suppressed tones. "Stand still and keep your mouth shut, or I'll drill a hole through you. You're safe if you do as I tell you, Crust. I'm onto your little game. I'm not saying you are the guilty man, but you know who he is, --and itwon't work. "

Manuel Crust was as rigid as a block of stone. He did not even turn hishead to look into the face of the man who held him. 

Michael Malone and Landover were at Percival's side in an instant. Fromtheir position on the steps they could see what was not visible tothe crowd beyond, --the revolver that was pressed against the small ofCrust's back. 

"Cover this man, " whispered Percival to Malone. "Shoot if he opens hismouth. "

Malone's revolver was jammed against the "Portugee's" back, and Percivalsprang back up the steps. 

Manuel Crust shot a look of surprise at Abel Landover. 

"What the hell--" he began, but choked off the words at a command fromMalone. While Percival was rapidly calling out orders from above, hebroke out recklessly again, addressing the stern-faced banker. 

"Are you my friend or not?" he snarled. "What kind of a man are you?Speak up! Tell them I'm all right. "

"Keep quiet, " warned Malone. 

Landover's eyes met the searching, questioning gaze of the Portuguese. Manuel Crust apparently was satisfied with what he read in them, for aquick gleam of confidence leaped into his own. His chest swelled with atremendous intake of breath. 

The remarkable personality, --or perhaps the magnetism, --of the "boss, "again asserted itself. He made no allusion to the thing uppermost in hismind as he spoke hurriedly, emphatically to the tense throng. When hedirected Randolph Fitts to take a few picked men with him up into thewoods to bring down the captive, there were mutterings but no move onthe part of the crowd either to anticipate or to follow the detachment. A few terse words to Buck Chizler sent that active young man afterFitts, the bearer of instructions. Sancho Mendez was to be brought inalive. His guards were not to be given a chance to kill him when theyrealized that the scheme had failed and he would be allowed to tell hisown story. 

With the departure of Fitts and his men, Percival ordered the people toreturn to their cabins. He promised them that Sancho Mendez should havehis just deserts. Slowly, reluctantly the crowd broke up and shuffledaway in small groups across the dewy Green. Manuel Crust was free togo. The few words that passed between Landover and Percival, althoughunheard by the man, sufficed to put courage back into his heart. He hadcome to look upon the banker as his "pal"! And his "pal" had not failedhim!

This is what Landover said to Percival:

"Whatever may be in your mind, Percival, I want to say this to you. Iwas in Manuel Crust's cabin when the thing happened. There were eightof us there. I can point out to you the other six. I must beg you tooverlook the fact that we are not friends, and believe what I am saying. It is the absolute truth. "

"I will take your word for it, Mr. Landover, " said Percival, after amoment. "I am aware of your dealings with Crust and his crowd. I don'tknow what the game is, but I do know that you have been fosteringdiscontent, --it may even amount to revolt, --among; these men. If you sayyou were with Crust and that he was not out of your sight all evening, I will believe you. You may be a misguided, domineering fool, Mr. Landover, but you are honest. You have failed to appreciate what youwere stirring up, --what you were letting yourself and all the rest of usin for, that's all. "

Landover flushed. He compressed his lips for a second or two beforespeaking. 

"My opposition to you as a dictator, Percival, hardly warrants theimplication that I am in a sense responsible for the devilish thing thathappened last night. "

"I grant you that, " said Percival. "Nevertheless, it is your purpose todown me, no matter what it costs, --isn't that true?"

"No, it is not true. There is an honest, sincere belief on the part ofsome of us that you are not the man to rule this camp. You may call itpolitics, if you like, --or revolt, if you prefer. "

"We'll call it politics, Mr. Landover. It was not politics that made methe superintendent of construction here, however. I've looked after thejob to the best of my ability. I am ready to retire whenever the peopledecide they've found a better man. You may be right in supposing thatManuel Crust is the right man for the job, --but I don't agree with you. "

Landover started. "Nothing is farther from my thoughts than to turn theaffairs of this camp over to Crust, " he said. 

"Once more I agree with you. But that is what you will be doing, justthe same. If you think that Manuel Crust is going to play second fiddleto you, Mr. Landover, you'll suddenly wake up to find yourself mistaken. You know what Crust is advocating, don't you? Well, I guess there'snothing more to be said on the subject. "

"We will drop it, then, " said Landover curtly. "I merely want you tounderstand that Crust had no hand in last night's affair. I can vouchfor that. "

"Can you vouch for each and every member of his gang?"

"I know nothing about his gang, as you call it. If I am notmistaken, this fellow Mendez is one of your pet supporters. He may bedouble-crossing you. "

"We'll see. For the present, your friend Crust is safe. As long as helives within the law, he is all right. We're going to have law and orderhere, Mr. Landover. I want you to understand that. The best evidencethat most of us want law and order is the incredible manner in whichthese people have curbed their natural instincts. "

"No one wants law and order more than I, " said Landover. 

"And I suppose Manuel Crust is of the same mind, eh?"

"So far as I know, he is, " replied the other firmly. 

Percival looked at him in blank astonishment. "Well, I'm damned!" hesaid, after a moment. "Do you really believe that?"

"It does not follow that he is an advocate of lawlessness and disorderbecause he happens to be opposed to some of your pet schemes, does it, Mr. Percival?" inquired Landover ironically. 

"One of my pet schemes happens to conflict seriously with Manuel's petscheme, if that will strengthen your argument any, Mr. Landover. "

"I don't believe Crust ever had any such thought, " said the otherflatly. 

"We're not getting anywhere by arguing the point, " said Percival. Heturned to walk away. 

"Just a moment, " called out Landover, after the younger man had taken afew steps. "See here, Percival, I don't want you to misunderstand me. Ifthere is anything in this talk about Crust, --you know what I mean, --andif it should come to the point where stern measures are required, I willbe with you, heart and soul. You know that, don't you?"

Percival studied the banker's face for a moment. "I've never doubted itfor an instant, Landover. We may yet shake hands and be friends in spiteof ourselves. "

Landover turned on his heel and walked away, and Percival, with a shrugof his shoulders, set about making preparations to safe-guard SanchoMendez when he was brought in from the wood. He posted a number ofreliable, cool-headed men around the "meetinghouse, " many of them beingarmed. Arrangements were made for barricading the door and the fewwindows. The prisoner was to be confined in the building, a long, lowstructure, and there he was to tell his story and stand trial. There wasto be no delay in the matter of a trial. 

"You will sit as judge, Mike, " said the "boss, " addressing Malone. "There will not be any legal technicalities, old man, and there won't beany appeal, --so all you've got to do is to act like a judge and not likea lawyer. We've got to do this thing in the regular way. Try to forgetthat you have practiced in the New York City courts. Remember that thereis such a thing as justice and pay absolutely no attention to what youare in the habit of calling the law. The law is a beautiful thing if youdon't take it too seriously. Ninety-nine out of every hundred judges inthe courts of the U. S. A. Sit through a trial worrying their headsoff trying to remember the law so that they can keep out of the recordthings that might make them look like jackasses when the case is carriedup to a higher court, --and while they are thinking so hard about the lawthey forget all about the poor little trifle called justice. I guess youknow that as well as I do, so there's no use talking about it. "

"I guess I do, " said Michael Malone. "I live on technicalities when I'min New York. If it were not for technicalities, I'd starve to death. And, my God, man, if we had to stop and think about justice every timewe go into court, we'd be a disgrace to the profession. "

Percival, Peter Snipe, Flattner and several others strode out from themeeting-house and swept the long line of huts with serious, apprehensiveeyes. They had expected to find the people congregated at some nearbypoint, ready to swoop down upon the prisoner the instant he appearedwith his captors at the edge of the wood. To their amazement and relief, the people had taken Percival's command literally. They had retiredto their huts, and but few of them were to be seen, even on theirdoorsteps. 

"Can you beat it?" cried Snipe. "By golly, boys, they've put it squarelyup to us. It's the greatest exhibition of restraint and confidence I'veever known. This couldn't have happened at home. Hello!"

The gaze of all was centred upon two persons who walked rapidly in thedirection taken by Fitts and his party. No one spoke for a few seconds. Flattner, after a quick look at Percival's set, scowling face, was thefirst to speak. To a certain degree, he understood the situation. It wasout of pure consideration for his friend's feelings that he said:

"I'll go and head 'em off, A. A. "

"Thanks, old chap, --but there's no sense in getting yourself disliked. I'll do it. I'm in bad already, --and besides I'm the one who gave theorder. "

Near the end of the row of huts, he drew alongside of Ruth Clinton andLandover. 

"The order was meant for every one, Miss Clinton, " he said levelly. "AmI to understand that you have decided to ignore it?"

She stopped short and drew herself up haughtily. Their eyes met. Therewas defiance in hers. She did not speak. Landover confronted Percival, white with fury. 

"I am capable of looking after Miss Clinton, " he exclaimed. "Yourbeastly officiousness--"

"You will go back to your cabin at once, Miss Clinton, " said Percival, ignoring Landover. 

She did not move. 

"Miss Clinton came out here at my suggestion, " said Landover. "If youhave any more bullying to do, confine yourself to me, Percival. "

"I am not doing this because I enjoy it, Miss Clinton, " went on theyoung man, still looking into her unwavering eyes. "I am sorry it isnecessary to remind you that there are no privileged classes here. Youwill have to obey orders the same as every one else. "

"Very well, " she said, suddenly lowering her eyes. "Take me back to thecabin, Mr. Landover. There is nothing more to say. "

Percival stood aside. They walked past him without so much as a glanceat his set, unsmiling face. Landover slipped an arm through hers. Shedid not resist when he drew her up close to his side. Percival saw himlean over and speak to her after they had gone a few paces. His lipswere close to her ear, but though his voice was low and repressed, thewords were distinctly audible to the young man. 

"Ruth darling, I am sorry, --I can't tell you how sorry I am for havingsubjected you to this insult. God, if I could only help matters byresenting it, I--"

She broke in, her voice as clear as a bell. 

"Oh, if I were only a man, --if I were only a man!"

They were well out of hearing before Percival looked despairingly up atthe pink and grey sky and muttered with heartfelt earnestness:

"I wish to God you were. I'd like nothing better than to be soundlythreshed by you. "

CHAPTER IX. 

Just before sunset that evening, Sancho Mendez was publicly hanged. Confessing the crime, he was carried to the rude gibbet at the far edgeof the wheat field and paid the price in full. He had been tried by ajury of twelve; and there was absolutely no question as to his guilt. His companion, a lad named Dominic, callously betrayed by the older man, fled to the forest and it was not until the second day after thehanging that he was found by a party of man-hunters, half-starved andhalf-demented. He was hanged at sunrise on the following day. 

Manuel Crust considered himself glorified. After a fashion, he posedas a martyr. Some sort of cunning, as insidious as it was unexpected, caused him to assume an air of humility. He went about shaking his headsorrowfully, as if cut to the quick by the unjust suspicions that hadbeen heaped upon him by the ignorant, easily-persuaded populace. 

Sentiment began to swing toward him. He and his so-called followers werevindicated. It was his gloomy, dejected contention that if Providencehad not intervened he and his honest fellows undoubtedly would have beenplaced in the most direful position, so strong and so bitter wasthe prejudice that conspired against him. He was constantly thankingProvidence. And presently other people undertook to thank Providencetoo. They began to regard Manuel as a much-abused man. 

The burly "Portugee" haunted the cabin of Pedro the farmer. He was themost solicitous and the most active of all who strove to befriend andencourage the unhappy father, and no one was more devoted than he to theslowly-recovering girl. He carried flowers to Pedro's hut; he did manychores for Pedro's wife; he went out into the woods and killed theplumpest birds he could find and cooked them himself for Pedro'sdaughter. 

Presently he began to assert a more or less proprietary interest in thefamily. It was no uncommon thing for him to issue orders to the nurses;he hectored the Doctor; and on several occasions he went so far as tooffend such well-meaning ladies as Mrs. Spofford, Madame Careni-Amori, Mrs. Block and others when they appeared at Pedro's cabin withdelicacies for the girl. And finally the people in that end of the campbegan to speak of Manuel Crust as a good fellow and a gentleman!

On Easter Sunday he stood guard over Pedro's cabin while that worthy andhis family went to the "Tabernacle" to attend the special services. Twoof the nurses were inside with the girl, but outside sat Manuel, a grimwatch-dog that growled when any one approached. 

The horror of that black night and the days that witnessed the wipingout of Sancho Mendez and Dominic hung like a pall over the camp. Bothexecutions had been witnessed by practically all of the inhabitants. Captain Trigger came ashore. 

With set, relentless faces the people watched two men go to their doom. The women were as stony-faced, as repressed, as the men. Save for theinvoluntary groans, and the queer hissing sound of long-pent breath asthe black-capped figures swung off into space, the tremulous hush ofintense restraint rested upon the staring crowd. 

Twice they came out to see men they had known and respected "hanged bythe neck until dead, " and on neither occasion was there the slightestmanifestation of pity, nor was there a single word of gloating. Theywatched and then they went away, leaving the victims to be disposedof by the men selected for the purpose. No shouts, no execrations, nohysterical cries or sobs, --nothing save the grim silence of awe. Forthese people, even to the tiniest child, had ceased to live in the lightof other days. 

Peter Snipe, in his journal, wrote of that silent, subdued throng asother historians have written of the rock-hearted people of Salem, andof the soulful Puritans who grew heartless in the service of the Lord. 

They stood afar-off and watched the small detachment of sailors carrythe bodies down to the basin, and every one knew that Sancho Mendez andDominic, heavily weighted, were rowed out to the middle and dumped intoa bottomless grave. Some there were who declared that their bodies wouldsink for ages before reaching the bottom, --and no one thought of SanchoMendez and Dominic without picturing them as gliding deeper and deeperinto the endless abyss of water. 

Michael Malone's speech to the multitude on the shorn edge of the wheatfield was brief. He spoke from the scaffold on which Sancho Mendez, theblacksmith, sat with a noose around his neck. 

"This man has been fairly tried and he is being fairly punished. Thereis no way to circumvent the laws of God or the laws of man on thisisland, my friends. The guilty cannot escape. If we transgress the law, we must pay in proportion to our transgression. This man is to die. The laws of our homeland would not have demanded the life of such ashe, --but they should, my friends, they should. This island is small. It will be easy for us to keep it clean, --and we must keep it clean. We must not live in fear of each other. The lion and the lamb lie downtogether here; the thief and the honest man walk hand in hand. Our sinswill find us out. We cannot hide them. Remember that. In this littleland of ours there is nothing to stand in the way of the soundestprinciple ever laid down for man. 'Do unto others as ye would haveothers do unto you. ' That is the Golden Rule. All we have to do is toobserve that rule and there will be no use for the Ten Commandments, nor the laws of Moses, nor all the laws that man has made. We don't evenhave to be Christians. 'Do unto others as ye would have others dounto you. ' That, my friends, is the law of laws. It is the religion ofreligions. "

"Soapy" Shay, sitting before the fire in his cabin a few nights afterthe executions, held forth at some length and with peculiar emphasis onwhat he called an exploded theory. 

"As I said before, and as I've always said, --not being a drinking manmyself, --it's all bunk about booze being responsible for all the crimesthat are committed. Now here were these two guys, Sancho and Dominic. Look at what they did, --and they hadn't touched a drop for months. I'mnot saying that licker is a soothin' syrup for a man's morals, but whatI am saying is that if a feller has got it in him to be ornery, he'll beornery, drunk or sober. I was tellin' Parson Mackenzie only this morningthat him and me both have good reason for not touchin' the stuff, --fordifferent reasons, of course, --but I didn't see why other peopleoughtn't to have it if they want it. 

"With me, in my former profession, it would have been criminal to touchthe stuff. The worst crime a burglar can commit is to get drunk. Nodecent, bang-up burglar ever does it. I don't suppose there is a moreself-respectin' sort of man in the world than a high-grade burglar. Andit's the same with a preacher. He can't any more preach a good sermonwhen he is lit up than a burglar can crack a safe or jimmy a window ifhe tanks up beforehand. The parson seemed surprised when I put it rightup to him like that. He said he'd never thought of it in that lightbefore. Of course, says he, a minister of the gospel ain't even supposedto know what licker tastes like, and I says to him that's where we havethe advantage of him. We know what it tastes like, and we like it, and we leave it alone because it cramps our style. He leaves it alonebecause it's the style for preachers to leave it alone, and becausethey'd go to hell if they drank like ordinary men. The only place aburglar goes to if he boozes is jail. 

"Well, as I was sayin', this here Sancho wasn't soused when he committedthat crime, and it all goes to prove that these temperance cranks areoff their base. Most of the crime that's committed in this world iscommitted because the feller wants to commit it. When I was up in SingSing once, --sort of by accident, you might say, --there was a lot of talkabout prison reform, and pattin' the crooks on the back, and tellin'them they could be just as good as anybody else if they had a chance. The only chance them guys want, and keep lookin' for night and day, isa chance to lift something when nobody's lookin'. That's all they'rethinkin' about while they're in the pen, and God knows they're as soberas judges all the time they're there. Crime is crime and you can'talways lay it to booze. It's human nature with some people. I'm notsayin' the world wouldn't be better off if there wasn't any licker todrink. It stands to reason that there wouldn't be half so much bunglin'if people kept sober, 'specially when it comes to crime. Now, if thisguy Sancho had had a couple of pints in him, everybody would be goingaround preachin' about the horrible effects of booze, and--What say?"

"I said you make me tired, " said Buck Chizler, repeating his remark. "Inever did anything wrong in my life except when I was half-soused. "

"Sure, " agreed Soapy. "But you'd have done it right if you'd been sober, my boy. That's the principal trouble with booze. It never gives a feelera chance to do anything right. " Whereupon, with a slow wink for theother members of the group, he arose and passed out into the night. 

"I can't make that feller out, " grumbled Buck, uncomfortably. 

Easter Sunday was bright and clear, following a fortnight of cold, penetrating winds and rain. The sun smiled, but it was a cold smile thatmocked rather than cheered. The sky was the colour of thin, transparentice; the vast white dome was unspotted by a single cloud; the rose tintsof early morn, frightened away at birth by the chill, unfeeling glare, took with them every promise of tenderness that dawned with the new day. But, though the sky was hard, the air was soft; the tang of the salt-seaspice lay over everything. 

