text: ILUM77?/! nOJi<3 3Y RAY WALTERS.1* **T jJj&L A>% MWWf HC "'CLUCK *CO / f&M 1^ T • *• -r v*l <3. CHAPTER 1.--The story opens with the wreck of the steamer on which Miss Barrymore, an American heiress, was passing, three were tossed upon an unknown and wore the only ones who were drowned. Blake recovered from a sudden stupor. CHAPTER II Blake, shunned on the kecavise of his roughness, became a victim of the helpless pair, was suing for the hand of Miss Blake. He started to swim back to the Alto to recover what was due to his skill. CHAPTER III Blake returned safely through the ship to the Alto to recover what was due to his skill. Their first meal was a dead fish. CHAPTER IV The trio started a ten-mile hike for higher land. Thirst at kecked them. Blake was compelled to hurry Miss Blake on account of weariness. He taunted Winthrope. CHAPTER V.—They entered the inn. That night was passed roosting high a tree. CHAPTER VI —The next morning they descended to the open again. The construction hats to shield themselves from the sun. They... He neared the scene, the only proper food Miss Leslie showed a liking for Blake, but despite his roughness. CHAPTER VII.—Leaving by Blake, they established a home in some cliffs. Blake found a fresh water spring. CHAPTER VIII.—Leaving by Blake, they planned their campaign. CHAPTER VIII.—Leaving by Blake, they started a jungle fire, killing a large lizard and smothering several subs. CHAPTER X.—Tn the leopard’s cavern they built a small home. They gained the cliffs by burning the bottom of a tree until it fell against the heights. CHAPTER Xl.—The trio secured eggs from the cliffs. Miss Leslie’s white skirt was derided upon as a signal. CHAPTER X IT.-Miss Leslie made a dress from the leopard skin. Blake’s of forts to kill antelopes failed. CHAPTER XllT.—Overhearing a con vacation between Hlak- and Winthrope. Mis* Leslie became frightened. CHA 1 TKi. XI \ . Blake was poisoned by a fish. Jackals attacked the camp that Bight, but were driven off by Gene vleve. Blake returned, after nearly dv irtff- CHAPTER XV.—B!ak° C on*r"tr.-l animal trap. It killed' a hyena. “ an CHAPTER XVI.—On a tour the trio dis covered honey and oysters CHAPTER XVII. The Serpent Strikes. Winthrope came up with the others, they were ’ * gathering green leaves to throw on the fire which was blazing close beside the ant-hill. “Oet a move on you!" called Blake. \uu re slow. Grab a bunch of leaves, and get into the suioke, if you don't want to be stung.” Winthrope neither gathered acv leaves nor hurried himself, until he was visited bv a highly irritated bee. Then he obtyed with alacrity. Blake was far too intent on other matters tc heed the Englishman. Leaping in and out of the thick of the smoke, he pounded the ant-hill with his club, un til he had broken a gaping hole into the cavity. The smoke, pouring into the hive, made short work of the bees that had not already been suffocated. Although the antelope skin was drawn into the shape of a sack, both it and the pot were filled to overflowing with honey, and there were still more combs left than the three could eat. Blake caught Winthrope smiling with satisfaction as he licked his fingers. "What’s the matter with my expedition now, old man?" he demanded. "I am sure of that. Miss Genevieve. I could digest anything today. I’m fairly ravenous." "All the more reason to be careful," rejoined Blake. "I guess, though, what we’ve had will do no harm. We’ll let it settle a bit, here in the shade, and then hit the home trail." "Could we not first go to the river, Mr. Blake? My hands are dreadfully sticky." "Win will take you. It’s only a little way to the bank here and there’s got much underbrush." "If you think it’s quite safe—" remarked Winthrope. "It’s safe enough. Go on. You’ll see the river in half a minute. Only thing, you’d better watch out for alligators." "I believe that—er—properly speaking, these are crocodiles." "You don’t say! Heap of difference it will." Make if one gets you." Miss Leslie caught Winthrope’s eye He turned on his heel, and led the way for her through the first thicket. Beyond this they came to a little glade Which ran through to the river. When They reached the bank, they stepped Cautiously down the muddy slope, and Bathed their hands in the clear water. As Miss Leslie rose, Winthrope bent Over and began to drink. "Oh, Mr. Winthrope!" she exclaimed; "please don't! In your weak condition, I'm so afraid —" "Do not alarm yourself. I am perfectly well, and I am quite