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THE O3rAWA DAILY 1IMES, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1928 PAGE SEVENTEEN A New Absorbing Love Story of the Aire. "SEA WINGS" CHAPTER 19 When Joan went to the pool later in the day to pile new fuel on their cave fire, which must be kept per- petually burning now that they had no matches, she looked again at the crevice through which their pigmy uide had led them the night before. La times, in fact nearly every time she looked at the rock wall, she must have gazed at that particular place and passed it by, Even now, she doubted that they could have gone through such a place. The steps were inside, hidden steps. There was not even a hint of them from the outside, The cvents of the previous night were so fantastic, that at dinner, which she prepared from the vege- tables LeFevre had given them, she asked Art ii they could really be true. "Guess we didn't all dream the same thing," he said, gloomily. A moment later, she caught Ivor's eyes on her eyes of love . . , and she smiled at him, quickly, then looked away, Her cheeks were hot and she knew she had blushed, For four years and a half she would have to stay here--on ™ this island, tortured by her love for Ivor, vet true to her promise to Ralph, Knowing, too, that Art adored her in his boyish, worshipful way. Four years and six months. "Can I stand it?" She found her- seli pondering. "Can I endure it-- when I want ta tell Ivor I love him cov want him's 7 But always, the vision of Ralph came up before her, his eyes filled with tears as he waved a last good- by to her in Cleveland. Ralph, whom she had promised to marry--- Ralph, who would be waiting for her. There was her trunk-- "No, no," she whispered, Art gazed at her curiously. "What's wrong, Joan?" "It's nothing--nothing," she said BY BOB EDEN | and arose to her feet and walked disconsolately down to the edge of the beach. The days passed, and no word from LeFevre. In the meantime, the house was taking form. The framework was up and had been roofed with palm leaves. A room was finished for Joan, and she moved her few belongings into it. At her suggestion, the par had been torn up and the finen from them was to be used for sheets. It would be useless to keep them packed, ready for use, she argued. The material would rot and they could not use it anyway, even if they did succeed in getting the Sky Maiden back in the air sometime. Meanwhile, they might as well have some small comfort. Ivor and Art agreed, and helped the girl wash the heavy pieces of cloth. On the fourth day, with still no further word from LeFevre, Ivor made plans to visit the plateau and beg the loan of some utensils for Joan, "Want the gun?" she asked, She still was the custodian of it. Laughingly, he refused. This was to be a peaceful trip, he said, Joan and Art accompanied him to the pool and watched him slip through the crevice in the rock and disappear. Joan hadn't encouraged. Ivor's trip, because of a vague feeling that Le Fevre would not welcome uninvited intrusion. \When* Brooks insisted, she thought Art should go with him. But both men dissuaded her, One of them must stay with her, Not a sign of life on the plateau had been visible from the beach since their visit, Not a footprint on the beach, It was maddening, this silence, Ivor must be climbing up, now, she thought. Soon he would be at the top, Surely, Le Fevre would be {civil to him, | INVINCIBLE means V4 REPUT A [] ~The BEST TE word has only one meanin "The Best', Invincible Tellios mean jellies made from the "best" quality gelatine, "best" granulated sugar, "best" flavorings--rtesulting ina quality that is truly "INVINCIBLE", Just try them, Also ask for McLaren's INVINCIBLE Spices Coffee Marasching Cherries ATION JATY HOOP: PRODUCTS "Want to go back?" Art asked, after a short wait. "Let's stay, I'm worried" She hoped Art hadn't noticed the slight quaver in her voice....she must be careful, or she would betray her love for Ivor, "Oh, he's all right, I think Le Fevre will be friendly, He hasn't any right to be otherwise." "I know, but--" Before Joan hau finished the sentence, Ivor appeared suddenly from amid the rocks. Joan stumbled to meet him. There was blood streaming from his shoulder, oozing through his ragged shirt, n his hand he held an arrow, the point of which was also stained red. "Someone shot this arrow into me," he muttered, rubbing