.

He squatted behind a clump of willows where he could watch her,
himself unseen. Her attitude suggested that she was cooking something,
and at the sight hunger struck through him like a knife. Not for
worlds would he have asked her for anything to eat.

By and by she arose with the frying-pan in her hand, and looked up and
down the beach.

"Oh, Sam!" she called. "Come and eat!"

He laid low, sneering miserably; bent on cutting off his nose to spite
his face. He wondered if there were any berries on the island. No, it
was too early in the season for berries. Edible roots, maybe. But he
wouldn't have known an edible root from any other kind.

After calling awhile, Bela sat down in the sand and proceeded to
satisfy her own appetite. Fresh pangs attacked Sam.

"Selfish creature!" he muttered. "That woman is bad through and
through!"

She arose and, filling another plate, started toward him, carrying it.
Her eyes were following his tracks in the sand. Sam instinctively
sprang up and took to his heels.

His cheeks burned at the realization that she would presently discover
that he had been sitting there watching her. He had not thought of the
tell-tale sand. Wherever he might seek to hide, it would betray him.

He made a complete circuit of the little island, Bela presumably
following him. The circumference of the beach was about half a mile.
He ran as hard as he could, and presently discovered her ahead of
him. He had almost overtaken her.

Thereafter he followed more slowly, keeping her in sight from the
cover of the bushes. The secret consciousness that he was acting like
a wilful child did not make him any happier.

When he came around to Bela's fire again, seeing the dugout drawn up
on the sand, his heart leaped at the chance of escape. If he could
push off in it without capsizing, surely, even with his lack of skill,
he could drive before the wind. Or even if he could keep it floating
under the lee of the island, he could dictate terms.

He waited, hidden, until she passed out of sight ahead, then ran to
it. But even as he put his hands on the bow, she reappeared, running
back. He fled in the other direction.

The chase went on reversed. He no longer heard her coming behind him.
Now he could not tell whether she were in front or behind. He passed
the dugout and the camp fire again. No sign of her there. Rounding the
point beyond, he came to the place where he had made his own fire.

Trying to keep ey