“That there should be a cyclone right here at home, and I not to see it! See! look! Uncle, look! you can trace its very path, just as we read. Away to the south there is no sign of it, nor on the northeast. It must have swept up to us out of the southeast and taken our island in its track. Oh! I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” The man rested his hand upon her shoulder and turned her gently homeward. His weakness had left him as it had come upon him, with a suddenness like that of the recent tempest. It was not the first seizure of the kind which he had had, though neither of these others knew it, and the fact added a deeper gravity to his always thoughtful manner. “I am most thankful that you were not here; but where could you have been to escape it?” “All day in the long cave. To the very end of it, I believe, and see! I found these. They are like the specimens you brought the other day. They must be some rich metal.” “In the long cave, you? Alone? all day? Margot, Margot, is not the glass enough? but you must tempt worse luck by goin’ there!” cried Angelique, who had preceded the others on the path, but now faced about, trembling indignantly. What foolish creature was this who would pass a whole day in that haunted spot, in spite of the dreadful tales that had been told of it? “Pouf! but I wear out my old brain everlastin’, studying the charms that will save you from evil. And yet--” “You would do well to use some of your charms on Tom, yonder. He’s found an over-turned coop and looks too happy to be out of mischief.” The woman wheeled again and was off up the slope like a flash, where presently the king of birds was treated to the indignity of a sound boxing, which he resented with squawks and screeches, but not with talons, since under each foot he held the plump body of a fat chicken. “Tom thinks a bird in the hand is worth a score of cuffs! and Angelique’s so determined to have somebody die--I hope it won’t be he. A pity, though, that harm should have happened to her own pets. Hark! what is that?” “Some poor woodland creature in distress. The storm--” “That’s no sound belonging to the forest. But it is--distress!” CHAPTER III AN ESTRAY FROM CIVILIZATION They paused by the cabin door, left open by Angelique, and listened intently. She, too, had caught the alien sound, the faint, appealing halloo of a human voice--the rarest of all cries in that wilderness. Even the eagle’s screeches could not drown it, but she had had enough of anxieties for one day. Let other people look out for themselves; her precious ones should not stir afield again--no, not for anything. Let the evil bird devour the dead chickens, if he must, her place was in the cabin, and she rushed back down the slope, fairly forcing the others inward from the threshold where they hesitated. “’Tis a loon. You should know that, I think, and that they’re always cryin’ fit to scare the dead. Come! The supper’s waitin’ this long time.”