Part 21 (1/2)
”Come on,” whispered Neale. ”I want to show you my hens.”
At that statement Ruth began to laugh again, but Agnes scrambled into her outer clothing, greatly excited by what Neale had promised her.
CHAPTER XV
ADVENTURES OF THE CASTAWAYS
”Now shus.h.!.+ And listen!” whispered Neale, when he grabbed Agnes' wrist just outside the girls' tent.
”What is the matter with you?” she demanded.
”If you don't keep still,” Neale warned her, ”you'll miss seeing my flock of chickabiddies.”
”You are fooling, Neale O'Neil. You know you are,” she murmured.
”You come on, and keep still,” he said, still dragging her by the wrist.
”Don't even whisper. The fog is rising slowly and the dawn will soon appear. My flock is scary in the daylight--”
”Oh, pshaw!” muttered Agnes. ”You just sound silly.”
”I'm not as silly as a girl of your age must be not even to imagine what kind of eggs those were,” chuckled Neale.
”I knew there was a trick in it!”
”Shus.h.!.+” he warned her again. ”If you don't mind frightening my flock, don't wake up everybody else in the camp.”
She was silent when they came to the edge of the palm grove. It was already growing light over the sea, and the ma.s.s of fog that had covered everything during the night was lifting and rolling back upon itself.
Something moved on the sand not twenty feet from where the girl and boy stood.
”Oh! What is that?” queried Agnes.
”Hear 'em?” said Neale. ”That shuffling sound? I bet there are a hundred of 'em on this sh.o.r.e.”
”Neale O'Neil! What does it mean?” gasped the girl, in wonder.
”It means that we are on one of the Tortugas. We must be. And this desert strand is populous at night, sure enough.”
”Turtles!” shrieked Agnes.
At once the sliding and shuffling noise increased. The first beams of the sun coming up out of the eastern ocean began to separate the strands of mist. The boy and girl peered earnestly out upon the open sh.o.r.e.
”There's one!” gasped Agnes. ”A big fellow! Wish we could catch it to show to the children, Neale.”
”I mean to catch it,” declared Neale, running down from the cocoanut grove, a stick in his hand. ”And more than one.”
”Going to make it lay more eggs?” giggled Agnes, keeping step with him.
”My dear girl! That is fresh meat for us. Fish and clams are all right.
But here is the nicest kind of meat-better than chicken. And nouris.h.i.+ng fat. My flock not only will supply us with eggs at this season of the year, but the turtle will give us ragout and soup beyond compare.”