his arm with his free hand. Quickly Joan and Art hustled him down to the Sky Maiden where their medicine kit was kept. Joan washed the wound carefully, and Art, afraid that the arrow might contain some poison, cauterized the flesh with the white-hot tip of a screw driver he had thrust into the fire, Ivor bore the pain in silence. Only his strained, drawn face and the furrows on his forehead told the girl the agony he must be suffering, "I had climbed about half way up--it was dark in there and I was going up as best I could, when I looked up and saw a face above--a pigmy. called out. Then he shot, The thing hit me in the shoulder, I pulled it out as quickly as I could, and started down. If I had gone higher, I suppose the devil would have killed me--" Joan picked up the arrow which Ivor had dropped in the sand. "Mt had a flint tip, sharpened to a keen edge. "Is it poison?" she asked, weakly. "I don't think so--I'd probably be dead row if it were, But my whole arm is lame. I see where | can't do much work for a few days." He glanced up fiercely at the pla- teau, "That scoundrel!" Art exploded. "He apparently doesn't want com- pany unless he invites it." "Evidently not," Ivor joined in, bitterly, "Wonder whether he's ever going to ask us up there again? We'll not go! That's certain." one who decided that, She couldn't There were no more attempts to aplore the plateau, Joan was tne see why Ivor and Art wanted to risk their lives doing a foolish thing that would gain them nothing. They had managed thus far by themselves, and they could continue. She had them fashion some crude cooking utensils from the oil tins that had been left in the plane, Spring came on, and blossomed into a gorgeous flower garden. Often, the three made trips at low tide around the rocks heyond the marsh to gather fruit and trap wild pig.. Joan, too, learned to cook the ten- der new choots of palms and make a very palatable stew of them, Civilization seemed far, far away by this time. So far away, it was When Iliness eve sect ea *" Threatens The experienced wife or mother relies on Bovril when she has an invalid on her hands, Bovril is a concentrate of the vital elements of beef in @ supremely digestible and invig- orating form, It builds up strength; it fights off relapse ; it shortens convalescence, Boyril has unique nutritive powers, It gets results, That is the secret of its widespread recognition, Few doctors and nurses to-day would care to be without Boyril in the sickroom, it=must--~be the jungle! a pleasant dream in the past--noth- ing else. The castaways accommo- dated themselves each day more casily to the conditions of their en- forced imprisonment. Living out of doors made Joan's cheeks glow with health, and her body grew hard- ened to long hikes on the beach. She was barefooted nearly all the time, now. She wanted to save what fwas left of her boots. True, they had holes in the soles, but the tops were still intact and preserved irom the heat by a coating of en- gine grease. She thought by hoard- ing them carefully, they would do when they got back to the world they left. At least, until she got where she could get some other ones. Most of the time she wore her whipcord trousers, or Art's old over- alls. She sighed when she thought what she would do for others when they finally wore out. Her other garments, besides the shreds of silk underwear she had left, was the top of her nightgown, with its soft yoke of handmade lace. This she wore for a shirt, Art and Ivor were reduced to their pajamas and underwear. They were barefooted, too, most of the time. The heat during the middle of the day was unbearable, so they took long naps then and worked only when it was cool. Sometimes they worked on their cottage most of the night when the moon was at its full. for then the beach was bathed in a silver twilight, Two weeks, and still no word from Le Fevre. Three weeks. They talked of him very seldom now, Ivor's wound had healed in a few days and gradually the stiffness of his muscles disappeared. Then, one morning, Joan awak- ened to find a white envelope beside her bed in the shack. She took it quickly to the two men who were still asleep. "Another invitation, Joan?" asked, sleepily. 