. Looking up
she saw against the cobalt sky the white wings of sea-gulls--the
harbingers of spring.

Her happiness in the sight was somewhat lessened as the sound of
coughing came from inside the cabin. Everyone but Ellen appeared to be
standing well the enforced diet of bread and shellfish upon which they
were now living. Sometimes Jean was worried over her sister's
condition. She suspected that never from the first had Ellen eaten her
full share of the food, even when they had had beans and rice and
oatmeal. Her sister could not eat the tough "gumboots" and her only
nourishment was obtained from bread and black coffee. Ellen still went
about her household tasks, but it took her longer to do them now and it
was evident to Jean's critical eye that her strength was waning.
Meat--meat was what she needed, the girl thought. The pigeon--once she
suggested to Ellen that it might be killed, but her sister opposed the
idea so violently that Jean never mentioned it again.

One day Harlan brought down a sea-gull with a stone. Jean hopefully
cooked it, but the flesh was so tainted with fish that no one could eat
it. The sea-parrots had returned to the Island but these wary little
birds kept far out over the water.

There came a morning when Ellen did not get up for breakfast. The men
left early for the lake. They were devoting all their time to their
mining, and secure in the thought that they had struck something rich,
they were eager for the clean-up; but to Jean, stepping quietly about
her household tasks, gold did not seem valuable now. It made no
difference how much they found--it would not buy them one ounce of
nourishing food--and nourishing food was what Ellen must have, and soon.

The girl tip-toed to the bed and looked down at her sister's face,
white and thin against the tumbled mass of golden-brown hair. There
was something small and very girlish-looking about Ellen as she lay
there--and something suggestive of a great weariness. Jean felt a
sudden tenderness for her--a desire to clasp her sister in her strong
young arms and shield her, from what she could not tell. She stooped
and softly kissed the small, work-stained hand that lay outside the
blanket.

As she continued her work, the plan which had often before suggested
itself to her, now returned. Ellen's peculiar conduct in regard to the
pigeon precluded her mentioning it to her sister. She took a sheet of
thin paper and in painstaking, minu