t his eyes upon her in a
wondering stare. They were at once shifted to the kettle from which
there now issued savory odors of boiling fowl.

"He's hungry all right," she smiled.

When the soup was ready to serve they were treated to a slight shock.
The bird had been carefully set on a wooden plate to one side. Their
guest was being offered only the broth. This he sniffed for a moment,
then, placing it carefully on the ground, seized the bird and holding
it by the drumsticks began to gnaw at its breast.

Marian stared at him, then smiled. "I don't know as a full meal is
good for him, but we can't stop him now."

She set a plate of boiled potatoes before him. The boy paused to
stare, then to point a finger at them, and exclaimed something that
sounded like: "Uba canok."

"Do you suppose he never ate potatoes?" exclaimed Lucile in surprise.
"What sort of boy must he be?"

She broke a potato in half and ate one portion.

At once a broad smile spread over the brown boy's face as he proceeded
to add the potatoes to his bill of fare.

"Guess we'll have to start all over getting this meal," smiled Lucile;
"our guest has turned into a host."

When at last the strange boy's hunger was assuaged, Lucile brought two
woolen blankets from one of the tents and offered them to him.
Wrapping himself in these, he sat down by the fire. Soon, with hands
crossed over ankles, with face drooped forward, he slept.

"Queer sort of boy!" exclaimed Lucile. "I'd say he was an Indian, if
Indians lived that way, but they don't and haven't for some
generations. Our little brown boy appears to have walked from out
another age."

Night crept down over the island. Long tree shadows spread themselves
everywhere, to be at last dissolved into the general darkness. Still
the boy sat by the fire, asleep, or feigning sleep.

Not feeling quite at ease with such a stranger in their camp, the girls
decided to maintain a watch that night. Marian agreed to stand the
first watch until one o'clock, Lucile to finish the night. In the
morning they would take their small gasoline launch, which was at this
moment hidden around the bend in a small creek, and would carry the boy
to the emigration office at Fort Townsend.

They had worked and played hard that day. When Lucile was wakened at
one o'clock in the morning, she found herself unspeakably drowsy. A
brisk walk to the beach and back, then a dash of cold spring water on
her face, roused