beast, stretching his cramped neck, rose in one mighty plunge and
planted his feet on the sand of the island.

* * * * *

Bles, hurrying down in the morning with new tools and new determination,
stopped and stared in blank amazement. Zora was perched in a tree
singing softly and beneath a fat black mule was finishing his breakfast.

"Zora--" he gasped, "how--how did you do it?"

She only smiled and sang a happier measure, pausing only to whisper:

"Dreams--dreams--it's all dreams here, I tells you."

Bles frowned and stood irresolute. The song proceeded with less
assurance, slower and lower, till it stopped, and the singer dropped to
the ground, watching him with wide eyes. He looked down at her, slight,
tired, scratched, but undaunted, striving blindly toward the light with
stanch, unfaltering faith. A pity surged in his heart. He put his arm
about her shoulders and murmured:

"You poor, brave child."

And she shivered with joy.

All day Saturday and part of Sunday they worked feverishly. The trees
crashed and the stumps groaned and crept up into the air, the brambles
blazed and smoked; little frightened animals fled for shelter; and a
wide black patch of rich loam broadened and broadened till it kissed,