Little Folk

Evening Post, Volume CV, Issue 124, 26 May 1923, Page 18

Little Folk

(All Eights Reserved.) I No. 44. i SILVER ISLAND j (Written for "The Post" by Edith | . Howes.) ! CHAPTER IX. During the next three days the chil--1 dren explored the island. They sailed or rowed completely round it, landing wherever it wa3 possible to land, and scrambling through the bush in every direction, looking for tracks or any signs of human habitation. They climbed the three peaks, gazing from their diffevent heights far up the inlet and across to the green and quiet shores of the mainland on either side, then down to the. wooded slopes and valleys at their feet, their little bay and hidden camp on one hand and Arthur Seymour's valley and wild-grown garden on the other precipitous cliffs behind them. There was no man on the island, no other 'habitation but the cave already discovered. The footprint remained a mystery.' . There were no goats on the island either. And though Jim had brought several handfuls of wheat from Aunt Kathleen's bag of fowl feed and had scattered them on the soft ground near the camp and covered them with loose earth and rubble, they gave no signs of growth as yet. But the children were in no danger of starving. They were resourceful, and they were born explorers in the matter of food as in all else. Besides, from their reading, and from former experiences in camping, they had picked up many valuable hints about food and its preparation that now stood them in good stead. When Jim had cased his weka in clay and baked it in the embers, fov instance, he was following a method described in a book about gypsies that he had read a year ago; and their little Maori oven, that cooked the food co perfectly in its own steam, was a copy of one that Dad had once made.

The rocks and shelving beaches were rich in shellfish, many of which they learned to like. The tender oysters could be eaten straight from their shells; pipis and winkles must be boiled; mussels made an excellent soup; pawas must be well pounded before they were' cooked or they would be tough. All these creatures could be obtained only when the tide. Was low, but then they were easily and quickly gathered.

Fishing took longer, and was less sure to result in a meal, but its very uncertainty made- it the more alluring. "It's like dipping into a bran pie," Enid once remarked. '-You never know what you are going to bring up." One of them generally brought up something, for blue cod, butterfish, terakihi, and kelp fish, with their bright green bones, were numerous round the island. One day, when they had caught more than they wanted, Enid had a great idea. She strung the spare fish on a twisted cord made of several strands of string, and swung the cord from one tree to another so that the fish hung in the smoke of the fire. There, day after day, they dried, and more were added. "Ready for a rainy day," as Enid said. That gave Jim an idea. He brought down an empty kerosene tin from the deserted cave, cut it open, and hammered it out flat. This, spread a couple of feet above the fireplace on four uprights which he cut from a tree and sharpened ready for sticking- into the ground, would keep out the rain on wet days and enable them to do their cooking-.

They sometimes had other birds besides wekas, for Jims made a. bow and arrow, which they had all learned to usel Now and again they bnought down a, kaka toy this means. They bad been taught a fine reverence for the beauty and wonder of the native birds. "Never destroy the glory of your own country," Mum used to say; "it is only stupid people who do that." But they ielt that hunger might well., make their offence forgivable. Wekas, besides, wer-e a pest; and kakas were very numerous. But when a great wild pigeon sat trustingly above_ the camp and Wuffles shot it down Enid was bo sore-hearted at the destruction of its lovelines, and refused so'" persistently to eat any of its flesh, that that particular offence was never repeated. '

For vegetable food, so necessary for health, there were lawyer and fuchsia berries, the gooseberries of the old garden, and plenty of wild turnip, which Enid sometimes boiled and served up like cabbage. There was a native cress, too, which was excellent, and a thick, white fern root which they sometimes split and boiled. "Always take care to have some vegetable food," Dad used to say, and they did their best to follow his remembered advice. The boys thought it strange that the cave contained no firearms of any sort, nor any fishing lines. Not even a hook j could they find, nor so much-as a cartridge. How had Arthur Seymour lived' To be on the island and not to fish seemed unthinkable, with theblue and silver beauties swimming call round the coast. The three made' many excursions to the cave and the old garden. They wentchiefly foil gooseberries, which were ripening fast; but often they brought away something else of value for their camp. The strip of carpet, stretched vertically from tree to tree along the east side of the boys' sleeping place, made an excellent screen from cold winds. The blankets from the bunk, dipped in middle stream and dried in, the, sun, were much appreciated as extra bed' coverings, even though they, were somewhat motheaten. Though days were warm nights -, were apt to be chilly. Most precious of all were the books. Those printed in English wet'© taken down to the camp; those in the strange language were left with their strangeness. "Richard Feverel" proved too difficult for such young readers, but Dickens, Shakespeare, and Lamb, and the delightful "Don Quixote" were devoured by them. The stories were the fascination, the immoral stories that ran like golden rivers through thick forests of wit and wisdom and humour and pathos. The forest did not matter, if you pushed strong tln-ough it, tossing its branches aside from your path, you could follow the river from its beginning to its golden end. That was ail that mattered now. Perhaps, coming- that way again in later years, one might stop to admire the beauty of the forest; at present the river, the story was all one cared to find. The books became not only a comfort, filling in hours of enforced idleness when it rained, but also a_ joyful companionship, a Idndling delight that left a life-long- pleasant mem-, ory. (To be Continued.)