Percival had no active part in the exercises arranged by Ruth. The songservice was held in the open. A platform had been erected in frontof the "tabernacle" (the meeting-house on occasion) for the choir andmusicians. There were no seats for the congregation. Every one stood, bareheaded, in a wide semi-circle facing the platform. The "boss" tookhis place inconspicuously among those who formed the outer fringe of theassemblage. His gaze seldom left the face of the girl he loved. Once hereyes met his. She was on the platform discussing arrangements with thetwo clergymen when her roving, unsettled gaze chanced to fall upon him. For many seconds she stared at him fixedly, --so fixedly, in fact, thatFather Francisco, after a moment, shot a look in the same direction. Even from his far-off post, Percival saw the colour mount to her cheeksas she hastily turned away to resume the conversation that had been soincontinently broken off. She was bare-headed. He had been watching thesun at play among the coils of her soft, dark hair, --a glint here as ofbronze, a gleam there as of gold, ever changing under the caresses ofthat flaming lover a hundred million miles away. 

The affable Mr. Nicklestick was standing beside Percival, carrying on amore or less one-sided conversation. 

"You see, it's this way, " he was saying, contriving to reduce hisfar-reaching voice to a moderate undertone; "I'm not in the habit ofattending Easter services. I'm not opposed to them, believe me, A. A. , --not in the slightest. Now at home in New York, I make it a habit towalk from the Metropolitan Museum down to the Waldorf-Astoria regularlyevery Easter. Between eleven and twelve-thirty. You get them going intocertain churches and you get them coming out of others, don't you see?Oh, vat would I give to be on Fif' Avenue at this minute, A. A. !A hundred thousand dollars, --gladly, villingly, --yes, two hundredthousand! I vonder vat things are like on Fif Avenue now, --at thisminute, I mean. I vonder what the vimmin are wearing this season. MyGod, don't you vish you were on Fif Avenue, A. A. ?"

"What?"

"I say don't you vish you were on Fif Avenue now?"

"No, I don't, " gruffly. 

"You--you don't?" gasped Nicklestick. "My God, where do you wish youwere?"

"Over in France, --or better still, in Germany, --that's where I'd like tobe. Keep still! Can't you see Careni-Amori is singing?"

Nicklestick was silent for two minutes. Then he volunteered: "Do youknow what that song vould cost if she vas to give it in the MetropolitanOpera House, A. A. ? A thousand dollars, von thousand simoleons. Andwe get it for nothing. It ain't possible to realize that you can getsomething for nothing in these days, is it? I vas saying to Morrie Shineonly this morning that--"

"Sh!" hissed an exasperated Brazilian in front of them. 

"I guess we better not talk any more, A. A. , " said Nicklestick, deprecatingly. Presently he leaned close to Percival's ear andwhispered: "Miss Clinton is looking very fine today, isn't she?"Receiving no reply, he waited a moment and then went on: "Landover isa very lucky dog, eh?" Failing again, he was silent for some time. Hisnext effort was along a totally different line. "I've been feeling someof the people out in regard to the election next week. I think it'sa great idea. You got a cinch, A. A. Nobody vants anybody but you forgovernor. What seems to be--"

"Sh!"

"Oh, you go to the devil!" addressed the exasperated Mr. Nicklestickto the Brazilian. "Ain't we got freedom of speech here on this island?Veil, then! What seems to be troubling most every one, A. A. , is who isthe best man for clerk. Nobody vants to be treasurer, for why? Becausethere ain't anything to be treasurer about. Say, where are you going?"

"Nowhere, " replied Percival, as he strode away. 

Over against the line of trees on the opposite side of the wheat fieldstill loomed the gibbet from which Sancho Mendez and Dominic had steppedblindfolded into another and darker world. While Pastor Mackenzie, leading up to the glorious resurrection, was repeating the story of theCrucifixion, Ruth Clinton, sitting behind him on the platform, staredwide-eyed at this gaunt object, and she saw not Christ on the Cross butthe spectre of Sancho Mendez falling off into darkness. Percival's gazefollowed hers, and his heart smote him, --for it was he who had demandedthat the gruesome reminder be left standing as a warning to carrion. Andhe had laughed when Peter Snipe christened it "the scarecrow!"

"Leave it standing, A. A. , " Peter had said, "and you can bet your bootsno jailbird will ever roost on it if he thinks twice. And it's just thatsort of thing that makes a man think twice. "

But the look of dread in the eyes of this girl who could do no wrong, and yet was to be everlastingly tortured by the sight of the thing thatstood as a silent accuser of all who looked, was more than Percivalcould stand. Easter Sunday, --and that gibbet pointing its long armtoward the little flock in the shadow of sanctuary, --mocking the good asit beckoned to the bad, --Easter Sunday and that!

He stole quietly away, circling the edge of the crowd, his head bent, his teeth set. Just as he was about to pass from view around the cornerof the "tabernacle, " he cast a quick glance at the girl on the platform. Their eyes met again. She turned her head quickly, but he was certainthat she had followed his movements from the beginning. 

CHAPTER X. 

Toward the close of the exercises, the congregation was startled bythe sound of an ax smiting wood. The blows were rapid and vigorous. The surprised people looked at each other first in wonder and then inconsternation. Who was guilty of this unseemly sacrilege?

Finally those on the edge of the multitude discovered the wielder of theax. Some one, not easily recognizable, was chopping away the supports ofthe scaffold. The crowd grew restless; angry mutterings were to be heardon all sides. Every eye was turned from the platform to glare at thelone chopper across the fallow field. 

Madame Careni-Amori, who was about to begin her second song, lookedhelplessly at Ruth Clinton. 

Ruth had recognized the man at once. At first she was annoyed, thenthere surged over her a great, uplifting thrill of exaltation. Shestepped quickly to the front and, raising her clear young voice, reclaimed the wandering attention of the throng. 

"Please be quiet. Madame Careni-Amori is to sing for us once more. Mr. Percival is knocking down that horrible thing over there. It is rightthat he should. We do not need it there as a warning. Mr. Percival hashad a change of heart. He has been moved, --tremendously moved, --bywhat he has seen in your faces today. That is why he is over there nowhacking down that dreadful thing. It is the skeleton at our feast. Wewere conscious of its presence all the time. He is over there all byhimself cutting it down so that our hearts may be lighter, so that thisglad hour may end without its curse. Please remain where you are. Herequires no assistance. He prefers to do it all alone. And now, if youwill all give attention, Madame Careni-Amori will sing for us. "

Careni-Amori lifted up her glorious voice in song. The rhythmic beatof the ax went on unceasingly; the powerful arms and shoulders of thedestroyer were behind every frenzied blow. As the last notes of the songdied away, there came the sound of splintering wood, then a dull crash, and the gibbet lay flat upon the ground. Some one uttered an involuntaryshout. As Percival turned from his completed work and wiped the sweatfrom his brow with his bare forearm, he found the gaze of the entirecompany fastened upon him. Then there came to his ears the clapping ofhands, then the shrill clamour of voices raised in approbation. Swingingthe ax on high, he buried its blade deep in the fallen timber and leftit imbedded there. Snatching up his coat from a nearby stump, he wavedhis hand to the crowd and then, whirling, was quickly lost among thetrees that lined the shore. 

Landover walked beside the thoughtful Ruth as she crossed the Green onher way home. He studied her lovely profile out of the corner of hiseye. As they drew away from the dispersing throng, he spoke to her. 

"If money were of any value here in this Godforsaken spot, I would offerconsiderably more than a penny for your thoughts, Ruth. "

She started slightly. "You couldn't buy them, Mr. Landover. They are notfor sale at any price. "

"I suppose there is no harm in venturing a guess, however. You will giveme one guess, won't you?"

"All the guesses you like, --free of charge, " she rejoined airily. 

"You are trying to decide whether or not it was all done for effect. "

She smiled mysteriously, looking straight ahead. Her eyes were verybright. 

"You are wrong. I was thinking about hats, Mr. Landover. Don't you knowthat every woman's thoughts run to hats on Easter?"

"I confess I had a better opinion of him, " he said, disregarding herflippancy. "I don't like him, but I've never suspected him of being astupid ass before. "

"Of whom are you speaking?" she inquired, suddenly looking him full inthe eye. 

"Our mutual friend, the enemy, " he replied. 

"Mr. Percival?"

"Certainly. "

"But I thought he was beneath our notice. "

"We can't very well help noticing him when he goes to such extremelengths to attract attention. "

"You think he did it to attract attention?"

"Not so much that, perhaps, as to get back into the lime-light. Yousee, he was rather out of it for as much as half an hour, and he simplycouldn't stand it. So he went off and staged a little sideshow of hisown. "

She walked on in silence for a few moments, torn by doubts andmisgivings. Landover's sarcastic analysis was like a douche of coldwater. Perhaps he was right. It had been a spectacular, not to saydiverting, exhibition. Her eyes darkened. An expression of pain lurkedin them. 

"I can't believe it of him, Mr. Landover, " she said at last, in aslightly muffled voice. 

"I thought it was understood you were to call me Abel, my dear. "

"If he did it deliberately, --and with that motive, --it was unspeakable, "she went on, a faint furrow appearing between her eyes. 

"Of course, I may be wrong, " said he magnanimously. "It may have beenthe result of an honest, uncontrollable impulse. But I doubt it. "

"Men do queer, strange things when under the influence of a strongemotion, " she said, a hopeful note in her voice. 

"True. They are also capable of doing very base things. You don't for aninstant suspect Percival of being a religious fanatic, do you?"

"Please don't sneer. And what, pray, has religion to do with it?"

"I dare say Morris Shine is again lamenting the absence of a motionpicture camera. He is always complaining about the chances he has missedto--"

"Stop!"

"Why, Ruth dear, I--"

"We have no right to judge him, Mr. Landover. "

"Are you defending him?"

"I don't believe he had the faintest notion that he wasbeing--theatrical, as you call it. I am sure he did it because he wasmoved by an overpowering desire to make all of us happy. He couldn'tbear the thought of that evil thing out there, pointing at us while weworshipped and tried to sing with gladness in our hearts. No! He didit for you, and for me, and for all the rest of us, --and he made everyheart lighter when that thing toppled over and fell. Did you not seethe change that came over every one when they realized that it wasdestroyed? There were smiles on every face, and every voice wascheerful. The look of uneasy dread was gone--Oh, you must have seen. "

"I can only say that it ought to have been done before, Ruth, --notduring the exercises. "

"It was his way of publicly admitting he was wrong in insisting that itshould remain. "

"He had his way with that weak-kneed committee, as usual. The tacticsof that Copperhead Camp he talks so much about are hardly applicable toconditions here. We are not law-defying ruffians, you know, --and theseare women of quite another order. "

"No one, --not even you, Mr. Landover, --can say that he has beenanything but kind and considerate and sympathetic, " she flashed. "He isfirm, --but isn't that what we want? And the people worship him, --theywill do anything for him. Even Manuel Crust respects him, --and obeyshim. And you, down in your heart, respect him. He is your kind of a man, Mr. Landover. He does things. He is like Theodore Roosevelt. He doesthings. "

Landover smiled grimly. "Perhaps that is why I dislike him. "

"Because he is like Roosevelt?"

"My dear, let's not start an argument about Roosevelt. "

"Just the same, I've heard you say over and over again that you wishRoosevelt were President now, " she persisted. "Why do you say that ifyou are so down on him?"

Landover shrugged his shoulders expressively. 

"I can wish that, my dear, and still not be an admirer of Mr. Roosevelt, " he replied. "But to return to Percival, isn't it quite plainto you that he was pouting like a school-boy because he had not beenasked to take part in today's exercises?"

"He was asked to take part in them. I asked him myself. "

He glanced at her sharply. "You never told me you had asked him, Ruth. "

"The night the crime was committed, " she said briefly. "He was very niceabout it. He promised to sing in the choir and--and to help me withthe decorations. After our unpleasant experience the next day, he hadthe--shall we say tact or kindness?--to reconsider his promise. "

"Openly advertising the fact that he preferred to have no part in anyentertainment you were arranging, " was Landover's comment. "I don'tbelieve it was because of any particular delicacy of feeling on hispart, my dear. In any case, the fact remains that he let you go aheadwith the affair, and then, bang! right in the middle of it he stages hischeap, melodramatic, moving-picture act. Bosh!"

She turned on him with blazing eyes. 

"You will not see anything good in him, will you? You can't be fair, canyou? Well, I can be, --and I am. He has been fair with both of us, --andI am ashamed of the way I have treated him. We deserved his rebuke thatmorning, and he did not hesitate to turn us back, --although he realizedwhat it would mean. He loves me, Abel Landover, --he loves me a thousandtimes more than you do, in spite of all your protestations. He--"

"Why, Ruth, --I--I--"

"Yes, --I know, --I know you are shocked. And I don't care, --do youunderstand? I don't care that! You want your answer, Mr. Landover. Well, you shall have it now. I cannot marry you. This is final. "

The blood left his face. "You don't know what you are saying, Ruth, " heexclaimed. "You are angry. When you have had time to--"

"I've had all the time I need, " she interrupted shortly. "I don't wantto be disagreeable, --but it's no use, Mr. Landover. I do not love you. I am sorry if I have misled you into hoping. There is nothing more to besaid. "

"You have misled me, " he cried out bitterly. 

"I am to blame, I suppose, for not giving you your answer before this. Ihave temporized. It is a woman's trick, --and a horrid one, I'll admit. Ihave never even thought of marrying you. "

"Are you in love with Percival?" he demanded. 

"Yes, --I think I am, " she replied, looking him straight in the eye. Shespoke with a sort of gasp, as if releasing a confession that surprisedeven herself. 

"My God, Ruth, --I can't believe it, " he groaned. 

"I have denied it to myself--oh, a thousand times, --I've fought againstit. I've tried to hate him. I've done everything in my power to make himbelieve that I despise him. But it's no use, --it's no use. I--I can'tthink of anything else. I can't think of any one else. Oh, I know I amquite mad to say this, but I sometimes find myself praying that we maynever be rescued. It might mean--well, you can see what it might mean. Thank God, you have driven me to this confession. It is the first time Ihave been really honest with myself. I have lied to myself over and overagain about my feeling toward him. I have lain awake for hours at nightlying to myself--telling myself that I hate him and always will hatehim. Now, it's out, --the truth is out. I have never hated him, --I havecared for him from the very beginning. "

She spoke rapidly, the words rushing forth like a flood suddenlyreleased after breaking through the dam, sweeping everything beforeit, --resistless, devastating, cruelly rapturous. She thought nothing ofthe hurt she was inflicting upon the man beside her; he was an atom inthe path of the torrent, a thing that went down and was left behind asthe flood swept over and by him. As suddenly as it began the torrent waschecked. A hot flush seared her neck, her cheeks, her brow. 

"What a fool you must think me!" she cried in dire chagrin. "What astupid fool!"

He had not taken his eyes from her transfigured face. He had listenedwith his jaw set, his lips tightly pressed, his brow dark with anger. 

"I don't think that, " he said shortly. "You have merely lost your head, as any woman might, over a picturesque, good-looking soldier of fortune. Perhaps I should not be surprised, nor even shocked by what you've justtold me. He is the sort that women do fall in love with, --and I supposethey are not to be blamed for it. No, I do not think you are a fool. When one reflects that such experienced heads as those possessed bythe irreproachable Obosky, the immaculate Amori, --to say nothing of theestimable lady we are pleased to call the 'Empress of Brazil, '--whensuch heads as theirs are turned by a man it is high time to admit thathe has something more than personal magnetism. I am wondering how farthe contagion has really spread. There is a difference betweencontagion and infection, you know. Infection is the result ofpersonal contact, --contagion is something in the air. This epidemicof infatuation very plainly is in two forms. It appears to be bothinfectious and contagious. I rather fancy the amiable Obosky hasselected the former type of the prevailing malady. Percivalitis, Ibelieve, is the name it goes by. "

There was no mistaking the significance of his words. The implicationwas clear, even though veiled in the heaviest sarcasm. He had thesatisfaction of seeing the colour ebb from her cheek. Her face beingaverted, he missed the swift flicker of pain that rushed to her eyesand, departing, took away with it the soft light that had glowed in themthe instant before. He had touched a concealed canker, --the sensitivespot that had been the real cause of her sleepless, troublednights, --the thing she had refused in her pride to accept as the realsource of discomfort. 

Down in her soul lay the poison of jealousy, a cruel and malignantinfluence that until now had been subdued by a mind stubbornly unwillingto recognize its existence. 

In the eagerness to supply herself with additional reasons for hatingPercival, she had given her imagination a rather free rein in regard tohis relations with Olga Obosky. While she was without actual proof, shenevertheless tortured herself with suspicions that came almost tothe same thing; in any case, they had the desired effect in that theycreated a very positive sense of irritation, and nothing seemed toplease her more in the dead hour of night than the feeling that she hada right to be disgusted with him. 

And now, Landover, in his sly arraignment, prodded a very live, rawspot, and she knew that it was bleak unhappiness and not rancour thathad kept her awake. 

"Is it necessary to beat about the bush, Mr. Land-over? If you haveanything definite to tell me about Mr. Percival and Madame Obosky, I grant you permission to say all you have to say in the plainestlanguage. Call a spade a spade. I am quite old enough to hear thingscalled by their right names. "

"Since you have been so quick to get my meaning, I don't consider itnecessary to go into details. I daresay you have ears and eyes of yourown. You can see and hear as well as I, --unless you are resolved to beboth blind and deaf. "

"Did you not hear me say that I know he loves me?"

"Yes, --I heard you quite distinctly. "

"As a rule, do men love two women at the same time?" she inquired, patiently. 

"I have never said that he loves Obosky. It is barely possible, however, that he may not choose to resist her, --if that conveys anything to yourintelligence. "

"It does and it does not, " she replied steadily. "You see, I believe inhim. I trust him. "

"And I suppose you trust Olga Obosky, " he said, with a sneer. 

"I understand Olga Obosky far better than you do, Mr. Landover. "

"I doubt it, " said he drily. 

"She is my friend. "

"Ah! That measurably simplifies the situation. She will no doubt proveher friendship by delivering Mr. Percival to you, slightly damaged butguaranteed to--"

"Please be good enough to remember, Mr. Land-over, that you are notspeaking to Manuel Crust, " she exclaimed haughtily, and, with flamingcheeks, swept past him. 

He hesitated a moment, and then started to follow her. She stopped shortand, facing him, cried out: "Don't follow me! I do not want to hearanother word. Stop! I can see by your eyes that you are ashamed, --youwant to apologize. I do not want to hear it. I am hurt, --terribly hurt. Nothing you can say will help matters now, Mr. Landover. "

"Just a second, Ruth, " he cried, now thoroughly dismayed. "Give me achance to explain. It was my mad, unreasoning love that--"

But, with an exclamation of sheer disgust, she put her fingers to herears and sped rapidly down the walk. He stood still, watching her untilshe entered the cabin door and closed it behind her. Then he completedthe broken sentence, but not in the voice of humility nor with the wordsthat he had intended to utter. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Shay, coming up the walk, distinctly heard what he said. 

