Evening star., 1921-09-04

she said. But I'll see her through:
It's my duty. you know. and I didn't
take 1t from Miss Agnes"
YES" said some of the men, with
an air OF .relief from responsibility.
''she didn't take fishes proof-she'll
get through"
The stewardess moved away with
Mrs. Arturs to the brushwood house.
She did not say goodbye.
Mrs. Waite. losing all self-contro1.
flung herself about and screamed to
the stewardess to como back. Nobody
took any notice OF her. and she went
angrily into the women's house. alone.
"Tll be the next. I won't be the
next" she sobbed to herself. And then
l-"Canaille! Canaille! But will show
them!'
There were some afterward who
| said that the horrors Of that time
Waite's weak brain. And there were
others who said that she had never
been any madder than she always
Iswas-mad with vanity and love OF
! self.
In the brushwood house, beside tho
the sand: there was no furniture in
lthere-nothing but q mass Of soft
dried grass for bedding. and a hurri-
cane lantern to use in the long night.
A kerosene tin full Of water stood in
side the door. and a cocoanut shell
thurs' own cocoanut-shell lay at her
head. The stewardess was not going
| to lose any chances that she could
keep. Had not she got through with
the other case? She disinfected her
hands; she kept a wad Of grass over
her mouth and nose when attend
| ing to the patient. There was q
chance: she must not forget that.
To believe you will escape helps you
| to 1t.
then? Who would insist on caring for
her--who would lay down a life to
make her last few hours easier?
Some one would, she was certain. 1t
would be of no use for her to refuse;
the spirit Of martyrdom was abroad; /;
care for the sick and dying at any
| and every cost, held good. here on
the little lonely island of death, far
from human help. The hideous chain
! would be linked on and on, till 1t
closed round the last of all.
Sitting there on the sandy ground,
| under the dim. brown roof of the
brushwood house, with the half-con-
scious woman moaning and raving
beside her. the stewardess thought
and saw no end to it all. The day
wore on: red rays of sundown shot
through the low door. Mrs. Arthurs
complained feebly of pain; the stew
ardess lit a fire, and improvised a
pOuItlCe, pfOppeQ nef up on the De0
of grass, raised her when she sank
and stifed; held drink to her lips
Moskuitoes tormented them-they had
been troublesome all the time on the
island. The stewardess famed them
off with a frond of palm.
X
iRYE-AND-BYE the patient seemed
easier. and the other woman.
making a rough paper fan like foolish
| Mrs. Waite's. to keep away the mos
| quito horde more effectively. thought
she would go over to the lamp and
| read a bit of paper before it was ut
terly crumpled. Reading matter was
scarce upon the island. and every bit
/ of print had its value.
The newspaper was compare lively
| fresh: she had not read the kilograms
! it contained, and she found them in
teresting. Anything was welcome, to
relieve ones mind a little. here in
this dim, windy shed, with the sea
, and the night birds crying outside.
and the lantern swinging on its nail
at her elbow.
Among the kilograms was one from
| the south polar rescue expedition 1t
! told the tale of the men who had
been found too late: Of the long his
tory of self-sacrificinE and bravery
left behind in their diaries: of one
who wrote, planned. considered, to the
very end of all. with death sitting at
his side as he held the pen: of one
! who went out alone into the snow, Civ