The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1910-05-20

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one she occupied, what might be a
throne room, great dining hall.
mammoth kitchen, and one big room
that possibly was an observatory, but
which was most securely bolted, barred
and cemented shut. Even American
prowess dared not tamper with such
solidity of masonry.
Meta and Betty had finally accom-
plished species of pigeon dialect that
like Crusoe and his man Friday per-
mitted them to signify their wants and
dislikes but prohibited the dangerous
conversation of condolences and per-
sonal communicat ions unto which
women are so prone to fall! Betty had
given up the idea of the note in a bot
tie. the sensational wireless message
and such like methods of communica-
ton with the loved ones at home, and
those of the newspaper fraternity in
particular ever since she caught sight
of the pigeons. She surreptitiously
carved this message. Betty Lancey.
Africa" on the wing of many a poor
suffering bird and vainly tried to shoe
it briskly away in the direction that
she thought housed civilized people.
This carving was a work of perspiring
labor but it diverted Betty more sue
cessfully than anything else might
have done. This occupation amused
and exhilarated because it revolved
around the constantly diminishing
germ of Hope that SO was near to dy-
ing in Betty's bosom.
First of all, she had nothing to
scratch with but hairpin. And with
tropical sun, and sea voyaging, hair
pins had become scarce enough to be
valuable. Second, Meta was always
watching, and thirdly, you never could
finish bird at one sitting and it was
terrible to try to catch any of the
birds, and worse yet to get hold twice
in succession of the same bird you had
been working on last. frequently there
would be as many as three dozen birds,
half bedecked with Betty's carving,
hopping around at one time. Betty
held the thought that if one of these
birds should perchance be picked up it
might send people within a continent
of finding her.
There was something romantic about
living in this desert and swamp bound
lie
1t was more aggravating than anything
Betty could ever have imagined.
Worse than any city editor I know
starting out to play wrecking crew
with an entire ONCE" she commented.
grimly.
For an African rain In the central
part of that shadowy continent is not
rainstorm as we know it. The lakes,
the rivers, the sea itself seem to have
risen and to be descending in fiat lay
ers and sheets of the wettest wet that
ever mortal knew. Lightning in more
varieties than Betty had dreamed
round the grim old castle. and the two
lonely young girls loved the goat hard
er than ever.
Later they had an addition to their
family. A decrepit old lion. beast so
NANCY, worm eaten and toothless that
one longed in pity to kill him then and
there. crept in from the jungle one
cold, rain pelted night. He frightened
the two girls half to death at first
sight, then they both laughed heartily
at sight of his infirmities and took him
in and made him royalty welcome. He
expressed his qualification in croupy
roars that caused Betty to long to feed
him lard and sugar, the same as her
mother had given her when she was a
croupy, wheezy kiddie.
But as burglar alarm those roars
were the best of all inventions, as
Betty expressed it in the journal she
was pretending to keep
las perfectly proper property lion,
City Editor Burton is a peach"
Betty had named the lion city Edi-
tor Burton" after the one being in the
Inquirer Office whose very voice was
calculated to instantly remove the
scalp of any cub reporter whoever
sharpened pencil in newspaper Of
fee.
Between City Editor Burton and the
pigeons Betty found less opportunity
for worry than did Meta. Perhaps that
was because Tyoga had not told Betty
the same tale she had whispered that
hot morning into the awe-struck ears
Of Meta. The black girl knew Of the
danger threatening, and feared in ST.
lence.
So strong had grown the attachment
between Meta and Betty that the
young Nubian, who. truth to tell, spoke
English with rare perfection, had much,
ado to keep up their farce OF pigeon
English and to refrain from outpour-
ing her soul to the white skinned. but
now sadly tanned Betty.
CHAPTER XIII
Johnny Johnson and Larry Morris