"What's the matter, Bill?" he inquired, pausing. "Did she throw thehooks into you?"

Landover glared at him balefully. "You go to hell, damn you, " hesnarled, and walked away. 

"Soapy" rubbed his chin dubiously as he watched the retreating figure. Pursing his thin lips, he turned his attention to an unoffending stumpsix or eight feet away and scowled at it vindictively. He was turningsomething over in his mind, and he was manifestly in a state ofindecision. Ruminating, he spoke aloud, perhaps for the benefit of aPortuguese farm-hand who happened to be approaching from the oppositedirection, but who still had some rods to cover before he was withinhearing distance. 

"Gee, he's getting to be as decent and democratic as any of us. Showswhat association will do for a man. Two months ago he would have beentoo high and mighty to tell me to go to hell. If he keeps on at thisrate, he'll be worth payin' attention to in a couple of months more. Won't he, Bill?" This to the farmhand, who obligingly halted. 

Mr. Shay made constant and impartial use of the name Bill. Except in avery few instances, he applied it to all males over the age of two, and he did it so genially that resentment was rare. Americans, Britons, Irishmen, Portuguese, Spaniards, Indians, Swedes, --all races, in fact, except the Hebrew, --came under the sweeping appellation. His Hebrewacquaintances were addressed by the name of Ike. 

It so happened that this particular "Bill" was lamentably slow inpicking up the English language. It was even said that he prided himselfon being halfwitted. However, being an exceedingly dull creature, he wasquite naturally a polite one. He was a good listener. You could speakEnglish to him by the hour and never be annoyed by verbal interruptions. At regular intervals he would insert a shrug of the shoulders, or nodhis head, or lift an eye-brow, or spread out his hands, or purse hislips, --and he never smiled unless you did. 

Perceiving that some sort of an answer was expected, "Bill"wisely shrugged his shoulders. "Soapy" interpreted the shrug asaffirmative, --having a distinct advantage over "Bill, " who hadn't thefaintest idea which it was, --and proceeded to go a little deeper intothe matter. 

"Now, as I was saying, this Landover guy is up against something, Bill. She handed him something he didn't like. Right on the nose, too, if I'many judge. What do you suppose it was, Bill?"

"Bill" nodded his head very earnestly. 

"That's what I think, " said "Soapy, " fixing his hearer with a moody, speculative frown. "Now, I know something about this Landover guy thatshe don't know. I suppose A. A. Will give me an awful panning if I upand tell her what I saw that day. He seems to think it's a secret. "

There was a slight pause, suggesting to "Bill" that he ought to frown asif also in doubt. 

"At the same time, I think she ought to be told, don't you, Bill?"

This called for something definite. So Bill scratched his left ear. 

"In the first place, she's too nice a girl to be hitched up with aPriscilla like him. Now, I don't know what happened here a couple ofminutes ago, but it looks to me as if she needs a little moral support. It strikes me that this would be a good time to tell her. What do youthink about it, Bill?"

Always on the lookout for rising inflections, "Bill" was ever in aposition to give prompt replies. He could dispose of the most profoundquestions almost before they were out of the speaker's mouth. His answerto "Soapy's" query was a broad grin, --for he had detected a sly twinklein the speaker's eye. He also shrugged his shoulders and spread out hishands, --and, to clinch the matter, he winked. 

"Now, I don't want to take this important step without being backed-upby some clever, intelligent feller like you, Bill, " went on "Soapy. ""It's all for her good, --and A. A. 's, too, although he won't see it inthat light. If you say you think she ought to be told, that's enough forme. If you say she oughtn't, --why, nothing doing. It's up to you, Bill. "

"Bill" was plainly at sea. You can't decide a question that lacks aninterrogation point. So all that "Bill" could do was to stare blanklyat "Soapy" and wait for something tangible to turn up. Mr. Shay suddenlyappreciated the poor fellow's dilemma and supplied the necessary relief. 

"What say, Bill?"

Whereupon "Bill" started to shake his head, but, catching the scowl ofdisapproval on "Soapy's" brow, hastily changed his reply to a vigorousnod. 

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Shay. "That completely clears my conscience. Solong, Bill. "

And half a minute later he presented himself at Ruth Clinton's cabin. 

"Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Spofford, as she opened the door. She alsoopened her eyes very wide, and sent a startled, apprehensive glance overher shoulder into the warm, fire-lit interior. "What do you want?" shedemanded querulously of the unexpected visitor. 

Mr. Shay took off his hat. "I'd like a few words with Miss Clinton, " hesaid. "I saw her come in, so she's not out. It's important, ma'am. Shewill hear something to her advantage, as they say in the personals. "

"Will you please return at three o'clock, Mr. Shay? My niece is restingafter the arduous labours of the--"

"I dassent wait, " said "Soapy, " with a furtive glance over his shoulder. "If he sees me, I'll probably have to change my mind. "

"Who is it, Auntie?" called out a clear voice from within. 

"'Soapy' Shay, " replied the visitor himself. 

"Mr. Landover will be here presently, Mr. Shay, --" began the obstacle inthe doorway. 

"I guess not, " broke in "Soapy, " forgetting himself so far as to wink. "I expect you haven't heard the news, ma'am. He's had his nose put outof joint. "

"Good heavens! His nose out of--"

"Come in, Soapy, " cried Ruth. 

"Ruth, my dear, --do you know who--do you know what--"

"Sure she knows, " again interrupted "Soapy, " unembarrassed. "I'm notafter anybody's jewels, Mrs. Spofford, --and besides which I am theprincipal candidate for Sheriff of this bailiwick. You don't supposea man who's running for the office of sheriff on Mr. A. A. Percival'sticket is going to lift anything before election, do you? Besides whichI've made up my mind to be straight as long as I'm on this island, andif I'm elected, --which I will be, --I'm going to see that nobody elsedoes anything crooked. Mr. A. A. Percival is a wise guy, --a mighty wiseguy. Says he to me, 'Soapy, you are one of the most expert--'"

"Come inside, Soapy, " called out Ruth. 

Mr. Shay entered. "You better shut the door, Mrs. Spofford, " he saidcoolly. "What I got to say is private. As I was saying, A. A. Says tome, 'Soapy, you are one of the craftiest and slipperiest crooks on thisside of the Atlantic Ocean. What you don't know about crime would filla book about as thick as a postage stamp. There's nobody on this islandmore fittin' to be an officer of the law. You know everything that anofficer of the law ought to know, and besides which you know everythingthat a thief has to know. So you're going to be elected Sheriff ofTrigger Island. ' That's what A. A. Says to me, and, as usual, he's deadright. Why, ma'am, there ain't a thief in the universe that can fool me. I don't have to have any evidence, --not a grain of it. All I got to dois to just ask 'em why they done it. But what I dropped in to see youabout, Miss Ruth, is--Say, you ain't by any chance expecting A. A. Todrop in, are you? I wouldn't have him ketch me here for--"

"I am not expecting Mr. Percival, Soapy, " she said, her gaze fixedexpectantly on the man's face. 

"Well, then, " said he, "I got a little story to tell you. It's thegospel truth. Just try to forget that I used to be a crook and thatin ordinary times I am one of the most gosh-awful liars on earth. Butthere's absolutely no pleasure in lying nowadays, and as for working atmy regular trade, Mrs. Spofford, you needn't be the least bit nervous. It ain't necessary for you to set on that trunk. Take this chair, please. Now, you remember some time back that A. A. And your friendLandover had a mix-up in the last named gentleman's stateroom, and youalso must remember that Mr. Landover told you about it and that Mr. Percival never told you anything about it. Well, I was a witness tothat fracas. I just happened to be walking along the deck when somethingcaught my eye and I went up close to see what it was. You'd never guesswhat it was. After looking at it very carefully I discovered it was aport-hole. "

Forsaking his whimsical manner, he related tersely in as few words aspossible the story of the encounter. 

"Now, it's my guess that Mr. Abel Landover didn't speak the whole truthand nothing but the truth when he furnished you with his version of theaffair. Am I right, or am I wrong?" he asked, in conclusion. 

"I prefer to believe Mr. Landover's story, " said Mrs. Spofford stiffly. "Will you be good enough to go now, Mr. Shay?"

"Sure, " said "Soapy, " rising. "I'm not asking anybody to take my wordagainst his. I'm just telling you, that's all. Good afternoon, ladies. "

"It was not Mr. Percival who fired the shot? You are sure of that, Soapy?" Ruth was standing now. Her eyes were very dark and tempestuous. 

"Sure as my right name ain't Soapy Shay, " returned the witness, holdingup his right hand. 

"Ruth, it isn't possible that you place any credence in--"

"Thank you for coming, Soapy, " interrupted Ruth. "It was very good ofyou. "

"Soapy" lingered at the door, fumbling his dilapidated hat. Mrs. Spofford was staring speechlessly at her niece. 

"I'd a little sooner you wouldn't say anything to A. A. About mepeaching on him, " said "Soapy, " somewhat nervously. 

"I shall not 'peach' on you, Soapy, " said the girl, a joyous smilesuddenly illuminating her face. 

"Soapy" went out. As he closed the door, he said to himself: "Next timeyou tell me to go to hell, Abe Landover, I guess you'd better furnish aguide that knows the way. "

As soon as the door was closed, Mrs. Spofford turned upon her radiantniece. 

"You are not such a fool as to believe that rascal's story, Ruth?"

"I believe every word of it!" cried the girl. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Sailors, sniffing the gale that night, shook their heads and saidthere was snow on the tail of it. Morning found the ground mottled withsplashes of white and a fine, frost-like sleet blowing fitfully acrossthe plain. The ridge of trees over against the shore became vague andshapeless beneath the filmy veil, while the sea out beyond the breakerswas clothed in a grey shroud, bleak and impenetrable. 

Knapendyke was positive and reassuring in his contention that no greatamount of snow ever fell upon the island. While much of the vegetationwas of a character indigenous to the temperate zone, there was, hepointed out, another type peculiar to tropical climates, --and althoughthe latter was of a singularly hardy nature, it was not calculated tosurvive the rigours of a harsh, protracted winter. 

"We'll have spells like this, off and on, just as they occasionally doin Florida or Southern California, is the way I figure it out, " he saidto the group of uneasy men who contemplated the embryonic blizzard withalarm and misgiving. "Moreover, I believe the wet, cold season is ashort one here. The birds are content to stick it out. The fact there isno migration is proof enough for me that the winter is never severe. As the weather prognosticators say, look out for squalls, unsettledweather, frost tonight, rising temperature tomorrow, rain the nextday, doctors' bills the end of the month. Avoid crowded street-cars, passenger elevators and places of amusement. Take plenty of out-doorexercise and don't eat too many strawberries. "

Children, on their way to school in the town hall, shouted with gleeas they romped in the snow-laden gale. It had no terrors for them. Theywere not concerned with the dour prospect that brought anxiety to thehearts of their elders. 

"It's fine to be a kid, " said Percival, watching the antics of a crowdof boys. "Why do we have to grow up?"

"So that we can appreciate what it was to be a kid, " said RandolphFitts. 

Ruth Clinton was one of the teachers. There were, all told, about thirtychildren in the school, their ages ranging from five to fourteen. Mostof them were youngsters from the steerage, bright-eyed little Latins whohad picked up with lively avidity no small store of English. They werebeing taught in English. 

The council, spurred by the far-seeing Percival, recognized the perilsof a period of inactivity following the harvest and the flailingdays. The majority of the men and women would be comparatively idle. Preparations for the building of a small ship occupied the time andinterest of a few engineers and ship-carpenters, but as some weeks werebound to pass before the work could be begun in earnest, an interim ofimpatience would have to be bridged. Work, and plenty of it, was theonly prescription for despair. 

Already symptoms of increasing moodiness marked the mien of the lessresourceful among the castaways. While it was not generally known, twomen had attempted suicide, and one of the Brazilian ladies, --a beautifulyoung married woman, --was in a pitiful state of collapse. She hada husband and two small children in Rio Janeiro. The separation wasdriving her mad. There were others, --both men and women, --whose mindswere never free from the thought of loved ones far across the watersand whose hearts ached with a great pain that could not be subdued byphilosophy, but they were strong and they were cheerful. In their soulsburnt an unquenchable fire, the fire of hope; they stirred it night andday with the song of the unvanquished. 

Improvements in the hastily constructed cabins provided not onlyoccupation but interest for the able-bodied men and women. There was nolittle rivalry in the matter of interior embellishments; those skilledin the use of implements took great pride in hewing out and addingmore or less elaborate ornamentation to the facades of theirhabitations, --such as casements, door-posts and capitals, awnings, porches, and so forth. A shell road was in process of constructionfrom one end of the village to the other, while over in Dismal Forestwoodsmen were even now cutting down the towering Norfolk pines andhewing out the staunch timbers for the ship that was to sail out one dayin quest of the world they had left behind them. But these enterprisesprovided work for men only. The women, in the main, were withoutoccupation. With the approach of winter the men in active control of thecamp's affairs realized that something would have to be done to relievethe strain, --at least, to lighten it until spring came to the rescuewith toil in the fields and gardens. 

A system of exchange was being worked out. As has been mentioned beforein this chronicle, the people of the steerage were the plutocrats. Theirhoardings represented real money, the savings of years. When it came toan actual "show-down, "--to use Percival's expression, --these peoplewho were poor in the accepted sense, now were rich. They could "buy andsell" the "plutocrats" of another day and another world. 

The theory that one good turn deserves another was an insufficientfoundation upon which to construct a substantial system of exchange. It is all very well to talk about brotherly love, said Percival. Thetrouble is that certain brothers are for ever imposing upon otherbrothers, and the good turn does not always find its recompense. Socialism, he argued, is a fine thing until you discover that you arenot alone in the world. Brotherly love began with Cain and Abel, andsocialism is best exemplified by a parlour aquarium. Nothing happens todisturb the serene existence of the goldfish until somebody forgets tofeed them, and then they begin nibbling at each other. 

"You mend my fence, I'll mend yours, " is an ideal arrangement until youfind it is "our fence" and doesn't need mending. 

To Landover, Block and other financial experts was delegated the powerand authority to perfect a fair, impartial monetary system. First ofall, they arbitrarily declared the dollar, the peso and the shilling tobe without value. "Time" script was to be issued by the governing board, and as this substitute would automatically become useless on the day thecastaways, were discovered and taken off the island, no citizen was tobe allowed to reduce or dissipate his hoard of real money. 

Landover's proposal that a central depository be established for thepurpose of holding and safe-guarding the possessions of each and everyperson was primarily intended to prevent the surreptitious use of realmoney. This project met with almost universal opposition. The "rich"preferred to hang onto their money, thereby running true to form. Whileprofessing the utmost confidence in the present integrity of the bankerand his friends they ingenuously wanted to know what chance they wouldhave of getting their money back when these masters of finance wereready to leave the island! So they elected to hide their gold and silverwhere it would be safe from unscrupulous financiers! And nothing couldshake them in this resolve. 

"Time" was the basic principle on which the value of the script was tobe determined, and as "time, " in this instance, meant hours and nothingelse, a citizen's income depended entirely on his readiness to work. Tenhours represented a full day's work. The hand-press on board the Dorainewas used to print the "hours, " as the little slips made from thestock of menu card-board were called. They were divided into fivedenominations, viz. : One Hour, Three Hours, Five Hours, Seven Hours andTen Hours. Each of these checks bore the signature of Abel T. Landoverand a seal devised by Peter Snipe, who besides being an author wassomething of a draughtsman, --indeed, his enemies said he was a farbetter artist than he was an author, which annoyed him tremendously inview of the fact that he had stopped drawing when he was fifteen becauseeminent cartoonists and illustrators had told him he had no talent atall. The printing and stamping was done on board the Doraine and thescript was shortly to be put into circulation. Landover was slated tobecome treasurer of Trigger Island at the general election. 

As an illustration, this sort of dialogue was soon to become more orless common:

"What's the price of this hat, Madame Obosky?"

"Twenty-seven hours, Mrs. Block. "

Or:

"Gimme an hour's worth of 'smoke, ' Andy, " meaning, of course, thesubstitute for tobacco. 

Or:

"You blamed robber, what do you mean charging six hours for half-solingthem shoes? If you was any good, you could ha' done it in half thetime. "

Every individual in camp over the age of thirteen was obliged to have anoccupation. To a certain extent, this occupation was selective, but inthe main it was to be determined by a board whose business it was to seethat the man-power was directed to the best advantage for all concerned. A camp tax was ordered. At the end of the week, every citizen wasrequired to pay into the common treasury two "hours. " He could not"work out" this tax. It had to be paid in "cash. " Out of the taxes soreceived, the school, the church, the "hospital" and the "government"were to be supported. 

The "governor" of Trigger Island and the humblest workingman were toreceive exactly the same pay: "hour" for hour. Thirty thousand "hours"represented the total issue, or, approximately fifty units for eachindividual over the age of thirteen. 

As no man's hours was worth more than another's, and as everytransaction was to be based on time, rather than on money, there was nosmall likelihood that any one man or group of men could ever obtain acommanding grip on the finances of the Island. 

And so it came to pass that all manner of enterprises sprang intoexistence. Competition was not allowed. There could be but one millineryshop, one dress-making establishment, one shoe and sandal factory, andso on. Everything was conducted on a strictly cash basis; there were no"charge accounts. "

Olga Obosky, as the proprietress of the millinery shop, earned no morethan any one of her half-dozen assistants, --and they were all paid bythe "government. " The same could be said of Madame Careni-Amori, whoconducted a school of music, and the great Joseppi who graciously, --evengladly, --went into the tailoring business. Andrew Mott, one time FirstOfficer on the Doraine, opened a "smoke" store and dispensed curedweed that Flattner authorized him to call "tobacco. " The austere Mrs. Spofford decided to open a dress-making shop!

It was all very simple, this man-to-man system of traffic, but no onetook it lightly or in the spirit of jest. They were serious, they weresober-minded. Interest, incentive, grim determination centred in theseemingly childish arrangement. Greed was lacking, for there was nochance to hoard; confidence was paramount, for there was no chance tolose. 

The "hours" travelled in a circle, from the "government" to people, frompeople to "government"; when all was said and done, it was the productof soil and sea that formed the backbone of the system. 

With the adoption of the plan, it was to become a punishableoffence, --indeed, it was to be classified as treason, --for any residentof Trigger Island to "forage" for necessities. He could do what hepleased in respect to the non-essentials, but when it came to foodstuffsof any kind or description, he was guilty of a felony if he failed toturn all that he produced or secured into the general stores. 

"Strikes me, " said Randolph Fitts in council meet-ing, "that we arearriving at the most exquisite state of socialism. This comes prettyclose to being the essence of that historic American dream, 'of thepeople, by the people, for the people. ' Up to date, that has been therarest socialistic doctrine ever promulgated, but we are going it a longsight better. 'From the people, by the people, to the people. ' What doyou call that but socialism?"

