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bank. Then he crawled on again up to the top, and staggering to his feet made his

way cautiously toward the two huts. All was quiet. He assumed that the party

was asleep, and so he lay down near the rude shelter he had constructed for

Barbara Harding, and fell asleep.

It was broad daylight when he awoke--the sun was fully three hours high, and yet

no one was stirring. For the first time misgivings commenced to assail Billy's

mind. Could it be possible? He crossed over to his own hut and entered--it was

deserted. Then he ran to Barbara's--it, too, was unoccupied. They had gone!

All during the painful trip from the village to the island Billy had momentarily

expected to meet a party of rescuers coming back for him. He had not been

exactly disappointed, but a queer little lump had risen to his throat as the days

passed and no help had come, and now this was the final blow. They had

deserted him! Left him wounded and dying on this savage island without taking

the trouble to assure themselves that he really was dead! It was incredible!

"But was it?" thought Billy. "Didn't I tell them that I was dying? I thought so

myself, and there is no reason why they shouldn't have thought so too. I suppose

I shouldn't blame them, and I don't; but I wouldn't have left them that way and

not come back. They had a warship full of blue jackets and marines--there

wouldn't have been much danger to them."

Presently it occurred to him that the party may have returned to the coast to get

the marines, and that even now they were searching for him. He hastened to

return to the mainland, and once more he took up his wearisome journey.

That night he reached the coast. Early the next morning he commenced his

search for the man-of-war. By walking entirely around the island he should find

her he felt sure.

Shortly after noon he scaled a high promontory which jutted out into the sea.

From its summit he had an unobstructed view of the broad Pacific. His heart

leaped to his throat, for there but a short distance out were a great battleship and

a trim white yacht--the Alaska and the Lotus! They were steaming slowly out to

sea.

He was just in time! Filled with happiness the mucker ran to the point of the

promontory and stripping off his shirt waved it high above his head, the while he

shouted at the top of his lungs; but the vessels kept on their course, giving no

answering signal.

For half an hour the man continued his futile efforts to attract the attention of

someone on board either craft, but to his dismay he saw them grow smaller and

134

The Mucker