as competent to judge what is good for me as your countryman." "Mr. Winthrope, I am thinking only at your own good." Winthrope took another deep draught, rinsed his fingers fastidiously, and arose. "My dear Miss Genevieve," he observed, "a woman looks at these matters in such a different light from a man. But you should know that there are some things a gentleman cannot tolerate." "You were welcome to all the water in the flask. Surely with that you could have waited, if only to please me." "Ah, if you put it that way, I must beg pardon. Anything to please you. I'm sure! Pray forgive me, and forget the incident. It is now past." "I hope so!" she murmured; but her heart sank as she glanced at his salve. She recalled his languid, feeble movements. Piqued by her look, Winthrope started back through the glade. Miss Leslie was turning to follow, when she caught sight of a gorgeous crimson blossom under the nearest tree. It was the first flower she had seen since being shipwrecked. She uttered a little cry of delight, and ran to pluck the blossom. Winthrop, glancing about at her exclamation, saw her stoop over the flower — and in the same instant he saw a huge, vivid coil, all black and green and yellow, flash up out of the bedded leaves and strike against the girl. She staggered back, screaming with horror, yet seemed unable to run. Winthrop swung up his stick, and dashed across the glade toward her. “What is it — a snake?” he cried. The girl did not seem to hear him. She had ceased screaming, and stood rigid with fright, glaring down at the ground before her. In a moment Winthrop was near enough to make out the brilliant glistening body, now extended full length in the grass. It was nearly five feet long and thick as his thigh. Another step, and he saw the hideous triangular head, lifted a few inches on the thick neck. The cold eyes were fixed upon the girl in a malignant, deadly stare. “Snake! snake!” he yelled, and thrust his cane at the reptile's tail. Again came a flashing leap of the beautiful ornate coil, and the stick was struck from Winthrop’s hand. He danced backward, wild with excitement. “Snake!—Hi, Blake! monster! Run, Miss Leslie! I’ll hold him— I’ll get another stick!” He darted aside to catch up a branch, and then ran in and struck boldly at the adder, which reared hissing to meet him. But the blow fell short, and the rotten wood shattered on the ground. Again Winthrop thrope ran aside for a stick. There was none near, and as he paused to glance about, Blake came sprinting down the glade. "Where?" he shouted. "There —Hi! look out! You’ll be on him!" Blake stopped short, harely beyond striking distance of the hissing reptile. "Wow!" he yelled. "Puff adder! I'll fix him." He leaped back, and thrust his bow at the snake. The challenge was met by a vicious lunge. Even where he stood Winthrope heard the thud of the roptilo's head upon the ground. "Now, once more, tootsie!" mocked Blake, swinging up his club. Again the adder struck at the bow tip, more viciously than before. With the flash of the stroke, Blake's right foot thrust forward, and his club came down with all the drive of his sinewy arm behind it. The blow fell across the thickest part of the adder's outstretched body. "Told you so! See him wiggle!" shouted Blake. "Broke his back, first lick— What's the matter, Miss Jenny? He can't do anything now." Miss Leslie did not answer. She stood rigid, her face ashy-gray, her dilated eyes fixed upon the writhing, hissing adder. "I think the snake struck her!" gasped Winthrope, suddenly overcome with horror. "God!" cried Blake. He dropped his club, and rushed to the girl. In a moment he had knelt before and flung up her leopard skin skirt. Her stockings ripped to shreds in his frantic grasp. There, a little below her right knee, was a tiny, red wound. Blake put his lips to it, and sucked with fierce energy. Then the girl found her voice. Go away—go away! How dare you!” she cried, as her face flushed scarlet. Blake turned, spat, and burst out with a loud demand of Winthrope: “Quick! the little knife—I'll have to scratch it! Ten times worse than a rat tlesnake—Lord! you're slow —I'll use mine!” “Let go of me—let go! What do you mean, sir?” cried the girl, struggling to free herself. “Hold still, you little fool!” he shouted. “It's death—sure death, if I don't get the poison from that bite!” “T'm not bitten—Let go. I say! It struck in the fold of my skirt.” “For God's sake, Jenny, don’t lie! It's certain death! I saw the mark—” “That was a thorn. I drew it out an hour ago." Blake looked up into her hazel eyes. They were blazing with indignant scorn. He freed her, and rose with clumsy slowness. Again he glanced at her quivering, scarlet face, only to look away with a sheepish expression. “I guess you think I’m just a damned meddlesome idiot,” he muttered. She did not answer. He stood for a little, rubbing a finger across his sun-blistered lips. Suddenly he stopped and looked at the finger. It was streaked with blood. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t stop to think of that! It's just as well for me. Miss Jenny, that wasn’t an adder bite. A little poison on my sore lip would have done for me. Ten to one, we'd both have turned up our toes at the same time. Of course, though, that would be nothing to you.” Miss Leslie put her hands before her face and burst into hysterical weeping. Blake looked around, far more alarmed than when facing the adder. “Here, you blooming lud!” he said. Shouted; “take the lady away, and be quick about it. She'll go dotty if she sees any more snake stunts. Clear out with her, while I smash the wriggler.” Winthrop, who had been staring fixedly at the beautiful coloring and loathsome form of the writhing adder, started at Blake’s harsh command as though struck. “I—cr—to be sure,” he stammered, and darting around to the hysterical girl, he took her arm and hurried her away up the glade. They had gone several paces when Blake came running up behind them. Winthrop looked back with a glance of inquiry. Blake shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. "Give me your cigarette case. I’ve thought of something— Hold on; take out the cigarettes. Smoke them. If you like.” Case in hand. Blake returned to the wounded girl, and picked up his club. A second smashing blow would have ended the matter at once; but Blake did not strike. Insisted, he pointed with his club until he managed to pin down the venomous head. The club lay across the monster’s neck, and he held it fast with the pressure of his foot. When, half an hour later, he wiped his knife on a wisp of grass and stood up, the cigarette case contained over a tablespoonful of a crystalline liquid. He peered in at it, his heavy jaw thrust out, his eyes glowing with savage elation. "Talk about your meat trusts and Winchesters," he exulted; "here’s a whole carload of beef in this little box—enough dope to morgue a herd of steers. Good God, though, that was a close shave for her!" His face sobered, and he stood for several moments staring thoughtfully into a space. Then his gaze chanced to fall upon the great crimson blossom which had so Nearly lured the girl to her death. “Hello!” he exclaimed; “that’s an amaryllis. Wonder if she wasn’t coming to pick it —” He snapped shut the lid of the cigarette case, thrust it carefully into his shirt pocket, and stepped forward to pluck the flower. "Makes a fellow feel like a kid; but maybe it’ll make her feel less sore at me." He stood gazing at the flower for several moments, his eyes aglow with a soft blue light. "Whew!" he sighed; “if only— But what’s the use? She’s way out of my class — a rough brute like me! All the same, it’s up to me to take care of her. She can’t keep me from being her friend—and she sure can’t object to my picking flowers for her." Amaryllis in hand, he gathered up his bow and club. Then he paused to study the skin of the decapitatedadder. The inspection ended with a shake of his head. "Better not, Thomas. It would make a dandy quiver; but then, it might get on her nerves." When he came to the ant-hill, he found companions and honey alike gone. He went on to the coconuts. There he came upon Winthrope stretched flat beside the skin of honey. Miss Alice was seated a little way beyond, nervously bending a palm-leaf into shape for a hat. "I say, Blake," drawled Winthrope, "you’ve been a deuced long time in coming. It was no end of a task to lug the honey—" Blake brushed past without replying, and went on until he stood before the girl. As she glanced up at him, he held out the crimson blossom. "Thought you might like posies," he said, in a hesitating voice. Instead of taking the flower, she drew back with a gesture of repulsion. "Oh, take it away!" she exclaimed. "Catch me making a fool of myself again!" he growled. "I did not mean it that way— really I didn't, Mr. Blake. It was the thought of that awful snake." But Blake, cut to the quick, had timed away far too angry to heed what she said. He