"Are you speaking to me?" demanded Percival. 

"In a general way, yes. "

"Well, it's not my idea of socialism. So far as I've been able todiscover, socialism is a game in which you are supposed to takesomething out of your pocket and put it into the other fellow's whetherhe wants it or not. This scheme of ours is quite another thing. We'renot planning to split even on what we've got in our pockets so much aswe're planning to divide what we've got in our hands, and there's a lotof difference between a hand and a pocket, old top. You can see what'sin one and you can't see what's in the other. And, by the way, Fitts, if we let the socialists in this camp suspect that we're trying tointroduce socialism here, there'll be a revolution before you can sayJack Robinson. They won't stand for it. They'd let out the blamedestroar on record if they thought we were trying to deprive them of theright to feel sorry for themselves. "

Ruth hurried over to the town-hall bright and early on this snowy, gustymorning. The forenoon session of the school began punctually at 8:30o'clock. She was there half an hour ahead of time to see that therewas a roaring fire in the huge fire-place, and that the benches forthe scholars were drawn up close to it. There were two teachers besidesherself, --and both of them were experienced "school marms. " She taughtthe "infant class, " comprising about a dozen tots. The three teacherstook turns about in building the fires, arranging the benches andcleaning the crude blackboard. 

There had been church-services the night before, and the bencheswere all in use, arranged so that they faced the combinationpulpit-rostrum-stage at the far end of the room. Tonight there was to bea general committee meeting to discuss the prospective financial schemeand the general election that was to take place the following week. 

The structure was not blessed with a paucity of names. If there wasto be a council-meeting or a camp assembly, it was called the"Meeting-house. " On Sundays it became the "tabernacle. " Week-days itwas known as the "schoolhouse, " and at odd times it was spoken of as the"theatre, " the "concert-hall, " and the "Trigger Island court-house. "In one corner stood the grand piano from the Doraine, regularly andlaboriously tuned by the great Joseppi. Madame Careni-Amori gave vocaland instrumental lessons here every afternoon in the week, from threeto six. Among the older children there were a number who had voices thatseemed worth developing, and the famous soprano put her heart and soulinto the bewildering task of stuffing the rudiments of music down theirthroats. 

Ruth stopped just inside the door and looked about her in astonishment. The benches had been drawn up in an orderly semi-circle about thefire-place. Beyond them she observed the figure of a man kneeling beforethe fire, using a bellows with great effect. The big logs were snapping, and cracking, and spitting before the furious blasts. 

She closed the door and started across the room in his direction. Suddenly she recognized the broad back and the familiar but veryunseasonable panama hat. Panic seized her. She turned quickly, bent onmaking her escape. Her heart was beating like a triphammer, --she feltstrangely weak in the knees. As abruptly, she checked the impulse toflee. Why should she run away, now that the moment she had wished for soardently the night before was at hand? Chance had answered her call withamazing swiftness. She was alone with him, --she could go to him and layher weapons at his feet and say, --as she had said a hundred times in thenight, --"I can fight no more. I am beaten. "

But now that the time had come for bravery, she found herself sorelyafraid. A chill swept through her, --a weakening chill that took awayher strength and left her trembling from head to foot. The crisis wasat hand, --the great, surpassing crisis. She found herself hazily, tremulously wondering what the next minute in her life would be like?What would be said in it, what would happen to her? Would she be in hisarms, would his lips be upon hers, --all in the minute to come? Was thewhole of her life to be altered in the brief space of a minute's time?

A warm glow suddenly drove off the chill. It came with the realizationthat he was building the fire for her, --that his thoughts wereof her, --that he had stolen into the building to make it warm andcomfortable long before she was due to arrive, --and that he would stealaway again as soon as the "chores" were done. 

He arose to his feet and stood over the fire for a moment or two, watching its lively progress. Apparently satisfied with his efforts, heturned and started toward the door. She was standing in his path, a shy, wavering smile on her lips. 

He halted, and after an instant's hesitation, stammered:

"I--I never dreamed you'd be around so early. I thought I'd run in as Iwas passing and build a fire for--for the kiddies. Get the place warmedup a bit before--"

"Will you let me say something, Mr. Percival?" she broke in, hurryingthe words. 

He fumbled for his hat. "I am sorry if you are annoyed, Miss Clinton. Please believe me when I tell you I hoped to get out before you came. Icame early so that you would not find me--"

"You are not letting me say what I want to say. "

She came toward him, her hand extended. "Oh, I don't want to thank youfor lighting the fire and putting the room in order. I want to tell youthat I surrender. "

"Surrender?" he exclaimed, staring. 

"I cannot fight you any longer, " she said breathlessly. 

He looked dumbly first at her hand and then into her eyes. She was anarm's length away. 

"Fight me?" he mumbled, uncomprehending. 

"You--you said we could not be friends. I knew what you meant. If--ifyou love me, --oh, if you do love me, we need not be friends. But I knowyou love me. If I did not know it I could not have come to you like thisand--"

"Do I love you?" he cried out. "My God, I--I worship you. "

She held out both arms to him. "Then, we will try no more to befriends, " she murmured very softly. "Here are my arms. I surrender. "

A long time after he said to her as they sat before the jubilant, applauding fire, --the only witness to their ecstasy:

"Now I understand why we have never really been friends. It wasn't whatGod intended. Even in the beginning we were not friends. We thought wewere, --but we weren't. We were lovers, Ruth, --from the start. "

"I tried very hard to hate you, " she sighed, drawing a little closerin the crook of his encircled arm. "How wonderful it all is, --howwonderful!"

"I never believed it could come true. I hoped, God, how I hoped, --butit didn't seem possible that this could ever happen. I've wanted to holdyou in my arms, to kiss your dear lips, to kiss your eyes, to touchyour hair, to press you tight against my heart. And here I am awake, notdreaming, not longing, --and I have done all these things. Lord! I wonderif I can possibly be dreaming all this for the thousandth time. "

"I was thinking of you when I came into this room, --not ten minutesago, --and suddenly I saw you. I was terrified. I knew then that mydreams were coming true, --I knew it, and I don't know why I did not runaway. Any self-respecting, modest girl would have done so. But what didI do? I, a supposedly sensible, well-brought-up--"

"You caught me trying to run away, " he broke in. "I give you my word, my heart was in my throat all the time I was working over thatfire, --scared stiff with the fear that you would come in and bayonet mewith one of those icicle looks of yours. And see what really happened!"

They were silent for some time, staring into the fire. Suddenly his armtightened; he drew a sharp breath. She looked up quickly. 

"Why are you frowning?"

"I was just thinking, " he replied after a moment's hesitation. 

He gave a queer little jerk of his head, as if casting off somethingthat bothered him. Into his paradise had slipped the memory of a nightnot long since when he held the yielding, responsive form of anotherwoman in his arms, and felt the thrill of an ignoble passion surgingthrough his veins. The kiss of the sensualist had burned on his lips fordays; even to this hour it had clung to them; he was never free fromthe fire it had started in his imagination. And always on Olga's red, alluring lips lurked the reminder that she had not forgotten; in hereyes lay the light of expectancy. 

"Of whom?" asked Ruth, not coyly, but with a directness that startledhim. She seemed to have divined that his thoughts were not of her inthat brief, flitting instant. 

"Of myself, " he answered, quite truthfully. 

She laid her hand on his. "I forbid you to think of any one but me, " shesaid. 

He was silent for a moment. "I shall never think of any one but you, Ruth Clinton, " he said earnestly. "You have nothing to fear. "

"I believe you, " she said, and pressed his hand tightly. After a slightpause, she went on, looking straight into his eyes: "I might have lostyou, dear, --and I could have blamed no one but myself. She--she is veryalluring. "

He shook his head. "I've always been of the opinion that Samson's hairneeded trimming. His mother probably brought him up with Fauntleroycurls, poor chap. If he'd had his hair cut regularly, he wouldn't havelooked such an ass when Delilah got through with him. "

"I don't quite follow the parable. "

"In other words, it's what a man's got in his head and not so much whathe's got on it that makes him strong, " he explained, still more or lesscryptically. 

"I am beginning to see. You made good use of what you have in your head, is that it?"

"I made use of what you put into it a good many months ago, dear heart. You have been in my head and in my heart all these months, and so it wasyou who made me strong. Without you in there, I might have been asweak as Samson was before he had his hair cut. No sensible man blamesDelilah. In fact, men are rather strong for her. When you stop to thinkhow long old Samson got away with it, and what a shock it must have beento her after she trimmed him and found there wasn't anything left tospeak of, you've just got to feel sorry for her. She took one good lookat his head and understood why he let his hair grow. He was like thefellow who wears long whiskers to develop his chin. If Samson hadhad room enough in his head for a thought of anything except himself, Delilah wouldn't have been able to catch him napping. "

She could not help laughing. "You take a most original way of evadingthe point. Still, I am satisfied. You did not have room in your headfor any one else but me, --and that's all there is to it. I can't helpfeeling tremendously complimented, however. She is quite capable ofturning any man's head. "

"She plays fair, Ruth, " he said seriously. "She keeps the danger signalup all the time. That's more than you can say for most women. "

"Yes, " said she; "she plays fair. She is a strange woman. She has givenme a lot of advice, --and I am just beginning to take it. "

"If I had believed what she told me three months ago, " said he, "thisglorious hour would have been advanced just that length of time. "

Ruth stiffened. "What did she tell you?"

"She told me I was a fool and a coward; that all I had to do was to walkup to you and say 'Here, I want you, ' and that would have been theend of my suspense. She told me something I didn't know and couldn'tbelieve. "

"Indeed! I like her impudence! She--"

"She told me you were as much in love with me as I was with you. Honest, --was she right?"

Ruth sighed. "I suppose she was right. "

"And would you have come to me if I had said 'I want you '?"

"If you had said it as you say it now, I--listen! Good gracious! Thereare the children!"

She sprang to her feet, blushing furiously. The door opened andthree small children were fairly blown into the room, --three swarthy, black-eyed urchins who stared in some doubt at the "boss" and the adored"teacher. "

"Good morning, children, " she cried out jerkily, and then glanced ateach of the windows in quick succession. "You don't suppose, --" shebegan under her breath, turning to Percival with a distressed look inher eyes. 

"I wouldn't put it above 'em, " said he, cheerfully. 

"We should have thought of the windows. "

"Thank God, we didn't, " he cried. 

He went out into the storm with the song of the lark in his heart. 

"God, what a beautiful place the world is!" he was saying to himself, and all the while the sleet was stinging his radiant face with therelentlessness of angry bees. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

As he swung jauntily down the road in the direction of his "office, "all the world might have seen that it was a beautiful place for him. Hepassed children hurrying to school, and shouted envious "hurry-ups" tothem. Men and women, going about the morning's business, felt better forthe cheery greetings he gave them. Even Manuel Crust, pushing a crudebarrow laden with fire-wood, paused to look after the strutting figure, resuming his progress with an annoyed scowl on his brow, for he hadbeen guilty of a pleasant response to Percival's genial "good-morning. "Manuel went his way wondering what the devil had got into both of them. 

Olga Obosky was peering from a window as he passed her hut. He wavedhis hand at her, --and then shook his head. He had passed her threedancing-girls some distance down the road, romping like children in thesnow. 

Buck Chizler was waiting for him outside the "office. " The little jockeyhad something on his mind, --something that caused him to grin sheepishlyand at the same time look furtively over his shoulder. 

"Can I see you for a coupla minutes, A. A. ?" he inquired, following theother to the door. 

"Certainly, Buck, --as many minutes as you like. "

Buck discovered Randolph Fitts and Michael Malone seated before thefire. He drew back. 

"I'd like to see you outside, " he said nervously. 

"Well, what is it?" asked Percival, stepping outside and closing thedoor. 

Buck led him around the corner of the hut. 

"It ain't so windy here, " he explained. "Awful weather, ain't it?"

"What's troubling you, Buck? Put on your cap, you idiot. You'll takecold. "

"Plumb nervousness, " said Buck. "Same as if I was pulling up to thestart with fifty thousand on the nag. I want to ask your advice, A. A. Just a little private matter. Oh, nothing serious. Nothing like that, you know. I just thought maybe you'd--Gosh, I never saw it snow likethis up home, did you? Funny, too, when you think how tropical we oughtto be. There was a bad blizzard a coupla years ago in Buenos Aires, but--"

"Come to the point, Buck. What's up?"

Buck lowered his voice. "Well, you see it's this way. I'm thinkingof getting married. Tomorrow, if possible. Don't laugh! I don't seeanything to laugh at in--"

"I beg your pardon, old chap. I couldn't help laughing. It's because I'mhappy. Don't mind me. Go ahead. You're thinking of getting married, eh?Well, what's to prevent?"

"Do you approve of it? That's what I want to know. "

"Sure. Of course, I approve of it. "

"I just thought I'd make sure. You see, nobody's ever got married herebefore, and I didn't know what you'd think of me--er--sort of breakingthe ice, don't you see. "

"She's finally said 'yes, ' has she? Good girl! Congratulations, oldchap, --thousands of 'em'--millions. "

"Well, that takes some of the load off my mind, " said Buck, as theyshook hands. "Now, there's one or two things more. First, she says shewon't come and live in a hut where five men besides myself are bunking. I don't blame her, do you? Second, she says if we ever get rescued fromthis island, she won't let me go to the war, --not a step, she swears. I put up a holler right away. I says to her I was on my way to the warbefore I ever met her, and then she says I ain't got anything on her. She was going over to nurse. But she says if she gets married she'sgoing to claim exemption, or whatever they call it, and she says I gotto do the same, --'cause we'll both have dependents then. Then I says thechances are the war's over by this time anyhow, and she says a fellerin the Argentine told her on his word of honour it wouldn't be over forfive years or more. But that's a minor point. What's rusting me is this:how am I going to get rid of them five guys in my cabin?"

"Have you told them you're going to be married?"

"Oh, hell, they're the ones that told me. "

"It's pretty rough weather to turn men out into the cold, unfeelingworld, Buck. "

Buck scratched his ear in deep perplexity. "Well, it's got me guessing. "He slumped into an attitude of profound dejection. "What we'd ought tohave done, A. A. , was to build a hotel or something like that. If we hada hotel here, there'd be so blamed many weddings you couldn't keep trackof 'em. That's the only thing that's holding people back. Why, halfthe unmarried fellers here are thinking about getting married. They'rethinking, and thinking, and thinking, morning, noon and night. Andthey've got the girls thinking, too, --and most of the widders and oldmaids besides. I don't see how a smart feller like you, A. A. , happenedto overlook the possibility of just this kind of thing happening. "

"Good Lord, what have I got to do with it?"

"Why, darn it all, you'd ought to have put up a few huts with 'For Rent'signs on 'em, or else--"

"By George, Buck! I've got it, " cried Percival excitedly. "Have youthought of a wedding journey?"

"A what?"

"Wedding trip, --honeymoon. "

"Well, we might walk up and down the main street here a coupla times, "said Buck sarcastically. "Or take a stroll along the beach or somethinglike that. "

"What's the matter with a nice long sea voyage?"

"Say, I'm not kidding about this thing, " exclaimed Mr. Chizler, bristling. "I'm in dead earnest. "

"Has it occured to you that the Doraine is lying out there in theharbour--Here! Look out! I don't like being hugged by--"

"My gosh, A. A! Oh, my gosh!" barked the ecstatic bridegroom-apparent. "How did you happen to think of such a beautiful, wonderful--"

"How did I happen to think of it?" shouted Percival, just asecstatically. "Why, darn your eyes, why shouldn't I think of it? Why didold Noah think of the Ark? Why, I ask you?"

"He didn't, " said Buck succinctly. "The feller that wrote the Biblethought of it. "

"What time is it? Oh, Lord, nearly three hours yet before school isout. "

"Say, are you off your base, --lemme smell your breath. You actlike--Wait a second! There's something else I want to speak to youabout. Is it--is it all right for me to get married? She says I'll haveto get your O. K. Before she'll move an inch. She says nobody can doanything around here without you say so. So I--"

"You tell her I give my consent gladly, Buck, my boy. Give her a goodkiss for me, and say I'll speak to Captain Trigger this afternoon aboutpassage on the Doraine. By George, I--I think I'll go and speak to himabout it now. "

"Much obliged, boss. By gosh, you are a brick. There ain't anything youwon't do for a friend, is there?"

Percival blushed and stammered. "I--I've got to see him anyhow, Buck, --so don't thank me. By the way, while I'm about it, I supposeI might as well speak to Parson Mackenzie, eh? Or is it to be FatherFrancisco? And that reminds me, I'll have to see Malone and find outabout the legality, --got to have the law on our side, you see, Buck. Something in the form of a license, --United States of America and allthat, --and also see about fixing up desirable quarters on board theDoraine. I may have to transfer quite a lot of--er--furniture and soforth from my hut to the ship, and--"

"Gee whiz, A. A. , you mustn't go to so blamed much trouble for me, "gasped the delighted Buck. 

"Eh? What? Oh, the devil take you! Beat it now. I'm going to be mightybusy this morning. "

"I'll do as much for you, A. A. , if you ever get married, " cried Buck, once more wringing the other's hand. Then he was off up the road like aschoolboy. 

Shortly before the noon recess, Percival returned from the Doraine. Bythis time, the news had spread through the camp that there was to be awedding. Every one he met hailed him with the excited question:

"Say, have you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"There's going to be a wedding. "

"Good Lord!" said Percival to himself. "They must have been peepingthrough those windows after all. "

Finding that he had ten minutes to spare before school was out, hedecided to call upon Mrs. Spofford. That lady received him with icypoliteness. 

"I have been expecting you, " she said. "Your friend Mr. Shay honoured uswith a visit yesterday. My niece is at the school. Will you sit down andwait for her, or--"

"I beg your pardon. What was that you said about Shay?"

"I said he came to see us. "

Percival stared, "He did?"

"Please sit down, Mr. Percival. Do not ask me to tell you anything moreabout Mr. Shay, " she went on hurriedly, and in some confusion. "I don'tbelieve he would like it, --and as he is a dangerous character, I beg ofyou not to--"

"If Soapy Shay dared to intrude--"

"I implore you, do not think anything more about it. He was mostcourteous and polite and all that. "

He remained standing, his gaze fixed upon her face. Somehow, he guessedthe nature of Soapy's visit. 

