uary is a month too early," said Harlan one evening as
they sat about the supper table discussing the possibilities of rescue,
"but we ought to have some way of attracting attention. We might put
up a flag-pole on the Lookout, but--" he shrugged his shoulders, "we
have no flag."

"If you men get the pole up, I'll see that you have a flag," Ellen
promised.

No one had been well supplied with clothes in the beginning of the
Island adventure, and gradually Ellen had used every available piece of
cloth to eke out the worn and patched garments, which despite all her
efforts, turned her family into tatterdemalions. But she took what was
left to put together her flag: some flour sacks, an old blue shirt of
Shane's and a red blanket that could hardly be spared. The men hunted
for days among the drift of the beach before finding a log the proper
length and shape for their purpose, but at the end of a week the pole
was in place.

The hoisting of the flag for the first time was made an event which
demanded the presence of every member of the party on the Lookout.
Sudden, poignant emotion stirred the six tattered figures that stood
about the pole as the crude banner unfurled its stars and stripes to
the strong breeze. Home-made and heavy it was, but it fluttered above
them, the emblem that has ever stood for hope, for freedom, for
justice, and there was that in the sight of the flag which caused the
men to stand with bared heads, while Ellen and Jean viewed it through a
mist of tears.

"Oh, surely, _surely_ now, some ship will sight it and come in!"
proclaimed Jean, as she turned to scan the sea, her face alight with
the faith inspired by the faded colors.

It was the latter part of March before the smoke of the first cannery
boat was seen moving slowly to the westward. Though the vessel was so
far away the watchers knew their low Island could hardly be seen from
its deck, the mere fact that ships were beginning to navigate the
northern sea promised well, and the flag was kept flying from the
Lookout day and night, its stars turned down as a sign of distress.

It was decided that Jean and Harlan should attend to the evening signal
fires. There was little darkness in the nights, for already the long
Alaska daylight had set in, but by placing half-dry seaweed on the
driftwood flame a great smoke resulted that, it was hoped, might be
seen by passing vessels.

It was good to sit about the fire looking down on the sea whi