“The good Fathers baptized her under the name of Juana Maria, and she made no protest, whatever they did, or pointed her out to do. She drooped, however, so the story goes, from the moment she left the island, seemed dazed and looked about with questioning eyes, and one day she fell from her chair in a faint and the next morning had passed quietly away. Father Francisco showed me her grave in the shadow of the Mission tower, poor lost creature, alone and lonely in a strange world!”
“And no one ever really knew who she was, or what had happened to her?” asked Ronald.
“No; how could they when they could not speak her language and she had no time to learn theirs? She might not even have been the woman they were looking for; she might not have been an Indian at all; who knows?”
“Poor, poor thing!” mourned Lesley. “Oh, what a sad story, Stump-ery, bump-ery!”
“So sad,” cried the old sailor, lifting himself from his rock, “that I forget my work. You wait here, you children; I come back one half-hour and we go where your father save me from wreck and where I lose my leg and that was one day, half good luck, half bad luck,” looking down ruefully at his crutch.
CHAPTER VI
HOW THE CAT CLIMBED
When Stumpy had gone, Ronald wandered off among the rocks looking for sea-birds’ eggs for his collection, and Lesley strolled along the shore picking up shining shells and telling herself a story. In this romantic tale she was a princess prisoned in a tower on a far-off island, but the suitors who landed there, having heard of her marvelous beauty, were unable to declare their passion as, unfortunately, she understood no tongue but her own and that was strange to all of them.
As it fell out, the long-lost prince, her brother, in command of a gallant ship, chanced to pass by the island and, arriving at exactly the right moment, was beginning to give language-lessons to the handsomest of the suitors, when—
“Hi, Lesley, hi! Where’s Ronnie?” called a hoarse voice that broke in upon her dreams.
“Ronnie? He’s right here—”