'I don't know, I-1 was open it." Art looked outside, and small footprints in the sand. Ivor was reading the message as he returned, It was as brief as the first one they had received. "I am having dinner this evening." No signature was affixed to the message. More of a command than an in- vitation, They looked at each other. "There's no reason why we should go," Ivor protested, "I can't see that we should accept, especially af- ter one of his pigmies took a shot at me." Joan shook her head. "We mustn't antagonize him, Tv, I think we should go." "Hmmm." "As for me," Art concluded, "I never want to see that bird again." "Neither do I, but I feel we should go--at least to sce why one of his men shot Ivor," Joan went on, "(Good idea, Joan." Ivor threw the note on the top of his low bed, which was nothing more than a bundle of palm leaves. "How about you, Art?" He acquiesced, reluctantly, "I'll ask him about the arrow," Joan suggested. "He. may have some explanation," Evening came and they made ready with what few clothes they had. "What'll we do if the pigmies shoot arrows down on us?" Art asked, sar- donically as they waited for the guide to appear. "We are guests this evening, Ar- thur, my boy," Ivor explained, sar- castically. "It is only when we are not invited, I understand, that we are attacked." "Still got the gun?" Art Joan, "Shall I carry it?" "Yes. And I wouldn't care if you shot the old devil with it, either, That's how 1 feel about him." Joan was about to reply when she heard the bushes rustle and looked Ivor afraid to found asked up. In the dusk, she recognized Kwana, The pigmy motioned them to follow. CHAPTER 20 Kwana, as before, led the way up the rocky ladder, The three followed him unhesitatingly. "If anyone shoots, Kwana will get it," said Ivor, although he was far from feeling as secure as he pretend- ed. He decided he'd keep his eyes wide open every minute they were on the plateau, so distrustful was he of Le Fevre and his motives. The moon struggled through a heavy bank of clouds as they reach- ed the top, and they were easily able to kegp their pigmy guide in sight as he rotted on ahead of them. He was leading them over a different path than they had taken on their previous visit, Soon they skirted a field of way- ing corn, rustling softly as the gentle evening breezes drifted oyer the pla- teau. And they saw other fields with vegetables growing in orderly rows. The night was warm, despite the breeze, and Joan and the men paused before mounting the steps to the verandah to wipe the per- spiration from their faces, A Together they entered the living room pausing just inside the door xo greet their host. Le Feyre was lolling back in his big chair, while a pigmy woman slowly fanned him with the leaf from a fan palm tree. As the visitors entered, he arose to his feet and bowed, and then slouch- ed back in his chair after motioning them to make themselves comfortable, The black woman resumed her fan- ning. Ivor eyed Le Fevre with hostility, but said nothing after a brusque "Hello. "Very good of you to ask us again," Joan said, diplomatically, Le Fevre uttered a gutteral com- mand to the woman back of his chair, and she quickly vanished to- ward the kitchen, reappearing soon with four tall glasses, the outsides of which gleamed with moisture in the dim light. "Sorry no ice," Le Fevre said. "Have to use cold spring water for my drinks. However, I think you'll find the Scotch quite excellent." Art quickly gulped half his drink, without ceremony. "M-m-nr-m. Wonderful." He smacked his lips. Ivor sniffed at his glass suspicious- n Made by the makers of LUX Lever Brothers Limited | another small room which Le Fevre called his shower. Evidently it was here he took his baths, for buckets | of water lined the matting floor.__ "That is all except the gardens" Le Fevre concluded. "You probably saw some of them coming up. I make gardening my hobby, some- what from necessity and somewhat from interest. Not a bad hobby." The party Salked back to the liv- ing room where a fire was bein lighted in the fireplace. 