Page:Anderson--Isle of seven moons.djvu/98

86 wilderness produced tropical fruits; and on the rougher west coast of the island was a rendezvous of sea-birds which added new delicacies to the lost sailor's larder.

Other tools he contrived,—a spade from a flat stone, roughly sharpened by chipping it with another, then set in a cleft bamboo reed, and bound with tough vines; a hammer similarly fabricated; and an axe of disappointing dulness.

Fortunately, long handling of ropes rendered his hands proof against blisters, and on the thirtieth day, so busily did he work, the house-warming of a little hut was celebrated. Save for the jabber of the parrot and the scream of some harsh macaw, it was a very silent occasion. There was only one guest, and she never spoke. Yet the boy was sure the place echoed to her silent laughter. The day was to come, perhaps, when it would only mock him, but now he could hear its lilt pleasantly everywhere,—in the breeze ruffling the palm-fronds, the very silver break of the waves on the beach, and its overtones always in the bubbling of the spring.

The hut had one room, quite sufficient for his needs. His cooking was done on hollowed stones in the open. Sweet-fern and palm-leaves furnished his bedding. Yet he ate plentifully and slept soundly, though all too drowsily, for some time at least. On his square shoulders was set a very level head, and on one thing he was stoutly determined,—he would not let the loneliness, the overcompelling mystery, "get his nerve," as hour by hour they threatened. Some day he would see Sally again. Either he would get to her, or she would come to him. Over and over he said it to himself.