The Mena weekly star., 1909-01-14


 here. Tide was we'll up today; but managed to get these all right with little diving. Only trouble, the skeets most ate me alive
 Miss Leslie glanced at her compan- ions dry clothing, and came back to the oysters themselves. These look very tempting. Do you like them raw?"
 Can't say like them much any way, as rule But If did, I wouldn't eat this mess raw
 "Yes?'
 This must be the dry season here, and the river is running mighty clear. Just the same it's nothing more than liquid malaria Wen not eat these oysters till they've been pasteurized."
 If the water is so dangerous. fear we will suffer before we can return" replied Miss Leslie, and she held up the flask.
 What" exclaimed Blake. Half gone already? That was Winthrope."
 He was very thirsty. Could we not boil a potfu of the river water?"
 Yes, when the ebb gets strong, if we run too dry. First, though. we'll make try for cocoanuts. Let's hit out for the nearest grove now The main thing is to keep moving"
 As he spoke. Blake caught up the pot and his club and started for the thorn clump. leaving the skin, togeth- xxfsfI h hn ho col f~,- Leslie to carry. Winthrope was wakened by touch of Blake's foot and all three were soon walking away from the seashore, just within the shady border of the mangrove wood.
 At the first fan-palm Blake stopped to gather number of leaves, for their palm-leaf hats were now cracked and broken little farther on a ruddy antelope. with lyrate horns, leaped out of the bush before them and dashed eff toward the river before Blake could string his bow. As If in mock cry of his lack of readiness, troupe of large green monkeys set up a wild chattering in tree above the party
 q say, Miss Jenny, do you think you can lug the pot, if we go slow? It isn't far now.
 Good for you, little woman That'll give me chance to shoot quick"
 They moved on again for a hundred yards or more; but though Blake kept a sharp lookout both above and below, he saw no game other than few small birds and pair of blue wood pigeons When he sought to creep up on the latter, they flew into the next tree. In following them. he came upon conical mound of hard clay. nearly four feet high.
 Hello; this must be one of those white ant-hills." he said, and he gave the mound a kick.
 Instantly q tiny object whirred up and struck him in the face.
 Wheel" he exclaimed. springing back and striking out "A hornet! No; its a bee!"
 Did it sting you?" cried Miss Les lie
 Sting? Keep back; there's lot more of 'em. Sting? Oh, no; he only hypodermicked me with a red-hot alarming needle, Shy around here. There's whole swarm of the little devils. and they're hopping mad. Hear 'em buzz,"
 But where is their hive?" asked Winthrope. as all three drew back be- hind the nearest bushes.
 Guess they've borrowed that ant hill" replied Blake, gingerly lingering the white lump which marked the spot where the bee had struck him.
 Wouldn't it be delightful if we had some honey?" exclaimed Miss Leslie.
 By love. that really wouldn't be half bad!" chimed in Winthrope.
 Maybe we can, Miss Jenny; only we'll need fire to tackle those buz- gers. Guess it'll be as we'll to let them cool off bit also. The cocoanuts are only little way ahead now. Here; give me the pot"
 They soon came to small grove of cocoanut palms, where Blake threw down his club and bow and handed his burning-glass to Miss Leslie.
 Here" he said; you and Win start a fire It's early yet, but I'm think ing we'll all be ready enough for oyster stew"
 How about the meat?" asked Miss Leslie.
 Keep that till later. Here goes for our dessert"
 Selecting one of the smaller palms. Blake spat on his hands, and began to climb the slender trunk. Aided by previous experiences, he mounted steadily to the top. The descent was made with even more care and steadi- ness. for he did not wish to tear the skin from his hands again.
 Now, Win. he said. as he neared the bottom and sprang down. leave the cooking to Miss Leslie, and husk some Of those nuts. You won't more'n have time 10 do it before the stew is ready"
 Winthrope's response was to draw out his penknife. Blake stretched himself at ease in the shade, but kept critical eye on his companions. Al though Winthrope's fingers trembled with weakness, he worked with pre- cision and rapidity that drew a grunt of approval from Blake. Presently Miss Leslie. who had been stirring the stew with a twig, threw in a little salt and drew the pot from the fire