Atlanta Daily World

CAST INTO EDEN
BY ROWLAND HENRY C

Jerome Crain, young ship-builder, and a lovely society girl, named Linda, escape in a skiff from a yacht held in quarantine off San Cristobal. Jerome and Linda dislike each other: but, nevertheless, are willing to risk being mutually bored rather than endure an indefinite stay aboard ship. From the moment they land on a strange island, queer happenings occur. Their boat is set adrift, their clothing stolen: yet there is no other sign of a living human, except periodic cries from the jungle. Exploring, they come upon a small plantation and house having every appearance of being well tended but vacant. In it they find some priceless Spanish chests, a heavy whip, plenty of food, but no clothing. The cruel whip worries them. Suddenly a bell clangs and again weird screams are heard. Darkness falls and still no one arrives. Dozing on the porch, Jerry awakens with the creepy impression that something had brushed his face. Soon Linda shrieks—her slip had been torn off her by unseen hands in the dark. Then comes a slithering sound at the end of the veranda and again that mocking cry. Terrified, Jerome and Linda lock themselves in the house.

CHAPTER IX

They groped their way into the bedroom and to the big tropical cane-bottomed bed. It was not much of a couch for comfort until one got used to it but at least it was cool. A little too cool for the relaxation of restful sleep, Jerome discovered in the early morning chill. Linda had found the same a little earlier than he was aware of it.

A soft green glow was filtering through the slits in the jalousies. Without awakening Linda, who was deep in the restful sleep of security, Jerome slipped out into the sweet fragrant morning. It was already growing hot even in that heavily shaded glen. The terrors of the night had withdrawn themselves.

Jerome followed the little path down to the beach in the hope of sighting some sort of vessel in the offing. But all that he saw was a smooth sea, very distant mountains, and the dazzling blue sky.

A file of pelicans, composed as always of an odd number, paralleled the surf, executed a right oblique and halted in the cove. It was where Linda had bathed. It looked to Jerome like a good place for shellfish, limpets, crabs and periwinkles—"dog whelks" as the early voyagers called them. The tide was high and the sand a little firmer back of the beach. It was blown in ripples like a frozen breeze on the water's surface.

Jerome saw where tracks of some sort had disturbed it over to the right. They were curious and he could make nothing of them. It looked as if a number of individuals, young and old, had passed that way single file. But the children had moved out of line enough to show that they had been romping, turning cart-wheels, and walking on their hands. The sand was too dry and deep to give clear-cut imprints. He could see in a general way that it must have been a little party of bare-footed natives. Probably the Gae that had stolen Linda's clothes, and afterwards his own. He had proof of this in coming upon one of Linda's sheer silk stockings. It was torn into ribbons as if the children had struggled for possession. So

dangled from a low palm frond in a way that was not in rhythm with Nature's arrangement. These curious fruits of the palm were Linda's shoes. The laces were knotted and some impish youngster had tossed them over the palm leaf stem. It looked as if this act had been inspired by malice because the shapely foot gear could not be crowded on to the splay feet of any of the party. He managed to knock them free with a thrown stick.

Jerome was so pleased that he hurried back without further scouting. When he came to the steep ledge that made the natural dam for the pool the noise of the little fall drowned other splashings. He came therefore unaware upon Linda waist deep in the pool. He held up the shoes. She slid back into the water.

"Where did you find them?" she asked.

"Hanging from the stem of a palm leaf. I told you these pests were half-witted native kids."

He dropped the shoes on the bank and went on to the house. Linda lying prone in the shallow water and raised on her elbows made a lovely picture. He was irritated at her indifference to his presence. She didn't seem to care any more than if he were a dog. He could not be sure whether this was due to lack of modesty or sensible acceptance of a situation that she could not help, or merely because he did not matter enough for her to care. He stooped to pick up a jagged chunk of ligneous stone weighing about ten pounds. Linda called.

"Don't break anything just yet."

"Why not?"

"Now that I've got my shoes we can go to where that bell was ringing and get hold of somebody and make them give back my dress and fit you out."

"You can't cruise around in nothing but a pair of deck shoes and a wisp or two of lace."

"Give me your shirt. It's long enough to make a kilt. You're so much taller."

He slipped it off and tossed it back to her.

"All right."

"We'll find out what's back there first."

Jerome gathered some eggs and was getting breakfast when Linda joined him. She made a bizarre and beautiful figure. His sleeveless undershirt she had caught round her waist by tendrils of flowering jasmine so that it kilted.

"Not so bad, is it Jerry?"

"It's those stylish deck shoes that make you look indecent."

"They're as priceless as his horse to a man in the Bad Lands. Can't you protect your own feet some way?"

"I'll cut off a strip of your grass sleeping mat and bandage them. That bell wasn't far."

"No, and it sounded as if somebody was hitting it with his fist."

"No, it sounded muffled."

After breakfast Jerome cut long strips from the soft and supple sleeping mat by laying it on a flat stone and slashing with a piece of glass from a bottle. These strips he wound round his feet and up his ankles to make a buskin with some pieces of bark between it and his soles.

(To Be Continued)