went on Lestrange, "that there is danger
threatening the--" He ceased, paused a minute, and then, to
Stannistreet's relief, went on. "If I talk like that you will think I
am not right in my head: let us pass the subject by, let us forget
dreams and omens and come to realities. You know how I lost the
children; you know how I hope to find them at the place where Captain
Fountain found their traces? He says the island was uninhabited, but he
was not sure."

"No," replied Stannistreet, "he only spoke of the beach."

"Yes. Well, suppose there were natives at the other side of the island
who had taken these children."

"If so, they would grow up with the natives."

"And become savages?"

"Yes; but the Polynesians can't be really called savages; they are a
very decent lot I've knocked about amongst them a good while, and a
kanaka is as white as a white man--which is not saying much, but it's
something. Most of the islands are civilised now. Of course there are a
few that aren't, but still, suppose even that `savages,' as you call
them, had come and taken the children off--"

Lestrange's breath caught, for this was the very fear that was in his
heart, though he had never spoken it.

"Well?"

"Well, they would be well treated."

"And brought up as savages?"

"I suppose so."

Lestrange sighed.

"Look here," said the captain; "it's all very well talking, but upon my
word I think that we civilised folk put on a lot of airs, and waste a
lot of pity on savages."

"How so?"

"What does a man want to be but happy?"

"Yes."

"Well, who is happier than a naked savage in a warm climate? Oh, he's
happy enough, and he's not always holding a corroboree. He's a good
deal of a gentleman; he has perfect health; he lives the life a man was
born to live--face to face with Nature. He doesn't see the sun through
an office window or the moon through the smoke of factory chimneys;
happy and civilised too but, bless you, where is he? The whites have
driven him out; in one or two small islands you may find him still--a
crumb or so of him."

"Suppose," said Lestrange, "suppose those children had been brought up
face to face with Nature--"

"Yes?"

"Living that free life--"

"Yes?"

"Waking up under the stars"--Lestrange was speaking with his eyes
fixed, as if upon something very far away--"going to sleep as the sun
sets, feeling the air fresh, like this which blows upon us, all around
them. Suppose they were like that, w