Angel Island

The others remained sitting on the sand. For a while they watched Ralph.

Then they talked the whole thing over with as much interest as if they

had not yet discussed it. Ralph rejoined them and they went through it

again. It was as though by some miracle of mind-transference, they had

all dreamed the same dream; as though, by some miracle of

sight-transference they had all seen the same vision; as though, by some

miracle of space-transference, they had all stepped into the fourth

dimension. Their comment was ever of the wonder of their strange

adventure, the beauty, the thrill, the romance of it. It had brought out

in them every instinct of chivalry and kindness, it had developed in

them every tendency towards high-mindedness and idealism. Angel Island

would be an Atlantis, an Eden, an Arden, an Arcadia, a Utopia, a

Milleamours, a Paradise, the Garden of Hesperides. Into it the Golden

Age would come again. They drew glowing pictures of the wonderful

friendships that would grow up on Angel Island between them and their

beautiful visitors. These poetic considerations gave way finally to a

discussion of ways and means. They agreed that they must get to work at

once on some sort of shelter for their guests, in case the weather

should turn bad. They even discussed at length the best methods of

teaching the English language. They talked the whole morning, going over

the same things again and again, questioning each other eagerly without

listening for an answer, interrupting ruthlessly, and then adding

nothing.

The day passed without event. At the slightest sound they all jumped.

Their sleeplessness was beginning to tell on them and their nerves were

still obsessed by the unnaturalness of their experience. It was a long

time before they quieted down, but the night passed without

interruption. So did the next day. Another day went by and another, and

during this time they did little but sit about and talk.

"See here, boys," Ralph Addington said one morning. "I say we get

together and build some cabins. There's no calculating how long this

grand weather'll keep up. The first thing we know we'll be up against a

rainy season. Isn't that right, Professor?"

On most practical matters Ralph treated Frank Merrill's opinion with a

contempt that was offensively obvious to the others. In questions of

theory or of abstruse information, he was foolishly deferential. At

those times, he always gave Frank his title of Professor.

"I hardly think so," Frank Merrill answered. "I think we'll have an

equable, semi-tropical climate all the year round - about like

Honolulu."