hat she should have said to dissuade her husband from this
last mad venture.

She turned her eyes from the sea at last, resolving to shake off her
depression. She must prepare to meet the future. Jean had left her
some time before and was busy tucking her violin away more securely in
its wrapping of silk. Lollie kneeling before the cage in which his
pigeon fluttered experimentally was trying to force bunches of wild
peas through the bars. Ellen went close to the cage and looked down at
the bird.

There was something sinister in the gleam of the bright, beady eye it
turned up at her. The words of the White Chief came back to her.
"You'll want me. . . . The pigeon loose, comes back. _I will
understand_." . . . "You'll want me." What had he meant by that? The
pigeon--She looked down at it again thoughtfully. That afternoon, in
lowering the cage from the deck of the _Hoonah_ into the whale-boat,
the fastening had slipped and it had fallen into the sea, but
Silvertip, by a quick movement, had grasped it before it sank.
Suddenly Ellen found herself beset by two conflicting emotions--one
moment she wished it had gone down into the depths--the next she felt
that she must let nothing happen to this last, this only connecting
link with the mainland.

She was brought back to her surroundings by Jean's call, as the young
girl hailed Shane and Kayak Bill, who were coming toward them through
the tall rice-grass. The faces of both men wore looks of unusual
seriousness and there was no answer to Jean's greeting until they
stopped beside the piled-up outfit.

"Oh, Shane, you didn't find the cabin?" Even as she asked the question
Ellen knew the answer.

"No, dear. It doesn't seem to be at this end of the Island at all.
But--" noting the dismayed faces of those about him--"we needn't worry
about it. We'll put up the tents here for the night and make an early
start in the morning."

Loll had left his pigeon, and was listening, wide-eyed and serious.

"But what if there is no cabin, dad?" With child-like directness he
voiced the question that was uppermost in the minds of every other
member of the party on the tree-less Island of Kon Klayu. In the
momentary silence that followed a gust of wind stirred the rice-grass
into questioning sound as the coarse blades swayed together.

"Oh, I know!" the boy answered himself enthusiastically, "we'll find a
cave, of course, and live in it like Robinson Crusoe."

"Right-o, b