"I suppose he came as a tale-bearer. "

"I must decline to discuss the matter, Mr. Percival. "

"Mrs. Spofford, " he began, with all the dignity of a courtier, "I havecome to request the hand of your niece in marriage. I have loved herfrom the very--"

"Oh, God!" groaned the trembling lady. "It has come at last! It hascome, --just as I feared. For pity's sake, Mr. Percival, spare her! Sheis--"

"I beg your pardon, " he broke in, flushing. "I think you misunderstandme. I am asking your consent to marry her. I believe it is stillcustomary among gentlemen to consult the--"

"Permit me to interrupt you, Mr. Percival, " said she, regaining hercomposure and her austerity. "What you ask is quite impossible. My nieceis, --ah, --I may say tentatively engaged. I am sorry for you. Perhaps itwould be just as well if you did not wait for her to come in. She willbe--"

"Mrs. Spofford, I am obliged to confess to you that I have alreadyspoken to Miss Clinton, and I may add that she is not tentativelyengaged. She has promised to be my wife. "

She drew back as if struck. She was silent for many seconds. 

"It would appear that my consent is not necessary, Mr. Percival, " shesaid at last, "Why do you come to me?"

"Because, while you may not suspect it, I was born a gentleman, " said hestiffly. 

She received this with a slight nod of the head and no more. 

"My niece, no doubt in her excitement, has neglected to ask you one ortwo very important questions, " she said levelly. "First of all, have youany means of convincing us that you do not already possess a wife?"

He started. "You are right, " he said. "That is an important question, and she has not asked it. I have no means of convincing you that I havenever been married, Mrs. Spofford. My word of honour is the only thing Ican offer. "

She regarded him narrowly. "Do you consider that sufficient, Mr. Percival?"

"I do, " said he simply. She waited for him to go on, and was distinctlyimpressed by his failure to do so. So far as he was concerned, there wasnothing more to be added. 

"How are we to know what your past life contains? You may have left yourhomeland in disgrace, you may even have been a fugitive from justice. Wehave no means of knowing. You were a stowaway on board the Doraine. Thatmuch, at least, we do know. We know nothing more. You are smart, youare clever. Surely you must see yourself that under other circumstances, under normal conditions, my niece would not have condescended to noticeyou, Mr. Percival. We are on an undiscovered island, remote from theenvironment, the society, the--"

"Permit me to remind you, Mrs. Spofford, " he interrupted, a triflecoldly, "that you just remarked that you know nothing whatever about me. Isn't it barely possible that my life may contain something desirable inthe shape of family, position and environment?"

"I recall that Mr. Gray did speak of knowing the Percival family. Myniece never allows me to forget it. "

"Mr. Gray did not know my family. He knew of my family, Mrs. Spofford, if that conveys anything to you. Not that they would not have been proudto have known him, for he was a gentleman. As for my own case, I canonly say that I am not a fugitive from justice, nor have I done anythingmore disgraceful than the average young man who has been through collegeand who, ignoring the counsel of his father, proceeds to find out forhimself the same things that his father had found out a great many yearsbefore, --and his father before him, and so on back to the beginning ofman. My great-great-grandfather on my mother's side was a comparativelyrecent settler in America. He didn't come over from Scotland until about1750. My father's people came over in the days of Lord Baltimore. Mostof my remote ancestors were very wicked men. You will find that one ofthem was executed in the Tower of London the same week that Lady JaneGrey went to her death, and another was openly in love with MistressNell Gwyn, thereby falling into disgrace with a monarch named Charles. Iadmit that I come of very bad stock. "

A fleeting twinkle lurked in her eyes. 

"You are very adroit, Mr. Percival. "

"Which is as much as to say that I have an agreeable and interesting wayof lying. Is that what you wish to imply, Mrs. Spofford?"

"Not at all. I say you are adroit because you place me in anembarrassing position. If I believe your confession that you come ofbad stock, I must also believe that you come of an exceedingly goodold Maryland family. " He bowed very low. "My niece, Mr. Percival, is anorphan. I am and have been her protector since she was fourteen yearsof age. She is the possessor of a large fortune in her own right. Herfather, --who was my brother, --gave her into my care when he was on hisdeath-bed. I leave you to surmise just what were his dying words to me. She was his idol. I have not failed him in any respect. You ask me togive my consent to your marriage. I cannot do so. No doubt you will bemarried, just as you have planned. She loves you. I have known it formonths. I have seen this day and hour coming, --yes, I have seen it evenmore clearly than she, for while she struggled desperately to deceiveherself she has never been able to deceive me. You are a strong, attractive man. The glamour of mystery rests upon you. You have doneprodigious deeds here, Mr. Percival. All of this I recognize, and Ishould be unfair to my own sense of honour were I to deny you my respectand gratitude. I must be fair. Fear has been the cause of my attitudetoward you, --not fear of you, sir, but fear for my niece. Now I amconfronted by the inevitable. The thing I have tried so hard to avoidhas come to pass. In these circumstances, I am forced to confess thatI have not been without a real, true admiration for you. I admit thatI have felt a great security with you in command of our camp. But, evenso, you are not the man I would have chosen to be Ruth's husband. Thetime is surely coming when we will be delivered from this island prison, when we will return to the life and the people and the conditions weknew before catastrophe made a new world for us. I am thinking of thattime, Mr. Percival, and not of the present. I fear my niece is thinkingonly of the present and not of the future. "

He had listened with grave deference. "Forgive me if I appearimpertinent, Mrs. Spofford, but is it not, after all, the past you arethinking about?"

She did not answer at once. His question had startled her. 

"Youth does not live in the past, " he went on quietly. "It deals onlywith the present. I love Ruth Clinton, --I love her with the cleanestlove a man can feel for a woman. It will not alter when we leave thisisland. If we are fated to spend the rest of our lives here, it willendure to the end. "

"You are speaking for yourself, " she said. "Can you speak for Ruth?"

"No, I cannot, " he admitted. "Nor can you, " he added boldly. "That iswhat I meant when I asked if you were not thinking chiefly of the past. I cannot say that Ruth will love me always, but I can say this: sheloves me now, as I love her, and in her heart she has said just what Isaid to you a moment ago, --that her love will endure. "

"I daresay I do think more of the past than of the present, Mr. Percival. You are right about the future. It is a blank page, to beglorified or soiled by what is set down upon it. Fate has thrown youtwo together. Perhaps it was so written in the past that you despise. A single turn of the mysterious wheel of fortune brought you into herlife. Half a turn, --the matter of minutes, --and you would never haveseen each other, and you would have gone your separate ways to the endof time without even knowing that the other existed. No doubt you bothcontend that you cannot live without each other. It is the usual wail oflovers. But are you quite as certain in your minds that you would haveperished if you had never seen each other?"

The note of irony did not escape him. He smiled. "In that case, Mrs. Spofford, we should not have existed at all. "

She shook her head despairingly. "You are too clever for me, " she said. "I warn you, however, that I shall do everything in my power to persuadeRuth to reconsider her promise to you. "

"Nothing could be fairer than that, " said he, without rancor. "If shecomes to me this afternoon and says she has changed her mind and cannotmarry me, I shall not ask her again. Will you be kind enough, Mrs. Spofford, to include that in your argument? It may spare her a lot ofworry and anxiety. "

He bowed ceremoniously and took his departure. She went to the windowand, drawing aside the curtain, watched him until he disappeared downthe road. Then, as the curtain fell into place, she said to herself:

"Their children will be strong and beautiful. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

A fortnight later, Ruth and Percival were married. He was now governorof Trigger Island. 

The ceremony took place at noon on the Green in front of the GovernmentBuilding, --(an imposing name added to the already extensive list bywhich the "meeting-house" was known), --and was attended by the wholepopulation of the island. His desire for a simple wedding had beenvigorously, almost violently opposed by the people. Led by RandolphFitts and the eloquent Malone, they demanded the pomp and ceremony of astate wedding. As governor of Trigger Island, they clamoured, it was hisduty to be married in the presence of a multitude! A general holiday wasdeclared, a great "barbecue" was arranged--(minus the roasted ox), --andwhen it was all over, the joyous throng escorted the governor and hislady to the gaily decorated "barge" that was to transport them from thelanding to the Doraine. 

Olga Obosky made the bride's bonnet and veil, and draped the latter onthe morning of the wedding day. Like the fabled merchants of the ArabianNights she appeared to the bride-elect and displayed her wares. From thedepths of her theatre trunks she produced a bewildering assortment oflaces, chiffon, silks, and the filmiest of gauzes. 

"You must not be afraid zat they will contaminate you, " she explained, noting the look of dismay in Ruth's eyes. "Zey have never adorned mybody, zey have never been expose to the speculating eye of the public, zey have not hid from view these charms of mine. No, these are fairand virtuous fabrics. It is you who will be the first to wear them, myfriend. Take your choice. See! Zis piece, is it not wonderful? It comesfrom Buda Pesth. One day it would perhaps have caressed my flesh in theDance of the Sultan's Dream, --but, alas, --zat is not to be. Feel, myfriend, --take it in your hand. See? You could hide it in the palm of oneof them, --and presto! Throw it outspread, --and it is like a blanket ofmist filling the room. It is priceless. It is unobtainable. None exceptObosky can afford to dance in such imperial stuff as this. Take it, --itis yours. It is my pleasure that you should have it. Better far itshould be your bridal veil than to drape these abandoned legs of mine. "

And so it was that the scant costume of the Sultan's Dream became thebridal veil of the governor's lady. 

If Olga Obosky was sore at heart, she gave no sign. On the contrary, she revealed the sprightliest interest in the coming nuptials. Percivalhimself had told her the news within the hour after his interview withMrs. Spofford. In his blind happiness, he had failed to notice themomentary stiffening of her body as if resisting a shock; he did not seethe hurt, baffled look that darkened her eyes for a few seconds, andthe swiftly passing pallor that stole into her face and vanished almostinstantly. He saw only the challenging smile that followed close uponthese fleeting signs, and the mocking gleam in her eyes. 

"So?" she had said. "So the citadel is yours, my friend. Hail to thechief! I salute you. But consider, O conqueror, what it is you areabout to do. You are setting a woeful example. There will be a stampede, a panic. People will trample each other under foot in ze mad rushfor captivity. The wedding bell will crack under ze strain of so muchringing. Everybody will be getting married, now zat they find it is soeasy and so simple. I congratulate you, my friend. You have been veryslow, --I have said she was yours for the asking, you will remember. Sheis good, she is beautiful, she is pure gold, my friend. I am her friend. Do not ever forget, my Percivail, I am her friend. "

He flushed warmly. He could not misinterpret her meaning. She spokeslowly, deliberately. It was renunciation on her part. 

"I understand, Olga, " he said. 

She smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Oh, but you do not understand!" she cried. "You are so very muchperplexed. It is enough for me that you are perplexed. I am content. Iam the puzzle you will never solve. So! La la! You will never cease towonder. Look!"

She pointed her finger at a man who was crossing the Green below them. 

"I am a puzzle to zat man also. He thought that he understood. "

"Landover? What do you mean?"

A spasm of fury transformed her features. She hissed out the words:

"I did spit in his face last night, --zat is all. "

The thirteenth of April, 1918, came on Saturday. Defying superstition, Ruth selected it as her wedding day. It was a bright, warm autumn day, bestowed by a gallant sun, and there was great rejoicing over thisevidence of God's approval. It came as a winter's whim, for that nightthe skies were black and thunderous; the winds roared savagely betweenthe lofty walls of Split Mountain and whined across the decks of theslanting Doraine, snug in the little basin, while out on the boundlessdeep the turmoil of hell was raging. 

And so began the honeymoon of the stowaway and the lady fair, even asthe "voyage" of the jockey and his bride had begun a fortnight before. They sat at the Captain's table in the ghostly, dismantled saloon. Abovethem hung two brightly burnished lanterns, shedding a mellow light uponthe festal board. Outside, the whistling wind, the swish of the darkenedwaters, the rattle of davits and the creak of the straining timbers. 

Up from his place at the head of the table rose the gray and gallantskipper. 

"Up, gentlemen, " said he, his face aglow. "I give you the health, thehappiness and the never diminishing glory of the governor's lady. "

"May she never be less, " added the gaunt First Officer, who spent hisdays ashore watching the growth of a new Doraine and his nights on boardwith the failing master of the older one. 

And in the rare old port from the Captain's locker they pledged theradiant bride. 

"A long voyage and a merry one!" cried Mr. Codge, the purser, as hedrained his goblet dry. 

Mr. Furman Nicholas Chizler bowed very gravely to the lady on theCaptain's right, and then to the one at his left. 

"What care we which way we sail so long as the wind's behind us?" quothhe. 

BOOK THREE

CHAPTER I. 

In the far-off Northland it is winter again, --the winter of 1919-20. Trigger Island is bright and clean with the furbishings of summer. Itis January, --January without its coat of white, --January as green as thetender gourd. 

There are a dozen graves or more on Cape Sunrise; Betty Cruise no longerlies alone out on the windswept point. Crudely chiseled on the roughheadstones are names that have not been mentioned in this chronicle, still not the less enduring. One name is there, however, chipped in agreat black slab from the face of Split Mountain, that will neverbe forgotten as long as Trigger Island exists: it is that of CaptainWeatherby Trigger. 

The master of the Doraine died aboard-ship in the second winter. Afterhis death the ship was abandoned. Mr. Codge and the half-dozen oldmariners who had made their home in the dismal hulk came ashore. 

Grim and ugly and as silent as the grave, save for the winds that moanthrough her portholes and corridors, she lies rusting in sun and storm, a gloomy presence that fills the soul with awe. Even the birds of theair shun her barren decks; less fastidious bats have taken up theirabode in the heart of her, and spiders great and small are at work on asickly shroud. 

Twenty months have passed. Christmas and New Year's day have twice beencelebrated and another Easter Sunday has found its way into the faithfuljournal of Peter Snipe, and with them two amazing Fourths of July whenthere was coasting on the long slopes and winter sports on the plains. There has been one bountiful harvest and seed has been sown for yetanother. The full length of the sunny plain is under cultivation. Thebins in the granaries are well-filled with the treasures of the soil;the gardens have increased and flourished; the warehouse is stackedwith fresh and dried fruits, vegetables, honey, and row upon row ofpreserves! Great earthen jars, modeled with all the severity of theprimitive cave-dweller, serve as receptacles. The grist-mill on LeapFrog River is busy from dawn till dusk; the forge rings with the musicof hammer and anvil; a saw-mill in the heart of Dismal Forest hums itswhining tune all day long. A noisy, determined engine, fashioned bymechanics out of material taken from the engine and boiler room of theDoraine provides the motive power for the saws and the means to produceponderous, far-reaching blasts on the transferred "fog-horn. "

New and more commodious huts have gone up, roads have been blazedthrough the forests, a logging ferry plies between the opposite shoresof Mott Haven, and a ship is on the ways above the landing "stage. "

At the top of Split Mountain stands a lofty wireless tower. For monthsit has been spitting vain messages to the four winds. Out of the greatsilences at rare intervals come faint flickers of radio calls, jumbled, indistinct, undecipherable, --but, for all that, definite pulse beats ofa far-off life. 

Trigger Island went mad with joy when the first of these aerialmutterings was reported down from the mountain-top. "Only a questionof time now, " they cried in their delirium. But weeks went by beforeanother sound was heard. Now the report of feeble, long-separatedmanifestations, like vague spirit-rappings, no longer caused excitementor enthusiasm, --only a rueful shaking of heads. 

Lieutenant Platt's station at the top of the mountain is a rude, elementary affair, notwithstanding the many weary, puzzling, disheartening months spent in its construction. The damaged, almostuseless dynamo from the Doraine had to be repaired and conveyed to thecrest of the eminence; what seemed to be fruitless ages were consumedin devising an engine with power sufficient to produce even the feebleresults that followed. And when the task of installing the plant wascompleted, the effective radius was far short of a hundred miles. Constant efforts were being made to develop greater sending power, butthe means at hand were inadequate, the material unobtainable. 

The firing of the Doraine's gun had long since been discontinued. Thesupply of shells being greatly reduced, Lieutenant Platt decided towaste no more of them, but to wait for some visible evidence that avessel was within signalling distance: a shadowy plume of smoke onthe far horizon or the white tip of a sail peeping over the rim of theworld. 

Frugality is the watchword. The days of plenty are sternly guarded sothat their substance may not be squandered; always there is the thoughtof the lean year that may come, the year when the harvests fail andfamine stalks naked through the land. 

The first law, therefore, is thrift. Not thrift in its common, acceptedsense, based on the self-denial of the individual, but a systematicshoulder-to-shoulder stand for the general welfare of the community. There is no such thing as waste on Trigger Island. The grim spectre ofwant and privation treads softly behind every mortal there, and there isnone who treats its invisible presence with disdain. Even the wood-ashesfrom stoves and fireplaces are carefully hoarded in hoppers, for thealkaline solution obtained by treating them with water is lye. This lyeis being used chiefly in the production of a soap not unlike that madeby thrifty farmers' wives in the Argentine, experimentation withthe pulpy fruit of a tree belonging to the variety known as Sapindusmarginatus bringing about rather astonishing results. 

For many months of the year the people wear sandals on their bare feet. Only those who toil in the forests don the uncouth boots turned outby the firm of cobblers known as Block & Nicklestick. Shoes, bootsand slippers of another day are zealously guarded by their owners, inanticipation of still another day, --the day of deliverance. "Waste not, want not, " is the motto of Trigger Island. 

The second winter brought a double catastrophe, and for days thereafterdeepest gloom prevailed. Even the stout-hearted Percival drooped underthe weight of it. 

Fire wiped out the work of months in the space of a few bleak, bitterhours. The sturdy little ship that was so well along toward completionwas destroyed. 

Months of faithful, patient, dogged toil had resulted in theconstruction of a stout hull which stood proudly on the ways tobe admired and glorified by the eager, confident supporters of thedetermined little band of builders. Six weeks more would have seen thevessel off the ways and floating gaily on the surface of the snug littlebasin, ready for the final touches, the provisioning and the ultimatedeparture of the hardy company that was to take her out into the openstretches in quest of the helping hand. For weeks a devoted, one-mindedcommunity had been preparing food, raiment and comforts for the men whowere to go forth in the new Doraine. The masts and spars were in place, the forecastle and cabin were almost ready for occupancy, the galley wasnearing completion, --and then came swift, relentless disaster. 

The night was cold and windy. Down at the water's edge, almost under thebulging side of the ship, two men had their quarters at one end of thelow, rambling carpenter shop. At the other end was located the forge. The very thing they were there to guard against happened on thismiserable night. Fire broke out in the forge. 

The man on watch had fallen asleep. His name was Smiley. It is mentionedhere for the only time in this narrative. 

