Part 34 (1/2)

”Please don't speak of it--I mean, consider it that way,” he stammered.

”What I want to know is, where are we?”

Her reply was more distant. ”On an island, somewhere. It's uninhabited, I think.”

He could only echo in bewilderment: ”An island...! Uninhabited...!”

Dismay a.s.sailed him. He got up, after a little struggle overcoming the resistance of stiff and sore limbs, and stood with a hand on the coaming of the dismantled cat-boat, raking the island with an incredulous stare.

”But those houses--?”

”There's no one in any of them, that I could find.” She stirred from her place and offered him a hand. ”Please help me up.”

He turned eagerly, with a feeling of chagrin that she had needed to ask him. For an instant he had both her hands, warm and womanly, in his grasp, while she rose by his aid, and for an instant longer--possibly by way of reward. Then she disengaged them with gentle firmness.

She stood beside him so tall and fair, so serenely invested with the flawless dignity of her womanhood that he no longer thought of the incongruity of her grotesque garb.

”You've been up there?” he asked, far too keenly interested to scorn the self-evident.

She gave a comprehensive gesture, embracing the visible prospect. ”All over.... When I woke, I thought surely ... I went to see, found nothing living except the sheep and some chickens and turkeys in the farmyard.

Those nearer buildings--nothing there except desolation, ruin, and the smell of last year's fish. I think fishermen camp out here at times. And the farm-house--apparently it's ordinarily inhabited. Evidently the people have gone away for a visit somewhere. It gives the impression of being a home the year round. There isn't any boat--”

”No boat!”

”Not a sign of one, that I can find--except this wreck.” She indicated the cat-boat.

”But we can't do anything with this,” he expostulated.

The deep, wide break in its side placed it beyond consideration, even if it should prove possible to remedy its many other lacks.

”No. The people who live here must have a boat--I saw a mooring-buoy out there”--with a gesture toward the water. ”Of course. How else could they get away?”

”The question is, how we are to get away,” he grumbled, morose.

”You'll find the way,” she told him with quiet confidence.

”I! I'll find the way? How?”

”I don't know--only you must. There must be some way of signalling the mainland, some means of communication. Surely people wouldn't live here, cut off from all the World.... Perhaps we'll find something in the farm-house to tell us what to do. I didn't have much time to look round.

I wanted clothing, mostly--and found these awful things hanging behind the kitchen door. And then I wanted something to eat, and I found that--some bread, not too stale, and plenty of eggs in the hen-house....

And you--you must be famished!”

The reminder had an effect singularly distressing. Till then he had been much too thunderstruck by comprehension of their anomalous plight to think of himself. Now suddenly he was stabbed through and through with pangs of desperate hunger. He turned a little faint, was seized with a slight sensation of giddiness, at the thought of food, so that he was glad of the cat-boat for support.

”Oh, you are!” Compa.s.sion thrilled her tone. ”I'm so sorry. Forgive me for not thinking of it at once. Come--if you can walk.” She caught his hand as if to help him onward. ”It's not far, and I can fix you something quickly. Do come.”

”Oh, surely,” he a.s.sented, recovering. ”I am half starving--and then some. Only I didn't know it until you mentioned the fact.”

The girl relinquished his hand, but they were almost shoulder to shoulder as they plodded through the dry, yielding sand toward firmer ground.