d of
any kind. Then far out, a dark mass like a fallen cloud, challenged her
attention. Even as she wondered it rose into the air and began to
advance swiftly toward her, . . . it resolved itself into thousands of
small black birds.

"The sea-parrots!" Ellen spoke aloud in her surprise. "They must be
going south." She had not known that this would happen. She felt a dull
regret that it should be so.

With crimson beaks pointed south they came nearer and nearer, until,
flying directly overhead, they cast a shadow as if a cloud had passed
over the sun. The sky was black with them. Noiseless on the wing, there
was something ominous in the sea-parrot's silence during the quarter of
an hour in which they flew steadfastly over the island on their course.
Ellen watched them with an interest divided between wonder and awe.

Before they had passed an increasing wild chorus came to her ears. She
turned to face the north again where another cloud--grey-white--was
coming. She knew it to be composed of her noisiest neighbors, the gulls,
bound also for southern shores.

Over the island these birds sailed with gay squawkings, their wide wings
seeming to wave a contemptuous good-bye. It was as if they scorned, yet
pitied the human creature below who must stay behind because she had no
wings to bear her away.

The last call dimmed and died. Despite the lazy swash of the swells on
the beach below the sunny afternoon was heavy with silence. Ellen's eyes
swept the vast circle of the distance. The smoke of the south-bound
steamer was no more. Far down the tundra toward the cliffs stood the one
lone tree of Kon Klayu facing the sea like a waiting woman with long,
wind-blown hair. . . . An appalling sense of loneliness flooded Ellen.
A sudden, overwhelming need for human companionship swept her. . . . She
turned hastily into the trail that led down to the cabin--then checked
herself, as the sound of some one whistling came to her. She glanced
back.

Walking briskly toward her along the tundra trail that led from his Hut
to the Lookout came Gregg Harlan. He must recently have borrowed Shane's
razor, for the soft, dark beard that had shadowed his face was gone.
Bareheaded, he advanced swingingly, vigorously, his chin up, his whole
figure the personification of youth, confidence, and a new strength. For
the first time Ellen was glad to see him.

As she waited for him to approach she studied him with interest. He had