Shortly before midnight, his companion was awakened by the smell ofsmoke. He scrambled out of his blankets on the floor, --and cursed theman who still slept in his chair beside the smoke-befogged lantern onthe end of a carpenter's bench. Flames were creeping along the woodenpartition separating the forge from the shop. Half a mile away threehundred men were sleeping, --but half a mile is half a mile. Before thewatchmen could sound the alarm, after their first courageous effortsto subdue the blaze, the building was a roaring mass of flames and agleeful wind had carried tongues of fire to the side of the vessel wherethey licked shapeless black patterns at first and then swiftly turnedthem to red. 

Stark-eyed, shivering people stood far back among the trees throughoutthe rest of the night and watched the work of months go up in flame andsmoke. Nothing could be done to save the ship. Hewn from the hardiesttrees in the forest, caulked and fortified to defy the most violentassaults of water, she was like paper in the clutch of flames. In thegrey of early morn the stricken people slunk back to their cabins andgave up hope. For not only was their ship destroyed but the pricelesstools and implements with which she had been built were gone as well. Itwas the double catastrophe that took the life, the spirit, out of them. 

And while the day was still breaking, the man who had slept at his post, stole off into the forest and cut his throat from ear to ear. 

But now, months afterward, another ship is on the ways. Indomitable, undaunted, the builders rose above disaster and set to work again. New tools were fashioned from steel and iron and wood, --saws, chisels, sledges, planes and hammers--in fact, everything except the bafflingaugurs. Resolute, unbeaten hands toiled anew, and this time the humblecraft was not to be given a luckless name. 

Superstition was rife. All save Andrew Mott saw ill-omen in the name"Doraine. " Steadfastly he maintained that as the Doraine had broughtthem safely to the island, guided by a divine Providence, a Dorainecould be trusted to take them as miraculously away. And as for changingthe name of his prattling ward, he fairly roared his objection; thoughan uncommonly mild man for a sailor, he uttered such blasphemous thingsto a group of well-meaning women that even Sheriff Soapy Shay wasaghast. 

After the dreary period that followed the disaster, there came a sharpawakening as from a dream filled with horrors. Something lying dormantin the com-mon breast had stirred. It was the unbeaten spirit that wouldnot die. These men and women lifted up their heads and beheld the starof hope undimmed. In a flash, the aspect changed. 

"We must start all over again, " was the cry that awoke them, and fromthat time on there was no such word as fail in the lexicon of TriggerIsland. 

Slowly, laboriously out of the ashes rose a new hull, a stauncher onethan its ill-fated predecessor. The year wasted in the building of thefirst ship was lamented but not mourned. Cheerfulness, even optimism, prevailed throughout the village. No man, no woman lifted the voiceof complaint. Resignation took the form of stoicism. A sort of doggedtaciturnity was measurably relieved by the never-failing spirit ofcamaraderie. There was even a touch of bravado in the attitude of thesepeople toward each other, --as of courage kept up by scoffing. EvenDeath, on his sombre visits, was regarded with a strange derision bythose who continued to spin. They had cheated him not once but manytimes, and they mocked him in their souls. 

"I'm not afraid of Death, " was Buck Chizler's contribution. "I've justdiscovered that Death is the rottenest coward in the world. He eitherwaits till you get too blamed old to fight, or else he jumps on you whenyou ain't looking, or when you're so weak from sickness you don't carewhat happens. I used to be afraid of Death. And why? Because I wasn'tonto the old bum; Why, look at what he does. He jumps onto weeny littlebabies and feeble old women and--and horses. Now, I'm onto him, and Iain't got any use for a cheap sport, --not me. "

The little community had taken to religion. As is invariably the case, adversity seeks surcease in some form of piety. Men who had not entereda church since the days of their childhood, men who had scoffed at thesentimentality of religion, now found consolation in the thing they hadonce despised. They were abashed and bewildered at first, as one afteranother they fell into the habit of attending services. They weresurprised to find something that they needed, something that made lifesimpler and gentler for them, something uplifting. 

"We're a queer mess of Puritans, " reflected Randolph Fitts. "You knowthat parrot of old Bob Carr's? Well, he took it out and wrung its necklast night, --after all the time, and trouble, and patience he spent ingiving her a swell private education. There never was a bird that couldswear so copiously as that bird of Bob's. He taught her every thingshe knew. He worked day and night to provide her with an up-to-datevocabulary. He used to lie awake nights thinking up new words for oldPolly to conquer. Now he says the blamed old rip was deceiving him allthe time. She began springing expletives on him that he'd never heardof before in all his forty years before the mast. She first began usingthem a couple of months ago when he undertook to reform her. Hestarted in to teach her to say 'good gracious' and 'goodness me' and'hoity-toity' and all such stuff, and she cursed so loud and so longthat he had to throw a bucket of water on her. 

"Every time he came home from church, that redheaded harridan would openup on him with such a string of vituperation that he had to hold hisears so's not to forget himself and backslide. Well, it got so that Bobcouldn't live with her any longer. She simply wouldn't puritanize. Thenearest he ever got her to saying 'good' was when she said it with onlyone 'o, ' and then as prefix to 'dammit. ' So he decided the only way toreform her was to murder her. She managed to nip a piece out of his handwhile he was doing it, however, and he's had the hump all day because hefell from grace and said something he'd oughtn't to. Yes, sir; we're aqueer mess of Puritans. Look at us. Catholics, Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, Jews, infidels, Theosophists, --even ChristianScientists, --all rolled up into one big bundle labeled: 'Handle withPrayer. ' We know nearly all the Ten Commandments by heart, and theBeatitudes flow from us in torrents. My wife was saying only the othernight that if Sheriff Shay didn't arrest that bird for using profanelanguage, she'd start a petition to have--Hello, Soapy! I didn't knowyou were present. "

"What was she going to do?" demanded the Sheriff of Trigger Island. 

"There's no use telling you now. It's too late. Polly has gone to aplace I don't dare mention, so what's the use talking about it?"

"I can't go 'round pinchin' fallen parrots, " growled Soapy. "Besides, I'm the feller that learned her most of the cuss-words old Bob neverheard before. I never saw a bird that was so anxious to improve. Sheused to set there with her ear cocked, just simply crazy to learnsomething new. Every time she'd see me coming she'd begin to hop up anddown on her perch and call me names, figurin' I'd lose my temper andgive her a tongue lashin'. Gosh, I'm glad she's dead. It was gettin'to be an awful nuisance chasing parrots out of the trees back of Bob'shouse. They got so's they'd come down there and set around all daypickin' up things she said. Somebody told me the other day he heard aparrot 'way up in the woods swearin' like a sailor. He fired a club atit, and what do you think it said to him?"

"If you weren't such an ungodly liar, Soapy, I'd ask you, " said ChiefJustice Malone. 

Soapy regarded him sorrowfully. 

"If you keep on sayin' things like that, Judge, I'll have to tell yourwife you ain't true to her, " said he. 

"And that would be the most prodigious lie you ever told, " exclaimed Mr. Malone. 

"Sure. You and me know it's a lie, but you'd ketch hell, just the same. "

CHAPTER II. 

The population of Trigger Island has increased. Following the exampleof Buck Chizler and the Governor himself, scores of dubious loverstook heart. They succeeded in dispelling certain misgivings--and doubtslurking in the hearts, --not to say consciences, --of approximatelythree-fourths of the unmarried women on the island, with the result thatFather Francisco and Parson Mackenzie were kept exceedingly busy for anumber of weeks. 

The "state, " guided by the newly elected Chief Justice, extracted vowseven more severe than those incorporated in the marriageservice. And yet, despite the emphatic declarations of certaincandidates, --principally male, --there remained in the minds ofall, --including brides, --a lingering doubt. On the other hand, severalardent and undoubtedly honest gentlemen were unable to marry the objectsof their affection for the simple reason that too many people were ableto recall the lamentations of the ladies themselves, in the early dayswhen it was customary to suffer because of the suspense and agony theirpoor husbands were enduring at home. 

The case of Joe Hooker and Matilda Larson was particularly distressing, and ultimately led to the passage of a rather drastic law by theCouncil. Judge Malone was the father of this law. It provided for theautomatic annulment of all previous marriages at the expiration of twoyears, --provided, however, the absent husband or wife didn't turn up tocontest the matter. This law also granted absolute freedom to the absenthusband or wife, who was thereby authorized to remarry without furthernotice, --or words to that effect. It was, declared Randolph Fitts, aperfectly just and equable law, and would no doubt ease the minds ofquite a number of people in far-off lands, --if they ever heard of it. 

Joe and Matilda had been married nearly two months when, in the thickof a connubial row, he demanded her passport. He even went so far as tothreaten her with his if she didn't produce it at once. Matilda'stemper was no milder than Joe's. She not only dug up her passport but amarriage certificate as well, while all he could show was a passport. It was a very unfortunate contretemps, in view of the fact that theyshortly afterwards kissed and "made up. " It so happened that therewere quite a number of witnesses to the flaunting of these damagingdocuments, and as Trigger Island was then in the first stages of areligious upheaval, it was impossible to overlook this definite instanceof iniquity. Despite the recantations of the chagrined couple, --and, it must be added, the surreptitious disappearance of the incriminatingpapers, --the matter was brought before the tribunal of justice. ChiefJustice Malone was equal to the emergency. Indeed, he had been expectingsomething of the sort, and was prepared. He ordered both of theinterested parties to bring suit for divorce from their legal spouses, one for "failure to provide, " the other for "desertion, " and promptlygranted decrees, service by publication having been obtained through themedium of the Trigger Island Pioneer, printed monthly by Peter Snipe, editor and publisher, limited to an edition of one, owing to thescarcity of paper, and posted conspicuously for all subscribers on thebulletin board in front of the "government building. " Additional spicewas lent to the affair by the surprising reluctance of Joe and Matildato re-enter the paradise from which they had been ejected. Apparentlythey had had enough of each other. Moreover, they had both "gotreligion" and insisted on repenting at leisure, separately and alone. But people took a very decided stand in the matter. They could repent inany manner they liked after Matilda's baby was born, but not before. Andso they were married once more, and, strange to relate, lived happilyand contentedly thereafter. 

Now, while all this may strike the reader as footless and trivial, itreally has a distinct place in the chronicles of Trigger Island. If, perforce, the writer has succeeded in treating the situationfacetiously, it should not be assumed that the people of Trigger Islandhad any desire or inclination to be funny about it. On the contrary, they took it very seriously, and quite naturally so, if one stops toconsider the narrow confines by which their very existence was bounded. There were no such things as "trifles" in the daily life of TriggerIsland. The smallest incident took on the importance of an event, theslightest departure from the ordinary at once became significant. Inother circumstances, these people would have been vastly amused by thequixotic settlement of the affairs of Joe and Matilda; they would havegrinned over the extraordinary decree of Justice Malone, and they wouldhave taken it all with an indulgent wink. As a matter of fact, theywere stern-faced and intense. They had made laws of their own, they hadestablished a code. The violation of either was not to be countenanced. It was of no consequence to them that Judge Malone's methods werewithout precedent, that they were not even a travesty in the true lightof the law. 

No one was more soberly in earnest than Michael Malone himself. Theproceedings were carried out with the utmost dignity and formality. There were no smiles, no jocose comments. 

Nothing will serve more clearly to illustrate the sense of isolation towhich the people of Trigger Island had resigned themselves than the factthat they accepted the Judge's decision and the subsequent marriageas absolutely unassailable, either from a legal or an ethical point ofview. 

The town itself was flourishing. Traffic and commerce were carried onin the most systematic, organized manner. Everybody was busy. The utterimpossibility for one man or set of men to profit at the expense ofothers naturally put a curb upon ambitions, but it did not subdue thespirit of enterprise. 

There is a baby in the Governor's Mansion, --a lusty boy with blue eyesand an engaging smile. He is four months old, and his name is already ahousehold word on Trigger Island. It is not Algernon, nor is it Adonis. It is John;--John Clinton Percival. 

The Governor's Mansion is a pretentious structure. It has four rooms anda bath! A wide porch extends along the full front of the house, with asteeply pitched awning protecting it from the rain and sun. At one endof the porch is a very cosy arrangement of hand-wrought chairs anda commodious swinging seat. The other end, just off the parentalbed-chamber, has been converted into an out-door sleeping-room for JohnC. Percival. The Governor's lady has no nursemaid. She does her ownhousework, her own washing and ironing, and she takes care of her ownbaby. (There is no such thing on Trigger Island as a servant. Morethan one woman who reads this tale will sigh and murmur something aboutParadise. ) Ruth still teaches in the little school. Though she is thefirst lady of the land, she supports herself, she earns her daily bread. It is the law irrevocable. There are no distinctions. Nor would she haveit otherwise. 

The "Mansion, " as it was universally called, stands alone at the upperend of the Green, facing the meeting-house. The nearest hut is at leasttwo hundred yards away. Work on its construction was begun the dayafter the wedding. For weeks men had toiled eagerly, enthusiastically, voluntarily, and in the first gay days of spring it was completed. Since then, the same hands, the same thoughts, the same interests wereconstantly employed in improvements, --not only to the house itself butto the grounds about it. The Governor's "Mansion" became the playthingof the people. Percival's protests were received with amiable grins. 

"It's our house, boss, --not yours, " explained Buck Chizler, whose sparetime was largely expended in the development, --you might almost say, the financing, --of a flower-bed on the lawn. It was to be the finestflower-bed of them all, he swore. "This is government property and we, the people, are going to do what we please with it. "

"That's all very fine, Buck, but don't you think you ought to bespending your spare hours with your wife, instead of puttering aroundhere?"

"Do you know who the boss of this job is? My wife. I'm nothing but anordinary day-laborer, a plain Mick, a sort of a Wop, obeying orders. Good gosh, you don't think I've got brains enough to design thisflower-bed, do you? No, sirree! It takes an artist to think up a designlike this. When I get all these rocks in place according to plans you'llsee what I mean. It'll be a hum-dinger, A. A. This here thing runningoff this way is the tail. Come over here and look at it from thisside, --it's upside down from where you're standin'. "

"Tail? Tail of what?"

"Tail of a horse. This is going to be a horse when it's finished. "

"My God!"

Buck was not above being irritated by the dismay in Percival's voice. 

"Minnie's got her heart set on it, A. A. , " he explained. "It's going tobe a sorrel horse, you see, --with a blue tail and a red head. Mustard, hollyhocks and geraniums is what she's going to plant here when I getthe bed fixed. Socrates, --he was the best horse I ever straddled, --hewas a sorrel. I took him down the--"

"As far as you've got, Buck, it looks more like a dachshund than ahorse, " observed Percival. 

Buck eyed his work deprecatingly. "That's because there ain't spaceenough. I had to either saw his legs off or else have him layin' down. Minnie had him kneelin' in her first sketch, but gosh, it was thefunniest thing you ever saw. It ain't possible for a horse to kneelwith his hind legs, but she had him doin' it all right, --kneelingforward, at that, with his tail stickin' straight up so's it wouldn'tbe in the way of his heels. It's all Jack Wales's fault. He simply wouldput that blamed sun-dial of his right in the middle of this plot, --andthese doggoned gravel-walks running every which way give me theblind-staggers. Why, A. A. , you got more gravel walks here thanthey've got in Central Park. And all these scrubby hedges, stone walls, fountains, flower-beds, cedar freaks, --my God, Perce, I'd hate to comehome a little squiffed if I lived in that house of yours, 'specially atnight. Look at old Pedro and Philippa over there, setting out that stuffthat looks like sparrowgrass. And that prize job of Ed Keller's, --myGod, A. A. , what good is a dog kennel on this island? There ain't a doginside a thousand miles. The only one we ever had was that poodle oldMrs. Velasco had, and it died before--"

"That isn't a kennel, Buck. "

"It ain't? Well, what is it?"

"It's a Swiss chalet. "

"What does Ed Keller know about Swiss chalets?"

"Nothing, --absolutely nothing, Buck, " admitted Percival forcibly. 

A tall, perfectly straight flagpole graced the extensive "front-yard, "and from its peak floated the flag of Trigger Island, --a great whitepennon with a red heart in the centre, symbolic of love, courage, fidelity. But on the tip of Split Mountain the Stars and Stripes stillwaves from sunrise to sunset. 

The new cabins are farther up the slope of the mountains, overlookingwhat is now called the "old" town. There is something fairy-like inthe picture one sees at night from the Green below. Dozens of lightedwindows gleam softly through the foliage, for all the world likewitches' lamps. The day reveals thin, blue plumes of smoke stealing outof the tops of the trees to be wafted off into nothingness; they comefrom invisible chimneys far down in the leafy fastnesses. Up here arethe huts of the newly married. Almost without exception, they are tinyaffairs, scarcely larger than the metaphorical bandbox. Each containstwo rooms. 

During the very hot weather in January and February, the long, curvingbeach is alive with oddly dressed bathers and idlers. This is at middayonly, when the sun is so hot and fierce that all work ceases for twohours or more. Though the sun is hot, the water is never warm. A dip inthe surf is all that any one save the hardiest cares to take. They lollon the cool white sands, under improvised shelters made of boughs, or indulge in spirited games on the long level stretches. This is theplay-hour of the people throughout the hot months of summer. They "knockoff" work of all sorts, and seek relief from the stifling heat of thewoodland in the cool wet sands along the shore. 

The costumes are strange and varied; some are pretty, others almostludicrous. Small children appear in a scant breech-cloth; women of allages and proportions wear a sort of one-piece "jumper, " arms bare andlegs uncovered up to the knees. The men affect nothing except trunksmade from coffee sacks. The few real bathing-suits belong to suchexperienced travellers as Nicklestick, Shine and the Blocks, --regularand persistent patrons of the hotels at Atlantic City, Palm Beach andRockaway. They never travel without a full and complete equipment. Mr. Nicklestick, very superior in his red two piece "costume, " goes sofar as to contend that a man never should be without a bathing-suit, because, says he, "it takes up no room in your trunk, and if you leaveit at home some one else is sure to stretch it so's you can't use ityourself again. "

Olga Obosky and her three dancing-girls, Careni-Amori, and severalof the Brazilian ladies possess Ostend costumes in which they disportthemselves with complacent disregard for public opinion, favourable orotherwise. 

"She's got 'em all skinned a mile, " was Morris Shine's comment uponOlga's lithe, graceful figure. "Ain't that so, Abey?"

The remark was addressed to Abel Landover. 

"Even so, " returned that gentleman, glaring at the offender, "it doesn'tgive you the right to call me Abey. You've got to cut it out, Shine. Understand?"

"Sure, " said the affable Morris. "Only I've got a brother named Abraham, and that was my father's name too. It comes natural to me to--Why, bygracious, she's got the Venus Belvedere lashed to the mast. Did you eversee--"

"I've never had the pleasure of seeing the Venus Belvedere, " interruptedLandover coldly. 

