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smaller until in a few hours they passed over the rim of the world, disappearing

from his view forever.

Weak, wounded, and despairing, Billy sank to the ground, burying his face in his

arms, and there the moon found him when she rose, and he was still there when

she passed from the western sky.

For three months Billy Byrne lived his lonely life upon the wild island. The

trapping and fishing were good and there was a plentiful supply of good water. He

regained his lost strength, recovering entirely from his wounds. The natives did

not molest him, for he had stumbled upon a section of the shore which they

considered bewitched and to which none of them would come under any

circumstances.

One morning, at the beginning of his fourth month of solitude, the mucker saw a

smudge of smoke upon the horizon. Slowly it increased in volume and the speck

beneath it resolved itself into the hull of a steamer. Closer and closer to the island

it came.

Billy gathered together a quantity of dry brush and lighted a signal fire on the

lofty point from which he had seen the Alaska and the Lotus disappear. As it

commenced to blaze freely he threw fresh, green boughs upon it until a vertical

column of smoke arose high above the island.

In breathless suspense Billy watched the movements of the steamer. At first it

seemed that she would pass without taking notice of his signal, but at last he saw

that she was changing her course and moving directly toward the island.

Close in she came, for the sea was calm and the water deep, and when Billy was

sure that those on board saw him and his frantic waving, he hurried, stumbling

and falling, down the steep face of the cliff to the tiny beach at its foot.

Already a boat had been lowered and was putting in for land. Billy waded out to

the end of the short shelving beach and waited.

The sight that met the eyes of the rescuers was one that filled them with awe, for

they saw before them a huge, giant of a white man, half-naked except for a few

tattered rags, who wore the long sword of an ancient samurai at his side, a

modern revolver at his hip, and bore in his brawny hand the heavy war spear of a

head-hunter. Long black hair, and a huge beard covered the man's head and

face, but clean gray eyes shone from out of the tangle, and a broad grin welcomed

them.

Oh, you white men!" shouted the mucker. "You certainly do look good to me."

135

The Mucker