At no loss to comprehend that Jack was the individual pointed out by these outcries, two of the nearest of the group made a dash at him. "Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. That wasn’t even the worst thing. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. Ruth shivered; she was cold. Their flitting hands were always touching. "Where are the boys?" "In the hall.
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