stopped short beside the Englishman; but only to sling the skin of honey upon his back. The load was by no means a light one, even for his strength. Yet he caught up the heavy pot as well, and made off across the plain at a pace which the others could not hope to equal. As Winthrope rose and came forward to join Miss Leslie, he looked about closely for the bruised flower it was nowhere in sight. "Er—beg pardon, Miss Genevieve, but did not like to drop the bloom — flower — blossom somewhere about here?" "Perhaps he did," replied Miss Leslie. She spoke with studied indifference. "I —ah—saw the fellow exhibit his impudence." "Yes?” "You know, I think it high time the bounder is taken down a peg." "Ah, indeed! Then why do you not try it?" "Miss Genevieve! you know that at present I am physically so much his inferior—" "How about mentally?" Though the girl’s eyes were veiled by their lashes, she saw Winthrope cast after Blake a look that seemed to her almost fiercely vindictive. "Well?" she said, smiling, but watching him closely. Mentally!—We’ll soon see about that!" he muttered. "I must say..." Genevieve, it strikes me as deuced odd, you know, to hear you speak so pleasantly of a person who—not to mention past occurrences—has today, with the most shocking disregard of—decency—" "Stop!—stop this instant!" screamed the girl, her nerves overwrought. Winthrop smiled with complacent assurance. “My dear young lady,” he drawled, “allow me to repeat; ‘All is fair in love and war.’ Believe me, I love you most ardently.” “No gentleman would press his suit at such a time as this!” “Really now, I fancy I have always commended myself as a gentleman—” “A trifle too much so, truth to say!” she retorted. “Ah, indeed. However, this is now quite another matter. Has it not occurred to you, my dear, that this entire experience of ours since that beastly storm is rather—er—compromising?” "You—you dare say such a thing! I’ll go this instant and tell Mr. Blake! I’ll—” "Begging your pardon, madam —but are you prepared to marry that barbarous clodhopper?” "Marry? What do you mean, sir?" “Precisely that. It is a question of marriage, if you'll pardon me. And, you see, I have myself, that when it comes to the point, it will not be Blake, but myself—” “Ah, indeed! And if I should prefer neither of you?" “Begging your pardon—I fancy you will honor me with your hand, dear. For one thing, you admit that I am a gentleman.” "Oh, indeed!” "One moment, please! I am trying to intimate to you, as delicately as possible, how—er—embarrassing you would find it to have these Little occurrences—above all, today’s—noised abroad to the vulgar crowd, or even among your friends—” “What do you mean? What do you want?” cried the girl, staring at him with a deepening fear in her bewildered eyes. “Believe me, my dear, it grieves me to so perturb you; but—er—love must have its way, you know.” "You forget. There is Mr. Blake.” “Ah, to be sure! But really now, you would not ask, or even permit him to murder me; and one is not legally bound, you know, to observe promises—a pledge of silence, for example—when extorted under duress, under violence, you know.” Miss Leslie looked the Englishman up and down, her brown eyes sparkling with quick-returning anger. He met her scorn with a smile of smug complacency. “Cad!” she cried, and turning her back upon him, she set out across the plain, after Blake. CHAPTER XVIII. The Eavesdropper Caught. VEN had it not been for her doubts of Blake, the girl’s modesty would have caused her to think twice before repeating to him the Englishman's insulting proposal. While she yet hesitated and delayed, Winthrope came down with a second attack of fever. Blake, who until then had held himself sullenly apart from him as well as from Miss Leslie, at once softened to a gentler or, at least, to a more considerate mood. Though his speech and bearing continued morose, he took upon himself all the duties of night nurse, besides working and foraging several hours each day. Much to Miss Leslie's surprise, she found herself tending the invalid through the daytime almost as though nothing had happened. But everything about this wild and perilous life was so strange and unnatural to her that “he found herself accepting the most unconventional relations as a regular consequence of the situation. She was feverishly eager for anything that might occupy her mind; for she felt that to brood over the future might mean madness. The mere thought of the possibilities was far too