Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

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THE CHILD CRUSOES 53 their terrible cruise. A deathlike silence brooded over the island. "Well, children, we seem to be alone in this part of the world," said the captain. ' ' Dont you think there may be some islanders living in the jungle?" asked the boy. * ' There may be. We '11 explore later on. I think we'd better make a fire and have something warm to eat. ' ' "Oh, look!" cried Jack. "Gee! What a big turtle! I'll kill it, and we can have soup ! ' ' But the captain stopped him. Drawing his instruments from his pockets, he calculated the island's location. Then, securing the mammoth with a loop of rope, he took out his knife and carved upon the shell of the back the following inscription : 1 ' Castaways. Dauntless. Desert Isle. Lat. 22. Long. 130. Save us ! " Jack felt a thrill of excitement as he helped the captain slide the monster into the sea. "He's our messenger," he said, smiling thru pale, drawn lips. "Oh, captain! Wouldn't it be just great if he should bring us help ! ' ' "Yes, my boy. But dont bank on it — it's only a chance. Now, let's draw the raft in and get something to eat." When the raft was drawn out of the reach of the waves the captain asked Jack to gather dried grass and leaves to start a fire. "I didn't know we had matches, sir," said Jack. "The sun is my match," answered the captain. Then he showed the wondering children how to focus the lens of a spyglass to kindle a fire. The bunch of dried grass smoldered, then burst into little flames, and soon a good fire was crackling under a couple of pots, one of which contained beans and the other coffee. The captain, still harassed by innumerable fears, was pleased to witness a change in the children. The occasion was in the na ture of a picnic to them. The horror of that ever-menacing sea seemed lifted from their spirits. The warm meal seemed to put strength and courage into all of them, and, when the captain hinted at making some explorations, the children coaxed to go with him. They made directly for a craggy hill at one end of the beach. They climbed it painfully, their weakened muscles rebelling at the strain put upon them. When the captain reached the top, he turned to take a survey of the interior. Weak and dizzy from the climb, his foot slipped, he lost his balance, and, clutching at the air, he plunged down the clifflike declivity. It had happened so quickly that the children, stunned and terrified, barely comprehended the disaster. As they peered over the edge of the cliff and saw the motionless body on the rocks below, the first realization that her father was really hurt surged over his child's mind with a cruel shock. Shrieking wildly, she started to scramble down to him, and Jack, no less grief-stricken, accompanied her and watched over her safety. The captain was dead. The sobbing children tried to revive him, but the big, strong, saddened heart was still. The lonely waifs flung themselves in an abandonment of grief across the broken body, and night closed down upon them still clasping the rigid limbs, and sobbing out their little hearts upon the chilling bosom of their father and friend. Jack became conscious of the gathering darkness. He sat up and looked about him, bewildered. Like an annunciation from the silent spaces stretching to infinity came the knowledge that he must take the captain's place and assume the role of protector to the prostrate little girl. He felt very helpless and very miserable, but he also felt that he couldn't shirk his responsibility. Placing his arm about the little girl's shoulders, he called to her brokenly : "May, May, we mustn't stay here! It isn't doing any good. Let's go