"You haven't?" exclaimed Morris, amazed. "The armless wonder? You ain'tseen her? Why, she's supposed to have the most perfect figger in theworld. Maybe you've seen her without knowing what her name is. Theynever put the name on it, simply because every school boy and girl issupposed to know who it is without being told. Funny you don't know--Oh, she ain't alive, you know, --she ain't real. She's a statue, --thousandsof 'em turned out every year. Gee, the feller that designed that statuemust have cleaned up a pile. But, as I was saying, our little old Olgahas got her--Say, did you ever see a figger like that?"

"Yes, " broke in Landover shortly, "thousands of them. "

Mr. Shine looked sceptical. "Well, " he said after a moment's reflection, and with studied politeness, --having already offended at the outset, "all I got to say is, you talk like a woman, that's all I got to say. "

Landover was a greatly changed man in these days. There had come acrisis in the affairs of Trigger Island, not many weeks before thesecond annual election in April, when he was obliged to show his truecolours. The banker suddenly realized with a shock that he was actuallyinvolved in a well-organized, though secret plot to overthrow theso-called "government. " He had been completely deceived by the wilyManuel Crust and several of his equally wily friends. They professed tobe organizing an opposition party to oust the dictatorial Percival andhis clique from office at the ensuing election, --a feat, theyadmitted, that could be accomplished only by the most adroit and covert"educational" campaign, "under the rose" perforce, but justifiable inthe circumstances. They had led Landover to believe that he was theirchoice for governor. They went among the people, insidiously sowing theseeds of discontent, hinting at the advantages to be obtained by theelection of an entirely new set of officers, mostly from among thepeople themselves, but headed by the ablest man on the island, --Abel T. Landover. They argued that as treasurer and comptroller of currency hehad shown himself to be the only man qualified to direct the affairs ofthe people. 

And Landover believed them. Despite his superior intelligence andhis vaunted ability to size up his fellow man, he was as blind andunsuspecting as a child when it came to penetrating the real motivesof the conspirators. Vain, self-important, possessed of an abnormalconceit, men of his type go ahead ruthlessly, ignoring the details, bentonly on achieving the ultimate. In Landover's case, he made the fatalerror of underestimating the craftiness of Manuel Crust; he looked uponhim as a blatant, ignorant ruffian of the stripe best known to him asa "beer saloon politician, "--and known only by hearsay, at that. Heregarded himself as the master-politician and Crust as a contemptiblenecessity. 

As a matter of fact, Crust was using him to very materially advance hisown ends. The big Portuguese had a very definite purpose in mind. He hadno more intention of making Landover the chief man of the island thanhe had of flying to the moon. He, --Manuel Crust, --was to have thatdistinction! He despised Landover and all that he represented. He hatedhim because he was rich, educated, favoured by fortune, --and given towashing himself with unnecessary frequency and thoroughness. Manuel wasfoul of body as well as foul at heart. He bitterly resented the sanitaryrules set up and enforced by the Council because those rules interferedwith what he was pleased to call his personal liberty. Why should he berequired to wash himself if he didn't want to do so? And why should hedo a great many silly things that Dr. Cullen ordered, just because a lotof aristocrats were in the habit of doing them?

His hatred of Landover, however, was impersonal. The banker merelyrepresented a class. On the other hand, he hated Percival as anindividual; he hated him with every drop of blood in his black, venomousheart. He had a certain grudging regard, --it might even be calledrespect, --for the class to which Landover belonged; he was sometimesconscious of a strange but quite positive sense of his own inferiority. But he did not for an instant put Percival in the class with Landover. He looked upon the young American as being no better than himself, andyet the people from the Doraine had showered honours upon him, had madehim their chief, had suffered him, --a vagabond without a penny to hisname, --to marry the fairest and rarest woman of them all. What right hadthis interloper to everything that was worth having, while he, an honestfellow who always had paid his way, was denied even the smallest placein the councils of the land? What right had he, a tramp, to sit upon athrone?

Landover was an unwitting, but thoroughly self-satisfied dupe. He fittedin very nicely with Manuel's plan to gain control of the island. Therewere certain people who regarded the great banker as an apostle, a manto follow, to be imitated, --such men as Block, Nicklestick and a fewothers. Was he not one of the great financial geniuses of the day? Washe not a power, a tremendous power, in the banking world? Was he nota man who understood how to transform a dollar into a business blockalmost over-night? For a time, sentiment had played tricks with theirboasted astuteness. Swept along by the current, they had failed toappreciate the true conditions. They began to realize that it had been amistake to keep such men as Percival in power; behind the hand theywent about convincing each other that it was high time to rectify theoriginal error. These, in addition to the ignorant, easily persuadedrabble from the steerage, --who, by the way, could give ample testimonyas to Percival's ability to "bluff, "--provided Crust with a decidedlyformidable following. The steerage people had but to be reminded of thetime when Percival tricked them so successfully. 

Crust contended that if the American could fool them once, he would doso again, --in fact, he went so far as to say that he had been doing itall the time. 

There was nothing open and above board about the methods of ManuelCrust. He proceeded about the business of fomenting dissatisfaction andstrife with an artfulness surprising in one of his type. At no time didhe openly denounce the "government. " He was very careful about that. A jesting word here, a derisive smile there, a shrug of theshoulders, --and in good time others less politic than himself began todo the talking. Others began to complain of the high-handed, dictatorialmanner in which Percival and his friends ruled the community. 

The secret, stealthy opposition grew apace; it assumed sinisterproportions, --all the more sinister because it was masked by everyoutward sign of submission. Crust had won friends right and left amongthe very people who would have killed him not so many months before butfor the very man he was planning to destroy. 

Outwardly he had changed, --not subtly, it is true, --from a sullen, threatening bully into a hearty, smiling, sympathetic comrade who laidhimself out to be obliging. Even Percival was puzzled, if not deceived, by this surprising transformation. 

CHAPTER III. 

It was Olga Obosky who discovered and exposed the plot. A young Spaniardhad fallen hopelessly, madly in love with her. He was a good-looking, hard-eyed boy from the pampas, --a herder who was on his way to visit hismother in from Rio. He was a "gun-slinger" bearing close relationship tothe type of cowboy that existed in the old days of the Far West but whois now extinct save for pictorial perpetuation on the moving-picturescreens. 

Down in his wild young heart smouldered a furious jealousy of Percival. Crust played upon this jealousy to fine effect. He did not hesitateto feed the flame with sly speculations, innuendos and even talesconcerning Percival and Olga. 

One day the Spaniard, in the midst of his violent protestations andpleadings, became reckless with promises to Olga. He swore that if shewould have him he would make her the first lady of the land in place ofthe stupid American girl who now held the honour. Then, having loosedhis tongue, he poured out the whole of the ugly scheme which was toalter every existing condition on the island. The wiping out of thedictator and his swell-headed gang of "intellectuals"; the seizure ofall firearms, ammunition and stores; the complete subjugation of thepeople, even to the point of slavery; the elevation of Manuel Crustand his followers to a state of absolute power; the confiscation of allproperty, --including women! He naively advised her to jump at the chanceoffered her, --the chance to avoid the most unpleasant feature of the newregime. 

"As my woman, " he said, "you will be safe. It is understood. It is allarranged. If you belong to me, nothing can happen to you. We shall beof the elect. I am to be of the council. I am to be one of the masters, the--"

"But, " she cried, scarcely able to believe her ears, "how is all this tobe accomplished? How will the few overcome the many? You say there arescarcely more than a dozen of you, my friend. What can a dozen men doto--"

"It will be simple, " cried he, his eyes flaming. "How is it thatPercival and his little gang hold all of us in bondage? It is becausethey have the guns, the revolvers, the bullets. Well, we shall have theguns, and everything. When the time comes, when the people have votedin the election and a new party is in control, then we will have ourchance. We will have the upper hand. To hell with the people, Olga. Theywill count for nothing once we have charge of the guns and stores. ThisPercival he has ordered the election. He insists that the people begiven a chance to vote once a year, to elect some one to take his placeif they feel like it. He says it is only fair. Faugh! He laughs in hissleeve. Come! Your promise! I love you. I must have you for my woman. I cannot live without you. I will give you power to spit in the faceof that woman down there--that American aristocrat! We will be rich, wewill be happy, we will have everything. Diamonds and pearls and rubiesand all the gold there is on this island. We will be the ones to go awayin the ship, and we will have jewels to shame the richest of them. "

"We--you and Manuel and the rest--are to go away in the ship?" shecried, cold to the marrow of her bones. 

"Sure. Why not? Are we not to be the owners of that ship? It is yourchance to go back to the world again, --with me! Oh, and I agree to thisalso: If you do not want me any longer after you are in Rio or BuenosAires or anywhere out there, --if you would rather be free again, --Ipromise to release you. What could be fairer than that? Nothing! I shallkill myself, of course, when you leave me, --but still I promise, and Inever break a promise. But I shall love you so much that you will neverleave me. You are my queen. Hell, how I love you--how I love you!" Hisface darkened, then slowly paled. He realized that he had gone too far. Leaning close to her, his frightened eyes not a foot from hers, he said:"You cannot deny me now. I have told you everything. I do not know whyI have told you. I must be crazy with love of you. Ah, --the look in yourbeautiful eyes! God, how it takes the weight off my mind. You will loveme, --you will be mine, --I see it in your eyes. When? When?"

She affected a bantering smile. She knew how to play with such fools ashe. 

"Do you think I am a fool? How do I know you are not lying to me aboutall this? It may be a trick to influence me. No, no! I am not such asimpleton. You promise me diamonds, and gold, and much love. You promiseto take me away from this dreadful place on a ship, back to the worldI worship. But you may be lying. I must have something better than yourword, my friend. "

"But I am telling you the truth. I swear it!" he cried eagerly. 

"Keep your hands off of me, --do you hear! Don't touch me! Not yet, notyet. I must have some proof that you can give me all these things youoffer. Will you have Manuel Crust guarantee that--"

"My God, --Manuel, --he must not know I have spoken to you. He must neverknow, " he gasped. "Take my word, --believe me, beloved one. It isthe God's truth I tell you. Within the month I will lay diamonds, pearls, --everything, --at your feet. I--"

"Leave me now. Come again, --tomorrow. I must think. I must--"

"But you will love me? You will come to me? You--"

"You are a very handsome boy, " she said softly, "and I should like tobelieve you. "

He followed her for a few steps, trouble in his eyes. 

"It is not enough. I must have your promise, " he said. 

She looked at him coldly. "You will have it when I am ready to give it, "she said, and his face lightened for a moment, only to darken again. 

"I will cut your heart out if you breathe a word of this to any one, " hewhispered hoarsely. 

"Is that the way for a lover to speak?" she returned. 

"Yes, " he said without hesitation. "It is the way, --with me. "

"Come to me tomorrow and tell me exactly what my share of the treasureis to be, --and then I will let you know whether it is to be you--orManuel Crust, my friend. Oh, you see, I am greedy, --and I can loveManuel quite as easily as I can love--"

"I will cut his heart out if you--"

"There--there! It will not be necessary. Come tomorrow. "

That same afternoon she went to Percival with the Spaniard's story. 

"Well, we'll nip that in the bud, " said he, setting his jaw. "The firstthing to do is to warn Landover. "

"Warn Landover!" cried the Russian. "He is all mix up in it, --he is oneof ze ringleaders. "

"No, he isn't. He's not that kind of a man. He doesn't know a thingabout all this, I'll stake my life on it. "

"But, Olga, " cried Ruth, white-faced and troubled; "Fernandez will killyou. He will, --Good heaven, girl, did he not swear to cut your heart outif you--"

"Poof!" cried the other, snapping her fingers. "He will not do zat, my dear. I am not afraid. Do you know what happens to informers in mycountry? They vanish. No one ever sees them again, and no one ever askswhere they have gone. They are here today--tomorrow they are not. It isthe same the world over. "

"You mean, --Manuel's men will make way with him? How horrible!"

"Do not waste your sympathy on zat Fernandez. He is no good. You wouldsee what kind of man he is if this plot should succeed. "

"But you will have to give him your answer tomorrow, " cried Ruth. 

Olga shot a keen glance at Percival's face. 

"It is for you to say, Percivail, what my answer shall be, " said she, after, a slight pause. A queer pallor spread over her face. 

"For me to say?" he exclaimed. 

"Are you not the governor? If it suits your plans for me to give myselfto zat man--"

"My God, Olga! What the devil are you driving at?"

"--to satisfy him until you are prepared to nip zis revolution in thebud, as you say, --I shall--"

"Thunderation!" he gasped. "You mean you would sacrifice yourself--GreatScot! What do you think I'm expecting to do? Go to sleep for a month orso? Bless your heart, my dear Olga, if you are even thinking of gettingmarried to Fernandez, you'll have to be pretty spry about it. BecauseI'm going to nip the business in the bud before tomorrow morning. "

"Zat is what I thought, " said she, the colour rushing back to her face. 

That evening Percival called a meeting of the "cabinet, "--as the councilwas now called. They were asked to come to his home, instead of to themeetinghouse. This, of itself, was surprising. Landover had never setfoot inside the "governor's mansion. " While his attitude toward the"governor's lady" was studiedly courteous, he made no effort to resumethe intimate and friendly relationship that existed before her marriageto his enemy. Contact with Percival was unavoidable. They met frequentlyin "cabinet" conferences, but avoided each other at all other times. 

He came to this hastily called meeting, however, and Percival was theonly man present who was not dumbfounded. Sheriff Shay, in summoning themembers to this secret meeting, had delivered a message that Landovercould not well afford to ignore. 

Seventeen men were crowded into the little sitting-room of the house. Each one of them bore a high-sounding title. There were present, besidesPercival, State Treasurer Landover, Chief Justice Malone, Minister ofWar Platt, Minister of Marine Mott, Minister of Agriculture Pedro Drom, State Clerk Flattner, Surgeon General Cullen, Lord High Sheriff Shay, and the following members of the Executive Council: Snipe, Block, Jones, Fitts, Knapendyke, Calkins, Ruiz' and Alvara. Ruiz was a Chileanmerchant and Alvara a Brazilian coffee grower. Calkins was an Englishcattle buyer. 

Percival, with his customary abruptness, announced that there was a ploton foot to destroy the present government and turn the island over tothe mercy of a gang of desperadoes headed by Manuel Crust. 

Landover was on his feet in an instant. 

"I am in a position, gentlemen, to declare that there is not a word oftruth in that statement. It is true there is a very definite movement onfoot to organize a new party to contest the election of many of uswho are gathered here tonight. The people want a change. They aredissatisfied. They have a right to vote as they please, to choose theirown--"

"We are not here to discuss the election, Mr. Landover, " broke inPercival. "Before we go any farther, however, I wish to state that ifyou are chosen Governor of Trigger Island, you will find no one morewilling and ready to serve you than I. But, that is beside the question. If you will listen to me, I will tell you exactly what it is thatconfronts us. The election next month is to be the signal for all kindsof hell. You may be elected governor, Mr. Landover, --but you will not beallowed to serve. Now, here is the story that came to me today, --and Ican vouch for it. I am authorized, --in fact I am commanded to reveal toyou the name of my informant. You may be sure I did my best toprevail upon her to remain unknown, for the present, at least, but shethreatened to go forth and shout her story from the housetops if I didnot do as she wished. "

The conference ended an hour later, and Abel Landover had shown histrue colours at last. He stood up, his face drawn and haggard, his eyesablaze, his voice husky, and addressed the group. 

"Gentlemen, I have been wrong. I am grateful to Mr. Percival for hisgenerosity in warning me of the danger into which I was rushing. We havenot been friends. He could have left me to my fate. I would not haveblamed him. He has played fair, --and I have not. I ask you all tobear witness to that humiliating admission. I have argued here tonightagainst all of you, --when down in my heart I had the sickening fearthat this damnable story is true. I now believe it to be true. I now seethrough the whole devilish game. 

"I give you my word of honour as a gentleman and an American, I did notrealize the true conditions until tonight. Perhaps I might have foundout in time to upset their plans, --but that is doubtful. These menare smart. They are natural born plotters. They are dark men with darksouls. This fellow Fernandez has fooled me completely. He is a gay, smiling boy, but now that I have heard Madame Obosky's account of him, Irecall many little traits in his make-up that go far to substantiate mynew opinion of him. I never quite understood till now why he hated you, Percival. Frankly, I knew that he had it in his heart to kill you. Crusthas told me of his difficulty in keeping him from running a knife intoyou. I thought it was all talk, boyish bravado, --but now I know he meantit. "

He lifted his head and set his jaw. "Gentlemen, I have a shamefulconfession to make. Ever since I can remember, my sole thought has beento rule. I did not know what it was to take orders from another manuntil I came to this island. My whole being has been in revolt. Thethought uppermost in my mind for two years has been to re-establishmyself as a dominating force. To that end, I have played pretty badpolitics. I have worked upon the credulity and cupidity of these men, promising them positions of authority if I were chosen by vote to governthe affairs of this island. But, I am sure you all will believe mewhen I say that it was my purpose to administer those affairs honestly, fairly and as capably as I knew how. I was not only deceived by thesemen, but by myself as well. I have played, like a blundering fool, intotheir hands. My chagrin is beyond words. I can only say to you now thatyou may count upon my unfailing support in any action you may decide totake. My forebears were honest, loyal, law-abiding Americans. I--I thinkI may say without fear of contradiction that it is impossible for me torun otherwise than true to form. 

"I lied, Percival, to Ruth Clinton about the encounter in my stateroomon the Doraine. Believe me or not as you see fit, but I think that wasthe only deliberate lie I have ever told in my life. I have done a greatmany high-handed things, I have been inconsiderate of others, I havecrushed opposition in my own way, I have never allowed myself toacknowledge defeat. My hand has been against you since the day youappeared on the decks of the Doraine. It was not in my nature to seegood in you. To me, you were a good-for-nothing--Well, I'm glad to seeyou smile! That is the devil with you, --your confounded smile. I ask youto overlook what I have said, and done--and been, Percival, --and shakehands. You have nothing to apologize for. There never has been a timein all these months that I have not felt you to be a real man, anhonest one, and a gentleman. I think I know an honest man when I seeone, --indeed, it is my business to read men, --and I rarely make amistake. "

As the two men shook hands, Randolph Fitts remarked drily:

"Seems to me I remember your saying something of the sort the first dayyou ever laid eyes on A. A. , Abel. "

"The trouble is, " put in Soapy Shay sarcastically, "you don't know adishonest one when you see him, Bill. "

"Veil, let's get down to business, " said Moses Block nervously. "Vemust go slow and careful-like. If we show our hands too soon, they willuprise and--veil, I don't know vat!"

"Mr. Mott, what would you do if you got wind of a plot like this aboardship?" inquired Percival, his eyes narrowing. 

