attacking Gerald's face, snapping at his ears, pulling
his hair, and almost frightening him into a fit. But Elsa laid Saint
Augustine gently on the ground and went to the rescue. With sharp
slaps of her thin hands she soon reduced Jocko to submission and, as
if fearing punishment herself, Joan crouched behind a bush and peered
cautiously out.

"Pshaw! How'd you do it? I was coming after the monkeys, they're mine
you know--or half mine, but--do they act that way often?"

"Yes, rather too often. That's what makes everybody afraid to handle
them. They'll get better natured after a time, I hope. But no matter
about them. They're nothing but animals while this darling little
boy--I don't know as I can carry him. You've been sick and so can't
either, I suppose. Yet we can't leave him here. Will you go back to
the Lily and get more help? If you brought a hammock we might put him
in that. He's awfully sick. I'm afraid--he'll die--and his mother--"

Gerald had stood looking upon the little lad while she said this,
wondering what would best be done, and annoyed that he should be put
to the bother of the matter. His decision was made rather suddenly as
again Jocko leaped upon his back and resumed his angry chattering.

"Call him off! I'll carry the child. Which is the way home?"

"I don't--know. It all looks alike--but not like--I mean, I haven't
the least idea where we are, except that it must be a good ways from
the boat. Don't you really know, either?"

For a moment Gerald looked about. Then answered frankly:

"No. I was pretty cross when I came out, for Melvin had just told me
about that lost money and about Dorothy's paying for me--So horrid,
that! I heard a bird whistle and whistling's my gift, some folks
think. I've whistled for entertainments at school and I like to learn
new notes. Following that wretched bird I didn't notice."

"And looking for a walking-fern I didn't either. But we can't stop
here. We must go on--some way."

"Let's try the children's way: 'My--mother--told--me--this!'"

Elsa laughed. She had known so little of childish things that each new
one delighted her. Gerald had uttered the few words, turning from
point to point with each, and now finishing with an outstretched
forefinger in a direction where the trees were less thick and crowding
than elsewhere.

Fortunately, "his--mother--had--told--him" the right one. This was
almost the end of the forest behind Corny Stillwell's cabin; a
short-c