"Come on," whispered Neale. "I want to show you my hens."

At that statement Ruth began to laugh again, but Agnes scrambled into her outer clothing, greatly excited by what Neale had promised her.

CHAPTER XV

ADVENTURES OF THE CASTAWAYS

"Now shush! And listen!" whispered Neale, when he grabbed Agnes' wrist just outside the girls' tent.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"If you don't keep still," Neale warned her, "you'll miss seeing my flock of chickabiddies."

"You are fooling, Neale O'Neil. You know you are," she murmured.

"You come on, and keep still," he said, still dragging her by the wrist.

"Don't even whisper. The fog is rising slowly and the dawn will soon appear. My flock is scary in the daylight--"

"Oh, pshaw!" muttered Agnes. "You just sound silly."

"I'm not as silly as a girl of your age must be not even to imagine what kind of eggs those were," chuckled Neale.

"I knew there was a trick in it!"

"Shush!" he warned her again. "If you don't mind frightening my flock, don't wake up everybody else in the camp."

She was silent when they came to the edge of the palm grove. It was already growing light over the sea, and the ma.s.s of fog that had covered everything during the night was lifting and rolling back upon itself.

Something moved on the sand not twenty feet from where the girl and boy stood.

"Oh! What is that?" queried Agnes.

"Hear 'em?" said Neale. "That shuffling sound? I bet there are a hundred of 'em on this sh.o.r.e."

"Neale O'Neil! What does it mean?" gasped the girl, in wonder.

"It means that we are on one of the Tortugas. We must be. And this desert strand is populous at night, sure enough."

"Turtles!" shrieked Agnes.

At once the sliding and shuffling noise increased. The first beams of the sun coming up out of the eastern ocean began to separate the strands of mist. The boy and girl peered earnestly out upon the open sh.o.r.e.

"There's one!" gasped Agnes. "A big fellow! Wish we could catch it to show to the children, Neale."

"I mean to catch it," declared Neale, running down from the cocoanut grove, a stick in his hand. "And more than one."

"Going to make it lay more eggs?" giggled Agnes, keeping step with him.

"My dear girl! That is fresh meat for us. Fish and clams are all right.

But here is the nicest kind of meat-better than chicken. And nourishing fat. My flock not only will supply us with eggs at this season of the year, but the turtle will give us ragout and soup beyond compare."

"Why, you talk like a French chef, Neale O'Neil," she cried.

"Say rather like a hungry American boy who wants variety. Ah! This is a monster, Aggie!"

They almost fell over a turtle which was bigger around than the bottom of an ordinary tub. Neale stuck his stick under it, heaved persistently, and the struggling, hissing creature went over on its back.

"Now look him in the beak," laughed Neale. "But keep away from his flippers. Those claws are sharp."

"Goodness!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the girl. "What do you think! Here is another!"

"We'll turn over a couple more. They can't very well get back on their stomachs and crawl away. You see, they all beat it for the sea about sunrise and go to feeding on kelp and the like down on the rocky bottom.

They come ash.o.r.e to lay their eggs-and-and visit together, I suppose,"

he added, rather confused in his mind regarding the natural history of the sea-turtle.

Twice he pitched upon a scrambling turtle and turned it over. The three were well above highwater mark, so the sea could not roll in and aid them to escape.

"And now," pursued the boy, "let us hunt the haymow for eggs for breakfast."

"How ridiculous! What do you mean-'haymow'? Where do those funny things lay their eggs?"

"Wait," urged Neale O'Neil. "It is getting lighter now, so we can see better. Look along the sands up here near the jungle. If there is a sort of round place patted down-not just smooth, but hard-that may be a nest.

The turtle scoops out the nest with its fore-flippers, lays the eggs smoothly in the saucer, and then covers back the sand and beats it down with its flippers. Look! There is a likely place!"

Agnes fell on her knees immediately and began to scratch away the sand.

She came, not more than two inches below the surface, to the huddle of leathery-skinned eggs.

"Dear me, Neale! How exciting this is. I thought I should cry myself to sleep last night because I was a Miss Crusoe. But I went to sleep so fast that I forgot to cry. And now _this_! Why, being cast away on a desert island is lots of fun, I think."

Later, the two smaller girls quite agreed with Agnes on this point. But Ruth looked at the situation more soberly.

When they were all up and had bathed their faces at the edge of the water--

"But I feel sticky!" Tess observed, after her ablutions were performed.

"I might just as well have not washed my face. And if there isn't anything but salt water here on this island, shall we have to drink only coffee and tea?"

"I'd rather have milk," said Dot thoughtfully. "I guess if Neale found hens here he can find cows, too," and she laughed.

"Of course I can find milk," declared Neale O'Neil promptly. "And don't worry about the salt water for washing your face, Tess. It is very good for your eyes, sea-water is."

Luke looked sideways at Ruth and muttered:

"Some boy, that Neale. He'd be cheerful at the bottom of a well."

"We must admit Neale O'Neil is a very good person to have along if one is to be cast away on an uninhabited island," said the critical sister, smiling. "But where, do you suppose, will he find the milk?"