The herald., 1897-09-26
LOST BOY ON A
DESERT ISLAND.
True Story of the Terrible
Experiences Of a Ven
tureSome Lad.

FroDaDly every boy who has read the
tale OF Robinson Crusoe has wished that
he might have a similar experience.
There was just such a boy out ON the
Pacific Coast. His name was Kenneth
Powell, and he lived in Los Angeles,
Cal. Now he hasn't the slightest desire
to initiate Crusoe, and thereby hangs a
tale.
Lying off the coast of Southern Cali
fornia are two islands-Santa Catalina
and San Clemente. The former, which
lies twenty miles off the mainland, be-
longs to the Banning Company, and il
popular summer resort. The latter is
Fowned by the Government, and is twen-
ty miles farther out to sea; it's sole resi-
dent is old Tom Gallagher. who has lived
there ever siAce the war-nearly forty
years.
"Old Gallagher" as he is called, is an
interesting character. He does not know
the year Of his birth, but, judging from
his snowy hair and beard, it must have
been somewhere in the first quarter Of
the present century. Gallagher tends
the herds Of sheep which roam over the
island and which are owned by a Los
Angeles company. Frequently he sees
no human being for five months at a
time. Well, Kenneth had once visited
San Clemente with his father, and ever
after he was possessed with a desire to
initiate old Gallagher, and live in a rude,
white-washed cabin alone on an island.
Every summer Kenneth went to Cata-
lima Island with his parents to spend his
vacation.
While the coast of the island is beauti-
ful and attractive, with it's numerous
canyons opening out upon the sea, MAX
ing covers where multitude of campers
pitch their tents, the interior is wild and
rocky. Eagles build their nests on the
beetling cliffs, wild goats infest the
mountains, and timid quail dart through
the sage brush. Springs of water are
scarce, and known only to old guides
who have frequented the trails for years.
Great beds Of cactus abound, and these,
with the wild sage, form the only vege-
tation. The topography Of the island is
such that, once bewildered, the stranger
finds himself in perfect labyrinth, and
it is well nigh impossible to find ones
way back to the trails without the aid
Of a compass.
Kenneth had once enjoyed trip across
the island, distance Of some ten or
twelve miles, in company with his father
and party of gentlemen under the guild
ance of Mexican Joe. They rode burros,
and it was great sport. About midway
across the island is stretch of level
country Of two miles or more, known as
Middle Ranch. Here is pretty stream
IF fresh mountain water, with tall willow
trees dropping over it and near by is an
old, deserted cabin, once inhabited by
sheep herders. Kenneth had never for
gotten the delights of this trip, and it
had been the dream of his life to repeat
it-alone-and dwell in that old cabin
like Robinson Crusoe, shooting quails
and goats and living on cactus fruit and
1 shell fish. So one day he slipped quietly
away from Avalon, where his parents
were stopping, and started up the trail.
He took with him no supplies, not even
J canteen of water, for he thought he
would reach the cabin and stream long
before night. AS he mounted higher and
higher the little town Of Avalon gradual
ly faded away to mere toy village, and
then, by an abrupt turn in the trail, was
lost entirely to view. Then Kenneth felt
free indeed, and sat down to fan his
heated face with his straw hat; for the
sun shone fercely on the barren noun
| tanside. His pleasant meditations were
soon broken, however. by the warning