Angel Island

What hitherto had been devotion to their work grew almost to mania. It

increased their interest that the little settlement of five cabins was

fast taking shape. The men slept in beds now; for they had furnished

their rooms. They had begun to decorate the walls. They re-opened the

trunks and made another careful division of spoils. They were even

experimenting with razors and quarreling amicably over their merits. At

night, when their work was done, they actually changed their clothes.

"One week more of this," commented Honey Smith, "and we'll be serving

meals in courses. I hope that our lady-friends will call sometime when

we're dressed for dinner. I've tried several flossy effects in ties

without results. But I expect to lay them out cold with these

riding-boots."

Nevertheless many days passed and the flying-girls continued not to

appear.

"I don't believe they're ever coming again," Pete Murphy said one day in

a tone of despair.

"Oh, they'll come," Ralph Addington insisted. "They think themselves

that they're not coming again, after having proved to us that they could

fly just as well as ever. But they'll appear sometime when we least

expect it. There's something pulling them over here that's stronger than

anything they've ever come up against. They don't know what it is, but

we do - Mr. G. Bernard Shaw's life-force. They haven't realized yet what

put the spoke in their wheel, but it will bring them here in the end."

But days and days went by. The men worked hard, in the main

good-naturedly, but with occasional outbreaks of discontent and

irritation. "How about that proposition of the life-force?" they asked

Ralph Addington again and again. "You wait!" was all he ever answered.

One day, Honey Smith, who had gone off for a solitary walk, came running

back to camp. "What do you think?" he burst out when he got within

earshot. "I've seen one of them, the little brunette, the one with the

orange wings, the 'plain one.' She was flying on the other side of the

island all by her lonesome. She saw me first, and as sure as I stand

here, she called to me - a regular bird-call. I whistled and she came

flying over in my direction. Blamed if she didn't keep right over my

head for the whole trip."

"Low?" Ralph questioned eagerly.

"Yes," Honey answered succinctly, "but not low enough. I couldn't touch

her, of course. If I stopped for a while and kept quiet as the dead,

she'd come much closer. But the instant I made a move towards - bing! -

she hit the welkin. But the way she rubbered. And, Lord, how easy

scared. Once I waved my handkerchief - she nearly threw a fit. Strangest

sensation I've ever had in my life to be walking calmly along like that

with a girl beside me - flying. She isn't so plain when you get close -

she does look like a Kanaka, though." He stopped and burst out laughing.

"Funny thing! I kept calling her Lulu. After a while, she got it that

that was her tag. She didn't exactly come closer when I said 'Lulu,' but

she'd turn her head over her shoulder and look at me."