The sun was well up the following morning before the girl awakened, and it was several minutes before she could readjust herself to her strange surroundings. At first she thought that she was alone, but finally she discerned a giant figure standing at the opening which led from their mountain retreat. It was the mucker, and at sight of him there swept over the girl the terrible peril of her position--alone in the savage mountains of a savage island with the murderer of Billy Mallory--the beast that had kicked the unconscious Theriere in the face--the mucker who had insulted and threatened to strike her! She shuddered at the thought. And then she recalled the man's other side, and for the life of her she could not tell whether to be afraid of him or not--it all depended upon what mood governed him. It would be best to propitiate him. She called a pleasant good morning. Byrne turned. She was shocked at the pallor of his haggard face. “Good morning,” he said. “How did yeh sleep?” “Oh, just splendidly, and you?” she replied. “So-so,” he answered. She looked at him searchingly as he approached her. “Why I don't believe that you have slept at all,” she cried. “I didn't feel very sleepy,” he replied evasively. “You sat up all night on guard!” she exclaimed. “You know you did.” “De Chinks might o' been shadowin' us--it wasn't safe to sleep,” he admitted; “but I'll tear off a few dis mornin' after we find a feed of some kind.” “What can we find to eat here?” she asked. “Dis crick is full o' fish,” he explained, “an' ef youse got a pin I guess we kin rig up a scheme to hook a couple.” The girl found a pin that he said would answer very nicely, and with a shoe lace for a line and a big locust as bait the mucker set forth to angle in the little mountain torrent. The fish, unwary, and hungry thus early in the morning proved easy prey, and two casts brought forth two splendid specimens. “I could eat a dozen of dem minnows,” announced the mucker, and he cast again and again, until in twenty minutes he had a goodly mess of plump, shiny trout on the grass beside him. With his pocketknife he cleaned and scaled them, and then between two rocks he built a fire and passing sticks through the bodies of his catch roasted them all. They had neither salt, nor pepper, nor butter, nor any other viand than the fish, but it seemed to the girl that never in her life had she tasted so palatable a meal, nor had it occurred to her until the odor of the cooking fish filled her nostrils that no food had passed her lips since the second day before--no wonder that the two ate ravenously, enjoying every mouthful of their repast. “An' now,” said Billy Byrne, “I tink I'll poun' my ear fer a few. You kin keep yer lamps peeled fer de Chinks, an' de first fony noise youse hears, w'y be sure to wake me up,” and with that he rolled over upon the grass, asleep almost on the instant.