in June, dawn on Kon Klayu
was but a tender merging of golden twilight into amber and rose and
blue, with the sun reappearing within an hour of his setting, kissing
the summer sea into sparking sheets of silver and jade. The little
green Island with its girdle of creaming surf had never seemed so
beautiful as in the early morning of the day Shane and Kayak and Harlan
sailed away in search of help. The electricity of adventure, of hope
was in the air, and the wind was as soft and balmy as a breath from
tropic seas.

After the last good-bye had been said, Ellen, Jean and Loll stood on
the beach below the cabin watching the little whaleboat riding the
long, gentle swells just outside the line of breakers. The tin patches
on the frail sides glinted bravely in the sunshine, the mended old
Christopher Columbus sail caught the breeze, and slenderly outlined
against it were the forms of Shane and Harlan waving a cheerful
farewell to the watchers. Kayak Bill, his hand on the tiller and his
face turned resolutely away, headed the pathetic craft out into the
treacherously smiling North Pacific and laid his course for Katleean.

The boat was slowly lost in the sunny silver distance, and the sisters,
arm in arm, turned and listlessly followed the trail back to the cabin.
Lollie walking on ahead, brushed the tears from his eyes and squared
his narrow shoulders as if already he had assumed the responsibilities
of the man of the family.

The door of the cabin stood open and the sun made a great rectangle of
light on the floor. It was very quiet--and lonely. The loneliness was
new to both women and it hurt like a pain in their souls. It seemed
impossible that nowhere on the Island were the men to whom they were so
accustomed.

Ellen began picking up the dishes which were standing as she had left
them after the early breakfast. Jean helped her. When the work was
over there seemed nothing left but the aching emptiness of waiting.

The long day wore away at last. Tomorrow, if the wind held favorable
and all went well, Ellen and Jean assured each other repeatedly, the
whaleboat would reach Katleean, and in two more days a ship might come
for them.

At twilight Jean climbed alone to the Lookout. The sunny day had faded
in a grey mist. Afar down toward the south cliffs the tree so like a
waiting woman stood out against it in weird, life-like appeal. The
flat desolation of the plateau was marked by the tundra trail that le