terrifying to be calmly dwelt upon. Though slight, there had been some little comfort in the belief that she could rely on Winthrope. But now she was left alone with her doubt and dread. Even if she had nothing to fear from Blake, there were all the savage dangers of the coast, and behind those, far worse, the fever. Meantime, Blake went about his share of the camp work, gruff and silent, but with the usual concrete results. He brought load after load of fresh coconuts, and took great pains to hunt out the deliciously flavored eggs of the frigate birds to tempt Winthrope’s failing appetite. When Miss Leslie suggested that beef juice would be much better for the invalid than broth, he went out immediately in search of a gum-bearing tree, and that night, after heating a small quantity of gum in the cigarette case with theadder poison, he spent hours replacing his arrowheads with small barbed tips that could be loosened from their sockets by a slight pull. A little before dawn he dipped two of his new arrow heads in the sticks contents of the cigarette case, fitted them carefully to their shafts and sto!" away down the cleft. Dawn found him crouched low In the grass where the overflow from the pool ran out into the plain along its little channel. He could see large forms moving away from him; then came the flood of crim son light, and he made out that the figures were a drove of huge eland. His eyes flashed with eagerness. It was a long shot; but he knew that :io more was required than to pierce the skin on any part of his quarry’s body. He put his fingers between his teeth and sent out a piercing whistle. It was a trick he had tried more than once on deer and pronghorn antelope. As he expected, the eland halted and swung half around. Their ox-like sides presented a mark hard to miss. He rose and shot as they were wheeling to fly. Before he could fit his second arrow to the string the whole herd wpre running off at a lumbering gallop. He lowered his bow and walked after the animals, smiling with grim anticipation. He had seen his arrow strike against the side of the young bill! at which he had aimed. A little beyond where the bull stood he came upon the headless shaft of his arrow. As he stooped and caught it up he saw one of the fleeing animals fall. When he came up with the dead bull his first aet was to recover his arrow-tip and cut out the flesh around the wound. Provided only with his weak-bladed knife, he found it no easy task to butcher so large a beast. Though he had now acquired considerable dexterity in the art, noon had passed before he brought the first load of meat up the cleft. So great was the abundance of meat that Blake worked all the remainder of the day and all night stringing the flesh on the curing rucks, and Miss Lafe tried out pot after pot of fat and tallow, until every spare vessel was filled and she had to resort to a hollow in the rock beside the spring. Blake promised to make more pots as soon as he could fetch the clay, but he had first to dress the eland hide and prepare a new stock of thread and cord from parts of the animal which he was careful not to let her see. Whatever their concern for the future — and even Blake's was keen and bitter — the party, as a party, for the time being might have been considered extremely fortunate. They had a shelter secure alike from the weather and from wild beasts; an abundance of nutritious food, and, as material for clothing, the bushbuck, hyena andeland hides. To obtain more skins and more meat, Blake now knew would be a simple matter so long as he had enough poison left, in the cigarette case to moisten the tips of his arrows. Even Winthrope's relapse proved far less serious than might reasonably have been expected. The fever soon left him and within a few days he regained strength enough to care for himself. Here, however, much to Blake’s perplexity and concern, his progress seemed to stop, and all Blake's urging could do no more than cause him to move languidly from one shady spot to another. He would receive Blake’s orders with a smile and a drawling “Yas, to be sure!”