, old top?" he inquired
jovially of Frank.

Frank did not answer.

In point of fact they did not "fix" the women that night, owing to the
simple reason that they found the camp deserted--not a sign of woman or
child in sight or hearing.

"Well, there's one thing about it," Ralph said on their way back to the
New Camp the next morning, "you can always beat any woman's game by just
ignoring it. They can stand anything but not being noticed. Now our play
is to do nothing and say nothing. They're on this island somewhere. They
can't walk off it, and they can't swim off it, and they can't fly off
it. They may stay away for day or more or possibly two. By the end of
week they'll certainly be starved out. And they'll be longing for our
society. We want to keep right at work as if nothing had happened. Let
them go and come as they please. But we take no notice--see! We've done
that once before and we can do it again. When they come home, they'll
be a pretty tired-out, hungry, discouraged gang of girls. I bet we never
hear another word out of them on this subject."

The men worked as usual the whole morning; but they talked less. They
were visibly preoccupied. At every pause, they glanced furtively up the
trail. When noon came, it was evident that they dropped their tools with
relief. They sat with their eyes glued to the path.

"Here they come!" Billy exclaimed at last.

The men did not speak; nor until they came to the little knoll that
debouched from the trail did the women. Again Julia acted as spokesman.
"We have given you a night to think this matter over," she said briefly.
"What is your decision? Shall Angela's wings go uncut?"

"No, by God!" burst out Ralph. "No daughter of mine is going to fly. If
you--."

But with a silencing gesture, Billy interposed. "Aren't you women
happy?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Julia answered. "Of course we're not. I mean we have one kind
of happiness--the happiness that come's from being loved and having a
home and children. But there is another kind of happiness of which when
you cut our wings we were no longer capable--the happiness that comes
from a sense of absolute freedom. We can bear that for ourselves, but
not for our daughters. Angela and all the girl-children who follow her
must have the freedom that we have lost. Will you give it to them?"

"No!" Ralph yelled. And "Go home!" Honey said brutally.

The women turned.

A dead tree grew by the knoll, one slender limb stretchi