"The Lucky Speculator,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 20 December 1927, Page 7

"The Lucky Speculator,”

A POWERFUL LOVE STORY OF A MODERN GIRL.

BY MARY DRY WE TEMPEST, Author of: “Ilis Last Shot,” “The Second Mrs Fairfax,” etc., etc.

CHAPTER X— Continued,

She climbed with eager feet, hope leading the way. Arrived there, she gazed about her, while Brent with a wide sweep of his arm, indicated the all-encircling, empty ocean —empty to the horizon.

“Waste of time and precious fuel building bonfires,” he said dryly, “there’s nothing to see 'em except that vulture.”

She followed his gesture, glancing shudderingly up to where a black speck hung motionless in the sky directly over their heads, and fell silent. “Let us make use of what the gods have given us. Be thankful you ve a bungalow —of sorts,” nodding down towards the hut; “bed, food, water.” She stirred, still conscious of that speck in the blue, and for the first time, thought of his plight. “What about yourself? You can’t sleep in the open.” His eyes, chill and expressionless, rested on hers for a long time, probing her soul, then dropped to the Hurry of surf, breaking softly on the shingled beach, fax below. She had tho grace to flush rosily. “Pray don’t bother about-me.”-The frigid politeness of his tone whipped that flush into ft deeper red. Site could And no words in which to assure him—in a tone as cold as his —that where and how he slept did not matter to her at all. She hastened to change the subject, back to the old one: “You think there’s no chance of our being rescued to-night?” “Not the fainest.” “Then,” with an involuntary shudder, “I can only hope there’ll be no wild beasts; no horrible tropical reptiles crawling about this island when it gets night.” “You can sport.your oak; a pretty strong one from the look of it.” Gyp began to take heart again, and glanced at him in quickening interest. “Where'll you be?” she asked impulsively, then instantly wanted to recall the question. Luckily, he did not appear to have heard it this time. A thought struck her. “Oh,” she cried out, “we’re forgetting the boat. Don’t you remember we came by ourselves? So they can't have stolen that?” Her voice was now thrilling with gaiety, for this was going to be just a splendid, exciting adventure after all. 'She turned her glowing face on him. ‘ ‘ Of course wc can save ourselves in the boat?” He gave a wry smile. “Not to-night—land’s too far off. But that reminds me, we left some wraps in it that will come in useful;. Think I’d better get along and fetch ’em while there’s light.” He postponed tolling her that no small boat could take them quite so far. When he was gone, Gyp, with her eternal optimism, plucked up heart again. Rescue seemed so near, and after all it was going to be great fun telling Tony and Peggs all about pirates and castaways and exciting escapes—with always herself as the central figure.

She stole into the hut and began inspecting it with the eye.of an incoming tenant. The bed was a small double one, so that, had tilings been different, she and Stephen—but that way was barred in deed and thought. The hut boasted a small, high-up window, a stool, some loose planking for floor, a tin wash-basin, a small, square looking-glass. There were two strong bolts on the door.

She began to feel she’d be safe enough here. If Stephen only loved cared —she meant believed in her, slit' wouldn’t really mind if they weren t rescued for two or three days!

She dragged her thoughts from that perilous path, and sent them careering after those daring buccaneers, absconding with their vessel. She wondered if they would repaint and rename it, then sell it—like ear thieves do. Wondered too, if Stephen could be held responsible? Brent seemed a long time coming back, and Gyp’s unstable mind began to plane earthward and even to fear that the pirates had got him, too. Of course they all knew he was a most frightfully lucky speculator; they might hold him to ransom. What an awful thought! Little icicles began to creep along her veins on their way to tell her quaking heart all about it. In her trepidation, she decided to expose herself on “The Crest,” as she had named the topmost crag, in the hope that they’d see her and take her prisoner, too. But on her breathless race upward, she remembered that hanging, hungry speck —and ran back to the shelter of her hut. Barring the door, she tiling herself down on the bed, and howled her fright and loneliness into the pillow. That little storm over, she climbed on to the stool, and put her head out of the window thta gave on the sea to watch for him. When at last ho materialised, and came striding up the beach, her relief was so immense that her heart seemed to hammer its joy; joy that turned to irritation when lie called: “Here, come and help carry these up! ” She slipped from her stool and stood irresolute, longing to go, yet fearing to make herself “cheap.” He whistled; then shouted again: “Hello, there; come down and help! ’ ’ That was an order, not a request. Gyp resolved not to stir. But when Brent arrived and she saw how heavily he was laden, she felt ashamed of her paltriness.