"I would have the whole gang in chains before morning. Then I'd give'em a taste of the 'cat' at daybreak, and before noon I'd have theringleaders hanging from a yard-arm, " said Andrew Mott, succinctly. 

"Oh, my gracious!" gulped Mr. Block. 

"Now, I'll tell you what would happen up in Copperhead Camp, " saidPercival, darkly. "They would get a beautiful cow-hiding and thensentenced to wear a ball and chain, day and night, for anywhere from sixmonths to two years, --depending largely on the process of regeneration. My experience has been that six months is enough. "

"We wouldn't dare do that, A. A. , " said Fitts. "You must not forgetpublic sentiment, --and public pity. I've got a better plan. How far outis that little island off New Gibraltar, Platt?"

"A quarter of a mile, I should say. "

"Well, if they're not satisfied with life and conditions here, let'smake 'em a present of a nice little island of their own. That's whatI've always advocated as the proper way to treat anarchists. Stick 'emaway on an island completely surrounded by sharks and let 'em run it tosuit themselves. "

"But there are no sharks in these waters, " said Flattner. "They'd swimover here some night and slit all our throats. "

"Not a chance. They hate water too much to have ever learned how toswim. Now, here's the scheme. Round up as many of them as we're deadsure about, row 'em out to the island, dump 'em with enough food andwater to last a week, supply them with tents and beds and tools, and let'em build their own penitentiary. They'll have to do it or freeze nextwinter. Once a week send food and drink out to them. The water is ahundred fathoms deep between Trigger Island and that little green wartout there on the face of the ocean. It will look like a million miles tothem. How does it strike you, gentlemen?"

Off the precipitous western extremity of Trigger Island lies a tinyscrap of tree-covered land. It is perhaps one hundred yards wide andthrice as long. An exploring party had visited it shortly after thewreck of the Doraine, but since then no one had set foot upon itsshores. Its steep slopes, densely wooded, viewed from afar, suggested amountain top sticking up out of the sea. By boat, skirting the coast, itwas a good ten miles distant from the town. 

Three men were seized that night and put through a rigid examination. Early the next morning twelve more were taken, Manuel Crust among them. Half of them, in their terror, "squealed. " Crust himself was one ofthese. Almost before the people of the town knew what was afoot, thefifteen had been tried, convicted, and were on their way to the landingwhere boats were waiting to take them and their belongings off intoexile. As for the conspirators themselves, the blow was so swift, sosudden, that they were dazed. It was like a bolt out of a clear sky. 

Judge Malone sent them to "the Island" for indeterminate periods. Atstated intervals they were to be released, one by one, and restoredto citizenship. The shortest term of exile, however, was one year. Thereleases were to be decided by lot, except in the case of threemen: Crust, Fernandez and an Irish sailor named Clark. They were theringleaders and they were to remain on "the Island" until the time camefor them to go aboard the relief ship with all the other citizens ofTrigger. At the end of the first year, and once a month thereafter fortwelve months, drawings were to be held, and the man whose name wasdrawn would be released. 

"You are prisoners of state, " said Judge Malone, in passing sentence. "The state is obliged to feed you, and clothe you, and sustain you ifyou fall ill, no matter how bitterly it goes against the grain. You willnot be obliged to work, or wash, or observe a single law. You may robeach other to your hearts' content, you may murder each other withperfect impunity, you may do just as you like. We started out to conductthe affairs of this island along lines laid down by the Golden Rule. Ihave come to the conclusion that the Golden Rule would be all right ifit were not for the human race. I am beginning to believe that the Ruleof Iron is the only one for the people of this earth to live under, --andthat is a pretty hard thing for an Irishman to say. You men ought to belined up against a wall and shot. We do not feel that we have the rightto take your lives. It is not in our hearts to destroy you, as you wouldhave destroyed us. But you may not dwell among us. "

Fernandez, wild with fury, shrieked vengeance upon the head of OlgaObosky. Out of his ravings, the unsavoury crew gleaned enough toconvince them that he was responsible for their present unhappy plight. 

"You will pay for this, you snake!" he yelled, foaming at the mouth andshaking his fist at her. "I will drink your heart's blood! Remember whatJoe Fernandez says. I will come back here and get you, --Oh, I will getyou, --and when I am through with you your dog of a lover may have whatis left. I will cut you to pieces! I swear it--I swear it! Hear my oath!You double-crossed me! You squealed on me! I will come back, and I willdrink your heart's blood! I swear it!"

He spat in her direction as he was dragged away with the rest of thegang. Through his glittering, bloodshot eyes he saw the cool, derisivesneer on her red lips. He had failed, however, to note the keen, appraising look with which she searched the faces of his baffled, glowering companions. In that long, tense look she had seen dawningcomprehension change to conviction; she had read his doom, so shecould, in perfect security, give him that scoffing, heartless smile totake with him on the journey from which he was never to return. 

Fifteen men went out to "the Island" that afternoon. From that day, theauthorities provided weekly rations for that number of men. To thisday they are ignorant of the fact that there are but fourteen mouths tofeed. 

CHAPTER IV. 

In the cool of a balmy January evening, following what had been thehottest day the castaways had experienced since coming to TriggerIsland, a group of men and women sat upon the Governor's porch. Therewas no moon, but the sky was speckled with millions of stars. 

Olga Obosky, sitting on the squared log that served as a step, leanedback against the awning post, her legs stretched out in luxuriousabandon. She was fanning herself, and her breath came rapidly, pantingly. Now and then she patted her moist face with a handkerchief. 

"How warm you are, Olga, " said Ruth, who sat beside her. "And you mustbe dreadfully tired. "

"I am hot, but I am not tired, " replied the other. "I could dance allnight, my dear, without tiring. Did you really like the children, Ruth?"

"They were lovely. You have done wonders with them. "

"Regular Isadora Duncan stuff, " sighed Peter Snipe, drawing lazily athis pipe. "Woodland nymphs, phantom pixies floating on the wind, zephyrsin the guise of fairies, dreams come true, --my dear Olga, you are asorceress. You change clods into moonbeams, you turn human beings intovapours, you cast the mantle of enchantment over the midsummer night, and we see Oberon, Titania and all the rest of them disporting on thebreeze. And to think that only this afternoon I saw all of those gawkygirls working in the fields, their legs the colour of tan bark, withsandals that looked like canal-boats, skirts made of hemp, --just regularkids. And you transform them tonight into gleaming cloudlets to floatupon the ambient atmosphere--"

"For heaven's sake, Pete, stop being an author and talk like a realman, " interrupted Fitts. "Can't you say, 'Gee, they was great, Olger'?"

It was "Twelfth Night, " and Olga's pupils had given a fairy dance onthe Green. To conclude the almost mystic entertainment, the great Oboskyherself had appeared in one of her most marvellous creations, --the"Dance of the Caliph's Dream, "--the sensational, never-to-be-forgottendance that had been the talk of three continents. There was no spotlightto follow her sinuous, scantily clad figure as it spun and leaped andglided about the dim, starlit Green; there was no blare of brass andcymbals, nor the haunting wail of flageolets, --only the tinkle ofmandolins and Spanish guitars to guide her bewildering feet, --and yetshe had never been so alluring. 

When it was all over, --when the charmed circle of faces had vanishedinto the byways of the night, --she came and flung herself down uponthe steps of the Governor's mansion. She had wrapped her warm body in asheath of yellow velvet; the tips of her bare feet were exposed to thegrateful night air. Her uplifted eyes shone like the stars that lookeddown into them; her lips were parted in a smile; her flesh quivered withthe physical ecstasy that comes only with supreme lassitude. 

"You never danced so beautifully in your life, Olga, " said Careni-Amori. "And after two years, too. I cannot understand. I shall never sing againas I sang two years ago. But you, --ah, you dance even better. I takecourage from you. Perhaps my voice has not gone to seed as Joseppi'shas, --poor man. Not that it had very far to go, --but still it was secondonly to Caruso's, and that is something. How can it be that you improvewith idleness, while I--while we go the other way?"

"I shall never dance like zat again, " replied Olga, her eyes clouding. 

"You speak as if it were your swan dance, " cried Michael Malone. 

"Oh, I shall dance for ever, " said she, "but never again like zat. Youwould ask why not. I cannot tell you. I do not know. Only can I say Ishall never dance like zat again, --never. "

Ruth turned her head quickly to look at the woman beside her. Olga'sface gleamed white in the starlight. Her eyes were still searching thespeckled dome, and the smile had left her lips. 

"Don't say that, Olga, " she whispered softly. "You will delight greataudiences again, --you will charm--"

"Possibly, " interrupted the other, lowering her voice, turning her eyesupon Ruth, and smiling mysteriously. "Great audiences, yes, --but whatare they? I appeared tonight before an audience of one. I danced as Ihave never danced before, --all for zat audience of one. Your husband, mydear. He one time informs me he has never seen me dance. Well, --tonightI dance for him. Now, he can say he have seen Obosky dance. He willnever forget zat he have seen Obosky dance. "

Ruth laughed, but it was a strained effort. "He was positivelyenchanted, Olga, " she said. Then she added: "But for goodness' sake, don't ever let him know that you did it all for him. He will be so proudand important that--"

"Oh, he knows I danced for him, " broke in the Russian calmly, in a mostmatter-of-fact tone. 

"You--you told him?"

"I did not have to tell him. He knew, without being told. La la, mydear! Do not look so shocked. It is a habit I have. Always I dance forone person in my audience. I pick him out, --sometimes it is a she, --andzen I try only to please zat one person. I make him to feel he is theone I am dancing for, zat he is all alone in the great big hall, --allalone with me. Maybe he is in the gallery, looking down; maybe he is ina box, or standing up at the back of the house, --no matter where he is, I pick him out and so I think of no one else all ze time I dance. "

"And, by the same token, he is powerless to think of any one else. Isee. No wonder you charm them out of their boots. "

"And all the rest of his life he will remember that I danced for himalone, zat man. As for me, --poof! I would not recognize him again if hecame to see me a thousand nights in succession. Once I saw a very tinyboy in the stalls. He was with his mother and father. I danced for zatchild of six. When he is a very, very old man he will look back overthe years and see me dancing still, --always the same whirling, dazzlingthing that filled his little eyes and soul with wonder. So! Percivailhas seen me at my best. He will tell his grandchildren how wonderfulObosky was, --and he will think of her to his dying day as somethingbeautiful, not something vile. "

"Oh, Olga!"

"You see, my dear, " said the other, composedly, "I wanted to make a goodimpression on zat virtuous husband of jours. Now he will think of me asthe artist, not as the woman. It is much better so, is it not?"

"Sometimes you say things that cause me to wonder why I don't hate you, Olga Obosky, " cried Ruth under her breath. 

Olga laughed softly. "I repeat zat Golden Rule to myself every night andevery morning, Ruthkin, " said she, somewhat cryptically. Then they weresilent. 

Conversation on the porch behind them lagged and finally ceasedaltogether. The soft swish of fans was the only sound to disturb thetranquil stillness. 

"Nineteen-twenty, " fell dreamily from the lips of Randolph Fitts's wife. "I used to think of Nineteen-twenty as being so far in the future thatI would be an old, old woman when I came to it. And here it is, --I amliving in it, --and I am not old. "

"Presidential year, " said Michael Malone, as he struck a match torelight the pipe that had gone out. "Doesn't take them long to sliparound, does it? Seems only last week that I voted for Wilson. I wonderif he'll be running again. "

"Sure! And if he can keep us in the war as long as he kept us out ofit, " said Peter Snipe, "we'll have to elect him again. "

"I'd give a lot to know whether we've got the Germans licked or not, "mused Fitts. "We've had nearly three years to do it in. "

"Depends entirely on the navy, " said Platt, Minister of Marine, late ofthe U. S. Navy. 

"What can the navy do if the Germans will not come out?" demandedLandover. 

"Why, confound it all, the navy can go in, can't it?"

"The British Navy hasn't, " was Landover's reply. 

"What's the use of speculating about the war?" said Percival, as hethrew himself on the grass at Ruth's feet. "Either it's over or itisn't, and here we sit absolutely in the dark. They might as well befighting on Mars as over in Europe, so far as we are concerned. ForGod's sake, let's not even think about the war. We'll all go crazy if wedo. "

"You're right, " said Fitts, gloomily. 

"In any case, " said Malone, "Trigger Island has done all that anyself-respecting government can do. She has declared war on Germany. Wehave nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I'd feel better if we could fire afew shots at the dirty blackguards. "

"The war is over, " said Olga, staring up at the stars. "The Germans arebeaten. I have said so for many months, have I not?"

"You have, " agreed Malone. "But I don't see that you have anything onthe Kaiser. He said it was over in 1914. "

"'Don't argue with him, Olga, " said young Mrs. Malone. "He's Irish. "

"Like all Irishers he's longing for something he'll never get, " saidFitts, drily. 

"And what is that?" inquired Mrs. Malone. 

"Home-rule, " said Fitts. 

Olga Obosky yawned luxuriously. "I am so sleepy. My sandals, GovernorPercivail. I am going home. "

He picked up the sandals lying on the grass beside him and held them outto her. She coolly extended one of her feet. 

"It cannot bite you. Put zem on for me, your Excellency. "

WEST WIND DRIFT

He knelt and, slipping the sandals on one after the other, fastened thestraps over her bare insteps. 

"So, " she sighed. "Thank you. Good night, Ruthkin. No! I shall go homealone. There is nothing to be afraid of now on zis island, my dear. Theardent Fernandez is playing--what you call it?--pea-knuckles?--he isplaying pea-knuckles away off yonder on zat prison island, as he hasbeen playing for nearly a year. "

Little she knew of Fernandez!

Ruth and Percival walked around the corner of the porch with her, out ofsight of the others. 

"It was a perfectly ravishing dance, Olga, " said he. "If I live athousand years I shall never forget how beautiful it was. "

"You see?" cried Olga softly, pressing Ruth's hand. "Was I not right?"

"Men are very queer things, " said Ruth, with a curious sidelong glanceat her husband. Then she squeezed his arm tightly and went on witha little thrill in her voice: "Good night, Olga. Thank you for thelesson. "

"What's all this?" inquired Percival. 

"Nothing you would be interested in, my friend, " said Olga, with alittle laugh. She waved her hand airily as she moved swiftly away in thegloom. 

They watched her yellow figure fade into the starlit shadows. As theyturned to rejoin the others, Ruth said:

"I think you might have told her how beautiful she was, dear. " So muchfor the native perversity of woman, even when she is most content. 

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon the soft, warmpalm. It was a habit of his, --and she never failed to shiver in responseto the exquisite thrill. She drew a deep breath, and leaned a littlecloser to him. 

"Look up yonder, sweetheart, " he whispered. "Do you see the one star inall the heavens that shines the brightest? It is the only one I see whenI raise my eyes. The big, full star in the Southern Cross. The othersare dim, feeble little things preening themselves in reflected glory. That great, beautiful star at the foot of the Cross is all that I cansee. It's no use for me to look elsewhere. That star fills my vision. Its splendour fascinates me. "

She waited for him to go on. Her eyes were shining. But the analogy wascomplete. She laid her cheek against his and sighed tremulously. After amoment, they turned their heads and their lips met in a long, passionatekiss. 

"I should be content to stay on this dear little island for ever, sweetheart, " she murmured. "My whole world is here. "

He stroked her hair lovingly, and was silent for a long time. Then hesmiled his whimsical smile. 

"It's all right for you and me, dear, --but how about the futurePresident of the United States sleeping up there in his crib?"

She smiled up into his eyes. "It's a nuisance, isn't it?--having to stopand consider that we are parents as well as lovers. "

They rejoined the group on the porch. 

"I had a horrible dream last night, " said Peter Snipe, getting up andstretching himself. "That's why I'm staying up so late tonight. I hateto go to bed. "

"What was your dream, Peter?" asked Ruth. 

"Do you believe in 'em?"

"Only in day-dreams. "

"Well, I dreamed our little old ship was finished and had sailed at lastand for once our wireless plant up there began to get messages from thesea. I dreamed I was sitting up there with the operator. It was a dark, stormy night. The wireless began to crackle. He jumped up to see whatwas coming. He was getting messages from our own ship, away out thereon the ocean. She was calling for help. 'Sinking fast, --sinkingfast, --sinking fast. ' Over and over again, --just those two words. 'Gad, --it was so real, so terribly real, that the first thing I did thismorning was to walk down to see if the boat was still on the stocks. Shewas there, a long way from being finished, and--and, by gad, I had hardwork to keep from blubbering, I was so relieved. "

"It will take more than a dream to knock that ship to pieces, " saidPercival. "When she's ready for the water, there will not be a sturdiercraft afloat. Andrew Mott says she'll weather anything outside of theChina Sea. Don't look so distressed, Amy. Pete's a novelist. They neverdo anything but dream horrible dreams. Generally they go so far asto put them into print, and people read 'em and say they are wildlyimprobable, --especially if they have a happy ending. It's always thehappy ending that makes them improbable, --but popular. Isn't that so, Pete?"

"If we didn't give them a happy ending, they would refuse to recognizeus the next time they saw us on a bookseller's counter, " said Peter. "Well, I guess I'll be on my way. I've got a busy day tomorrow, settingup the Trigger Island Pioneer, --and as I belong to that almost extinctspecies known as the bachelor, I am forced to be my own alarm clock. Going my way, Abel?"

"Good night, Ruth, " said Landover. "Give the Lieutenant Governor a goodsmack for me, --and tell him he is still in my will. "

"Umph!" grunted Fitts. "I'd like to know what you've got to leave thelittle beggar. Your letter of credit?"

"Certainly not, " replied Landover. "Something worth while, Fittsy, myboy. I am making it now. It's going to be a hobby-horse, if I live longenough to finish it. Good night, Perce. 'Night, everybody. "

When the last of the company had departed, Ruth and Percival stood fora long time in silence, listening to the far-off thrumming of a Spanishguitar, their tranquil gaze fixed on the murky shadow that marked theline of trees along the shore, her head resting lightly against hisshoulder, his arm about her waist. 

"What are you thinking of, dear?" she asked at last. 

"Peter's dream, " he replied. "It has put an idea into my head. The daythat ship down there sails out to sea with her courageous little crew, Ishall start laying the keel for another just like her. "

Neither spoke for many seconds. Then she said, a deep, solemn note inher voice: "I understand, Perce. "

They went into the house. Later they stole tiptoe to the side of thecrib where slept the sturdy, sun-kissed babe. The two middle fingers ofa chubby hand were in his mouth. With one hand Percival shaded thepitch candle he had brought from the kitchen. She leaned over and gentlytouched the smooth, warm cheek. 

"I--I can't believe he is real, Perce, " she whispered. 

"He isn't, " whispered he. "He is something out of a fairy story. Nothingas wonderful as he is can possibly be real. "

THE END