Angel Island

"That's the answer," Ralph said in a tone of satisfaction.

Immediately after breakfast, the next morning, they made for the file of

trunks so contemptuously rejected the first week of their stay. Honey,

who was always head and shoulders in front of the others, broke open the

first one.

"By jiminy, boys!" he shouted, seizing something that lay on top and

waving it over his head, "we've got them on the go-off. By George," he

went on, lowering his voice, "I bet that belonged to some darned pretty

woman."

The men crowded about him; and, as they examined his find, their faces

softened. Nothing could more subtly have emanated femininity. It was a

hand-mirror of silver. Two carved Cupids held the glass between them.

Their long wings made the handle.

"Put it down there on the hard sand," Ralph said, "where they can't fail

to see it."

"Hold!" exclaimed Honey in a tone of burlesque warning. "There must be

five mirrors. He knows nothing of women who thinks that one mirror may

be divided among five girls. I hope Lulu cops this one."

His companions did not laugh. Apparently they were impressed with the

sapience of his remark. They searched the trunks until they had gathered

the five that Honey demanded. They placed them in a row just above the

high-water line. The mirrors caught the sunlight, reflected it.

"They won't do a thing to those girls," said Honey. There was the glee

in his voice of a little boy who is playing a practical joke.

The girls came in a group in the middle of the afternoon.

"They've spotted them already," said Honey.

"Trust a woman and a looking-glass."

The discovery ruined discipline; it broke ranks; the five girls flew

high, flew low, flew separated, flew grouped, crowded about Julia,

obviously asking her advice. Obviously she gave it; for following her

quick, clear tones of advice came a confused chattering - remonstrance.

Then Peachy, Clara, Chiquita, and Lulu dropped a little. Julia alone

came no nearer. She alone showed no excitement.

The men meantime watched. They could not, as they had so loftily

resolved, pretend to ignore the situation. But they kept silent and

still. Once or twice the girls glanced curiously in their direction. But

in the main they ignored them. Descending in big, slow, cautious,

sliding curves, they circled nearer and nearer the sand.

Suddenly Lulu screamed. Still screaming, she bounded - it was almost

that she bounced - straight up. The others streamed to the zenith in the

wake of her panic, caught up, closed about her. There floated down the

shrillness of agitated question and answer.