next day the horses were brought in from the valley, and the traps
were put to immediate use. A half-dozen excursions were planned by the
now friendly beneficiaries; life on the island, aside from certain legal
restraints, began to take on the colour of a real holiday.

Two lawyers, each clever in his own way, were watching every move with
the faithfulness of brooding hens. Both realised, of course, that the
great fight would take place in England; they were simply active as
outposts in the battle of wits. They posed amiably as common allies in
the fight to keep the islanders from securing a single point of vantage
during the year.

"If they hadn't been in such a hurry to get married," Britt would
lament.

"Do you know, I don't believe a man should marry before he's thirty, a
woman twenty-six," Saunders would observe in return.

"You're right, Saunders. I agree with you. I was married twice before I
was thirty," reflected Britt on one occasion.

"Ah," sympathised Saunders. "You left a wife at home, then?"

"Two of 'em," said Britt, puffing dreamily. "But they are other men's
wives now." Saunders was half an hour grasping the fact that Britt had
been twice divorced.

Meanwhile, it may be well to depict the situation from the enemy's point
of view--the enemy being the islanders as a unit. They were prepared to
abide by the terms of the will so long as it remained clear to them that
fair treatment came from the opposing interests. Rasula, the Aratat
lawyer, in mass meeting, had discussed the document. They understood its
requirements and its restrictions; they knew, by this time, that there
was small chance of the original beneficiaries coming into the property
under the provisions. Moreover, they knew that a bitter effort would be
made to break this remarkable instrument in the English courts. Their
attitude, in consequence, toward the grandchildren of their former lords
was inimical, to say the least.

"We can afford to wait a year," Rasula had said in another mass meeting
after the two months of suspense which preceded the discovery that
grandchildren really existed. "There is the bare possibility that they
may never marry each other," he added sententiously. Later came the news
that marriage between the heirs was out of the question. Then the
islanders laughed as they toiled. But they were not to be caught
napping. Jacob von Blitz, the superintendent, stolid German that he was,
saw far into the future. It was