He dropped two wraps on the stony turf, a heavy case, fishing-tackle and his creel, with fish in it. “That was a sweat,” lie said, mopping his temples. “Hoped you’d have given me a hand.” As she did not speak, he turned to look at her, and saw she was trembling. “Try a siesta,” he advised. “I’ll send along a yell when the eats are ready.” His nearness and matter-of-factness acted like a narcotic on her jarred nerves. She suddenly felt overpoweringly sleepy. Presently he glanced up again from his task of straightening out his tackle, and was glad to find she had acted on his suggestion. The sun was beginning to dip into the sea when he sent that promised “yell,” loud enough to do credit to a ’varsity bed-maker. She woke with a start, and instantly leapt from her primitive couch. As sin;-, came out, her nostrils inhaled a most appetising adour, and she realised that she was famishing, J?ke &i, picture met here eyes. An oil stove with an oven attachment, shone like a huge glowworm in the dusk, throwing fantastic shadows over Brent’s rugged face, stooping above it. About on the humpy turf were plates, knives, forks, a bottle of limejuice, and a tin of biscuits. “There’s your place,” he said, without raising his eyes from his task of “dishing-up. ” She sat down on the rug he had spread for her and eagerly took her plate of sizzling fish. “I stopped to catch these,” he told her, “since this isn’t the day the fishmonger calls. Hungry?” “I suppose 1 am,” Gvp conceded. “It seems such ages since wc ate.” She accepted a second helping; a mug of lime juice and water; felt worlds better and braver. Then, true to her whimsical nature, she made a faux pas. “So we're having a picnie-a-deux, after all!” lie frowned and answered shortly: “Did I say I wanted to?” Gyp hated being snubbed, so said no more, but leaning back on her elbow, she watched the wonderful pageant spread before them. The sun was fast disappearing in a welter of flaming red, attended by His court of brilliant-ly-lined cloudlets: amethyst, green, purple, gold; she watched till he sank into his shimmering bed; watched, on till a battalion of stars sprang out to draw the curtains of night over his majesty's watery couch, and darkness fell like a velvet pall over the island. Still, far overhead, bright, glistening eyes shone down, giving a glimmer of starshine to human eyes, as they grew accustomed to the darkness.

“O-olq what are those?” breathed Gyp, ecstatically, as other stars flitted to and fro between herself and Brent, like tiny arrows of flame. “Fireflies,” He told her. “Unfortunately we shall have mosquitoes, too. Must see what ,can bo done against ’em to-morrow. Meanwhile, better get into bed in the dark if you can manage it. A candle would bring them in swarms. ’ ’ His voice sounded so indifferent that though she knew she would lie awakefor hours, Gyp got up, and without making any further reference to his sleeping quarters, bade him a curt good-night, went into her “bungalow,” and bolted her door. For some time she lay with soft cheek pressed against the coarse cotton pillow, listening to the rattle of crockery, then the dull sounds of crunching shoes outside in the darkness, as he passed and repassed the hut. “He must be sleeping somewhere near” —an immensely comforting thought to jiuoi', terrified, lonely Gyp. Her thoughts ran on: suppose some snake crept in under those loose boards, or a puma (she had heard that pumas abound in the tropics) jumped upon her from the window! <She knew there were foxes, for she’d just heard one bark. What could a fox do? . . . Make an “earth” deep into the ground and come up under her bed, jump on it, aud set his sharp fangs into her out-flulng arms? It was a hot night, but at the thought, Gyp drew them under the coarse coverlet, and tightened it down around her. There was one comfort: those awful birds don’t sit up in the sky all night, and if they did they couldn’t pounce on her now to pick her bones. Jolly thoughts to go to sleep on! (To be Continued).