Even had it not been for her doubts of Blake, the girl’s modesty would have caused her to think twice before repeating to him the Englishman’s insulting proposal. While she yet hesitated and delayed, Winthrope came down with a second attack of fever. Blake, who until then had held himself sullenly apart from him as well as from Miss Leslie, at once softened to a gentler, or, at least, to a more considerate mood. Though his speech and bearing continued morose, he took upon himself all the duties of night nurse, besides working and foraging several hours each day.

Much to Miss Leslie’s surprise, she found herself tending the invalid through the daytime almost as though nothing had happened. But everything about this wild and perilous life was so strange and unnatural to her that she found herself accepting the most unconventional relations as a regular consequence of the situation. She was feverishly eager for anything that might occupy her mind; for she felt that to brood over the future might mean madness. The mere thought of the possibilities was far too terrifying to be calmly dwelt upon. Though slight, there had been some little comfort in the belief that she could rely on Winthrope. But now she was left alone with her doubt and dread. Even if she had nothing to fear from Blake, there were all the savage dangers of the coast, and behind those, far worse, the fever.

Meantime Blake went about his share of the camp work, gruff and silent, but with the usual concrete results. He brought load after load of fresh cocoanuts, and took great pains to hunt out the deliciously flavored eggs of the frigate birds to tempt Winthrope’s failing appetite. When Miss Leslie suggested that beef juice would be much better for the invalid than broth, he went out immediately in search of a gum-bearing tree, and that night, after heating a small quantity of gum in the cigarette case with the adder poison, he spent hours replacing his arrow-heads with small barbed tips that could be loosened from their sockets by a slight pull.

A little before dawn he dipped two of his new arrow-heads in the sticky contents of the cigarette case, fitted them carefully to their shafts, and stole away down the cleft. Dawn found him crouched low in the grass where the overflow from the pool ran out into the plain along its little channel. He could see large forms moving away from him; then came the flood of crimson light, and he made out that the figures were a drove of huge eland.

His eyes flashed with eagerness. It was a long shot; but he knew that no more was required than to pierce the skin on any part of his quarry’s body. He put his fingers between his teeth, and sent out a piercing whistle. It was a trick he had tried more than once on deer and pronghorn antelope. As he expected, the eland halted and swung half around. Their ox-like sides presented a mark hard to miss.

He rose and shot as they were wheeling to fly. Before he could fit his second arrow to the string, the whole herd were running off at a lumbering gallop. He lowered his bow, and walked after the animals, smiling with grim anticipation. He had seen his arrow strike against the side of the young bull at which he had aimed.

A little beyond where the bull had stood, he came upon the headless shaft of his arrow. As he stooped and caught it up, he saw one of the fleeing animals fall. When he came up with the dead bull, his first act was to recover his arrow-tip and cut out the flesh around the wound. Provided only with his weak-bladed knife, he found it no easy task to butcher so large a beast. Though he had now acquired considerable dexterity in the art, noon had passed before he brought the first load of meat up the cleft.

So great was the abundance of meat that Blake worked all the remainder of the day and all night stringing the flesh on the curing racks, and Miss Leslie tried out pot after pot of fat and tallow, until every spare vessel was filled, and she had to resort to a hollow in the rock beside the spring. Blake promised to make more pots as soon as he could fetch the clay, but he had first to dress the eland hide, and prepare a new stock of thread and cord from parts of the animal which he was careful not to let her see.

Whatever their concern for the future,–and even Blake’s was keen and bitter,–the party, as a party, for the time being might have been considered extremely fortunate. They had a shelter secure alike from the weather and from wild beasts; an abundance of nutritious food, and, as material for clothing, the bushbuck, hyena, and eland hides. To obtain more skins and more meat Blake now knew would be a simple matter so long as he had enough poison left in the cigarette case to moisten the tips of his arrows.

Even Winthrope’s relapse proved far less serious than might reasonably have been expected. The fever soon left him, and within a few days he regained strength enough to care for himself. Here, however, much to Blake’s perplexity and concern, his progress seemed to stop, and all Blake’s urging could do no more than cause him to move languidly from one shady spot to another. He would receive Blake’s orders with a smile and a drawling “Ya-as, to be sure!”–and would then absolutely ignore the matter.

Only in two ways did the invalid exhibit any signs of energy. He could and did eat with a heartiness little short of that shown by Blake, and he would insist upon seeking opportunities to press his attentions upon Miss Leslie. He was careful to avoid all offensive remarks; yet the veriest commonplace from his lips was now an offence to the girl. While he needed her as nurse, she had endured his talk as part of her duty. But now she felt that she could no longer do so. Taking advantage of a time when the Englishman was, as she supposed, enjoying a noonday siesta down towards the barricade, she went to meet Blake, who had been up on the cliff for eggs.