8 A hurried patter of rain sounded on the roof--at first like the swift rush of swallows' feet on the palm leaves. Then faster the drops came down . . . . faster until the clamor was deafening. There was the smell of rain coming through the open door . . . . a smell that bore the scent of flowers, of strong, lush, green things, of ripe fruit. by, a sudden coolness, and in a little while the shower had passed as quickly as it had come. "Could you--could you possibly spare some cooking utensils?" Joan asked half-timidly. "We haven't any, and I don't know how we can get along for some years more unless we have them." ' "Anything you wish, Miss Wal- ace. . Art had picked up a strange dag- ger from the low table and was ex- amining it carefully. "Nasty thing," he shuddered. Le Fevre nodded, then spoke. "How about this plane you have. Is it broken beyond repair?" Art was ready to answer but Ivor, on impulse, replied before he could say a word. "Well," he started, resolving that Le Fevre didn't deserve to know the truth, "the engine is in bad shape, and the thing won't run, of course. But it can be fixed when we get back to civilization. That's why we are being so careful of it. Seems a shame to let it deteriorate when with a little care we can save it, and have it repaired. We haven't the means here, and can't get them." No use telling Le Fevre that the Sky Maiden would run--at least not now. If he became more iriendly, and acted as. though he cared whether they got back home again-- that was time enough. Brooks 'watched the effect of his white lie on the man sitting in the appreciation, Joan set her drink to one side. "If you'd just as soon," "I'd rather have a cold water," A quizzical smile twisted Le Fevre's lips for a moment, and then a sharp command brought the servant hw- rying with a glass for Joan, Le Fevre sighed deeply as he sat his glass down, and for the first time scemed to take some interest in his guests. He turned to Ivor, "Im sorry about your wound," he said, although a sinister narrowing of his eyes scemed to belie his words. "My guards misunderstood." "Im sorry they did," Ivor respond- ed, although he was skeptical of the sincerity of the apology. "It incon. venienced me quite a bit" "Hed never have attempted to come up if you hadn't said we might have some vegetables," Joan sug- gested, "Too had," said Le Fevre, with a languid wave of his hand. "I forgot to send instructions to the guards, Ever since I've been here, I've main- tained a guard there." "But why?" Joan inquired, ously, she said, drink ot curi- "I don't like to be bothered," was the response. "While we are apologizing, I might tell you how sorry I am for hooking your cigarettes last here," Art spoke up. anything like that in my life before. ume we were But it had been so long since we had a smoke, I couldn't resist the temp- tation." "Don't mention it," he murmured. "Suppose we have our dinner." The meal was entirely than the preceding one. Hors d'ouvres delicious broth, wild fowl, fried to a crisp brown, and fresh pineapples for dessert. Le Fevre was genial throughout the meal, greatly in contrast to his attitude on the first visit, When they had finished, he asked his guests if they would like to look through the house, They agreed gladly, and Le Fevre led them to a room of the main living room which he called iis bedroom, It did not resemble a bedroom, except for the low couch in one corner, draped with a soft rug. Rather it seemed a mu- scum, One side of the wall was filled with native pottery lined on shelves and the other side with all manner of weapons and shields, The floor was covered with a grass mat. A small table on which burned a can- dle, souttering in the half-darkness, was the only other piece of furniture besides the couch. A window at the far end was low to the ground. Like the other windows in the house, it contained no glass. All around its frame hung in a haphazard fashion were skins of small animals, mingled with bright feathers of gaudy tropi- cal birds. "This is your museum?" and Joan laughed, "Yes, all of this came from the island." Off the dining room was the kit- chen which they had only glimpsed during the first visit. Now they walked through. It was primitive, with a dirt floor and a giant open oven in one corner over which stooped an old pigmy woman, fussing with a big iron pot that was almost as large as she was. Other pigmy women were busying them- the meal, selves cleaning up after They paid no attention to the men, but several of them looked intently at Joan, appraising the tattered trousers she wore, and the straight slimness of her figure. Detached from the house was "I never did different big chair. He only raised his eyce- brows and pursed his lips, "Would you like to come down and see it some day?" Ivor inquired. "No, thanks, I'm not interested," Le Fevre shook his head emphati- cally. (To be continued.) 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