The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1909-02-04

appear until nightfall; though at in
tervals Miss Leslie had heard his step
as he came up the ravine with his
loads OF thorn-brush.
This course of action became tie
routine for the following ten days. II
was broken only by three incidents
all relating to the important matter OF
food supply. Winthrope had soon
tired of broth, and showed such an in
satiable craving for cocoanut milk
that the stock on hand had become
exhausted within the week.
The day after, Blake took the rope
ladder, as he called the tangle of
knOtted creepers, and went off towards
the north end of the cleft When he
returned. a little before dark. the
lower part of his trousers was torn to
shreds, and the palms of his hands
We're blistered and raw; but he carried
a heavy load of cocoanuts. After a
vain attempt to climb the giant palms
on the far side of the river, he had
found another grove near at hand in
the little plain, and had succeeded in
reaching the tops of two of the
smaller palms.
Under his directions, Miss Leslie
clarified bowl Of bird fat-goose-
grease, Blake called it-and dressed
his hands. Yet even with the band
bark and the handkerchiefs, he was
unable to handle the thorn-brush the
following day. Unfortunately for him,
he was not content to sit idle. During
the night he had cut bamboo fishing
pole and heightened Miss Leslie's line
of plated cocoanut-fber with long
catgut leader In the afternoon he
completed his outfit with a hairpin
hook and piece of halfdried meat.
He was back an hour earlier than
usual, and he brought with hin. Il
dozen or more fair-sized fish His
mouth was watering over the prospec-
tive feast, and Miss Leslie showed her
self hardly less eager for a change
from their monotonous diet. AS the
fish were already dressed, she raked
up the Goals and quickly contrived a
grill of green bamboos.
When the odor of the broiling fish
spread about in the still air, even Win
thrope shifted and turned over, while
Blake watched the crisping delicacies
with ravenous look. Unable to re-
strain himself, he caught up the
smallest fish, half cooked. and bolted
it down with such haste that he burnt
his mouth. He ran over to the spring
for drink, and Winthrope cackled
derisively.
Miss Leslie was too absorbed in her
cooking to observe the result of
Biake's greatness. She had turned
the fish for the last time, and was
about to lift them eff the fire, when
Blake came running back, and sent
grill and all flying with violent kick.
Salt" he where's the
salt? I'm poisoned"
"Poisoned?"
Poison fish. Don't eat! Cod
Where's the salt?"
The girl stared at him. His agony
was so great that beads of sweat were
rolling down his face He writhed, and
stretched out quivering hand-"Salt,
quick,-warm water-salt!"
But there's none left. You remem-
Der, yesterday"
Cod" groaned Blake, and for a
moment he sank down, overcome by
a racking CONFUSION. Then his jaw
closed like a bulldogs, and grittng his
teeth with the effort, he staggered up
and rushed off down the cleft.
Stop! stop, Mr.. Blake! Where are
you going" screamed the girl.
She started to run after him, but
was halted by an outburst of delirious
laughter. Winthrope was sitting up
right and waving his rblotched
hands-"Hi, hi! look at i'm run! Els
got watll do for i'm! Run, you swine;
you"
There followed a torrent Of cockney
abuse so foul that Miss Leslie blushed
scarlet with shame as she sought to
quiet him. But the excitement had so
heightened his fever that he was in a
raving delirium. 1t was close upon
midnight before his temperature fell,
and he sank into a death-lke torpor.
In her ignorance, she supposed that he
has fallen asleep.
Her relief was short-lived, for soon
she remembered Blake. She could see
him lying beside the pool or out on the
bare plain, his resOlute eyes cold and
CLASSY, his powerful body contorted in
the death agony. The vision filled her
with dismay. With all his coarseness,
the man had showed himself so re-
sourceful, so indomitable, that when
she sought to dwell upon her reasons
to fear him, she found herself admir-
ing his virile manlness. He might be
a brute but he did not belong among
the jackals and hyenas. Indeed, as
she called to mind his strong face and
frank, blunt speech she all but disbe-
lieved what her own ears had heard.
And anyway without his aid, what
should she do? Winthrope had already
become as weak as child. The
emaciation of his jaundiced features
was a mockery Of their former plump
ness. Blake had said that the fever
might run on for another week, and
that even If Winthrope recovered. he
would probably be helpless for several
DAYS besides