—and then absolutely ignore the matter. Only in two ways did the invalid exhibit any signs of energy. He could and did pat with a heartiness little short of that shown by Blake and he would insist upon seeking opportunities to cross his attentions upon Miss Iyeslie. He was careful to scold all offensive remarks; yet the veriest commonplace from his lips was now an offense to the girl. While he needed her as nurse, she had endured his talk as part of her duty. But now she felt that she could no longer do so. Taking advantage of a time when the Englishman was, as she supposed, enjoying a noonday siesta down towards the barricade, she went to meet Blake who had been up on the cliff for eggs. "Hello!" he sang out, as he swung down the tree, one hand gripping the clay pot in which he had gathered the eggs. "What you doing out in the sun? Get into the shade," she stepped into the shade and waited until he had limbed down the pile of stones which he had gathered. It had built for steps at the foot of the tree. "Mr. Blake," she began, "could not I do this work—gather the eggs?" "You could, if I'd let you, Miss Jenny. But it strikes me you've got quite enough to do. Tell you the truth. I'd like to make Win take it in hand again. But all my cussing won't budge him an inch, and, you know, when it comes to the rub, I couldn't wallop a fellow who can hardly stand up." "Is he really so weak?" she murmured. "Well, you know how— Say, you don't mean that you think he's shamming?" "I did not say that I thought so. Mr. Blake." Blake. I do not care to talk about him. What I wish is that you will let me attend to this work.” “Couldn't think of it, Miss Jenn? You're already doing your share.” “Mr. Blake—if you must know, I wish to have a place where I must and be apart—alone.” Blake scowled. “Alone with that dude! He'd soon find enough strength to climb up with you on the cliff.” “I—ah—Mr. Blake, would he be apt to follow me, if I told you distinctly I should rather be alone?” "Would he? Well, I should rather guess not!” cried Blake, making no attempt to conceal his delight. “I’ll give him a hint that’ll make his hair curl. From now on, nobody climbs up this tree but you, without first asking your permission.” "Thank you, Mr. Blake! You are very kind.” "Kind to let you do more work! But say, I'll help out all I can on the other work. You know, Miss Jenny—a rough fellow like me don’t know how to say it, but he can think it just the same—I’d do anything in the world for you!” As he spoke, he held out his rough, powerful hand. She shrank back a little and caught her breath in sudden fright. But when she made her steady gaze, her fear left her as she had come. She impulsively thrust out her hand and He seized it, a grip that brought the tears to her eyes. "Vl"s Jenny! Miss Jenny!" he murmured, utterly unconscious that he was hurting her, "you know now that I'm your friend, Miss Jenny!" "Yes, Mr. Blake," she answered, blushing and drooping her hand free. "I believe you are a friend—I believe I can trust you." "You can, by—Jimmy! But say," he continued, blundering with dense stupidity, "do you really mean that? Can you forgive me for being so confounded meddlesome the other day after the snake—" He stopped short, for upon the instant she was facing him, as on that eventful day, scarlet with shame and anger. "How dare you speak of it?" she cried. "You're—you're not a gentleman!" Before he could reply she turned and left him, walking rapidly and with her head held high. Blake stared after her in bewilderment. "Well, what in—what in thunder have I done now?" he exclaimed. "Ladies are certainly mighty funny! To go off at a touch—and just when I thought we were going to be chums! But then, of course, I’ve the whole thing to learn about nice girls—like her!" "I—ah—must certainly agree with you there, Blake," drawled Winthrop, from beside the nearest bush. Blake turned upon him with savage fury: "You dirty sneak!—you gentleman! You’ve been eavesdropping!" The Englishman's yellow face paled to a smile. Allow mottled gray. He had seen the same look in Blake’s eyes twice before, and this time Blake was far more angry. TO BE CONTINUED. Heart and Brain. The “art that husbands a desire to “tee” with imaginary enemies is the best of unhappiness; and the brain strives to conceive a means of revolution for a fancied wrong is abode of misery.—Sunday Magazine. Golden Silence. I think the first virtue is to run the tongue; his approaches nearest the gods who know how to be silent even when he is in the right.—Cato. As Raby Understood It. Little Ruth had never been to the school before, and came home wide-eyed and excited to relate his adventures to his mother. After giving a flattering account of his father's teachings, he said: “And she told me to learn the possum's creed.” Always the Shortest. Edgeworth: A straight one is the shortest in morals as in mathematics. 