“Hello!” he sang out, as he swung down the tree, one hand gripping the clay pot in which he had gathered the eggs. “What you doing out in the sun? Get into the shade.”She stepped into the shade, and waited until he had climbed down the pile of stones which he had built for steps at the foot of the tree.

“Mr. Blake,” she began, “could not I do this work,–gather the eggs?”

“You could, if I’d let you, Miss Jenny. But it strikes me you’ve got quite enough to do. Tell you the truth, I’d like to make Win take it in hand again. But all my cussing won’t budge him an inch, and you know, when it comes to the rub, I couldn’t wallop a fellow who can hardly stand up.”

“Is he really so weak?” she murmured.

“Well, you know how– Say, you don’t mean that you think he’s shamming?”

“I did not say that I thought so, Mr. Blake. I do not care to talk about him. What I wish is that you will let me attend to this work.”

“Couldn’t think of it, Miss Jenny! You’re already doing your share.”

“Mr. Blake,–if you must know,–I wish to have a place where I can go and be apart–alone.”

Blake scowled. “Alone with that dude! He’d soon find enough strength to climb up with you on the cliff.”

“I–ah–Mr. Blake, would he be apt to follow me, if I told you distinctly I should rather be alone?”

“Would he? Well, I should rather guess not!” cried Blake, making no attempt to conceal his delight. “I’ll give him a hint that’ll make his hair curl. From now on, nobody climbs up this tree but you, without first asking your permission.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blake! You are very kind.”

“Kind to let you do more work! But say, I’ll help out all I can on the other work. You know, Miss Jenny,–a rough fellow like me don’t know how to say it, but he can think it just the same,–I’d do anything in the world for you!”

As he spoke, he held out his rough, powerful hand. She shrank back a little, and caught her breath in sudden fright. But when she met his steady gaze, her fear left her as quickly as it had come. She impulsively thrust out her hand, and he seized it in a grip that brought the tears to her eyes.

“Miss Jenny! Miss Jenny!” he murmured, utterly unconscious that he was hurting her, “you know now that I’m your friend, Miss Jenny!”

“Yes, Mr. Blake,” she answered, blushing and drawing her hand free. “I believe you are a friend–I believe I can trust you.”

“You can, by–Jiminy! But say,” he continued, blundering with dense stupidity, “do you really mean that? Can you forgive me for being so confounded meddlesome, the other day, after the snake–”

He stopped short, for upon the instant she was facing him, as on that eventful day, scarlet with shame and anger.

“How dare you speak of it?” she cried. “You’re–you’re not a gentleman!”

Before he could reply, she turned and left him, walking rapidly and with her head held high. Blake stared after her in bewilderment.

“Well, what in–what in thunder have I done now?” he exclaimed. “Ladies are certainly mighty funny! To go off at a touch–and just when I thought we were going to be chums! But then, of course, I’ve the whole thing to learn about nice girls–like her!”

“I–ah–must certainly agree with you there, Blake,” drawled Winthrope, from beside the nearest bush.

Blake turned upon him with savage fury: “You dirty sneak!–you gentleman! You’ve been eavesdropping!”

The Englishman’s yellow face paled to a sallow mottled gray. He had seen the same look in Blake’s eyes twice before, and this time Blake was far more angry.

“You sneak!–you sham gent!” repeated the American, his voice sinking ominously.Winthrope dropped in an abject heap, as though Blake had struck him with his club.

“No, no!” he protested shrilly. “I am a real–I am–I’m a not–”

“That’s it–you’re a not! That’s true!” broke in Blake, with sudden grim humor. “You’re a nothing. A fellow can’t even wipe his shoes on nothing!”

The change to sarcasm came as an immense relief to Winthrope.

“Ah, I say now, Blake,” he drawled, pulling together his assurance the instant the dangerous light left Blake’s eyes, “I say now, do you think it fair to pick on a man who is so much your–er–who is ill and weak?”

“That’s it–do the baby act,” jeered Blake. “But say, I don’t know just how much eavesdropping you did; so there’s one thing I’ll repeat for the special benefit of your ludship. It’ll be good for your delicate health to pay attention. From now on, the cliff top belongs to Miss Leslie. Gents and book agents not allowed. Understand? You don’t go up there without her special invite. If you do, I’ll twist your damned neck!”

He turned on his heel, and left the Englishman cowering.