The bamboo flagstaff was wrenched from its supports and lowered amidst
a wild commotion of the nesting sea birds. Blake came back at a jog-
trot, regardless of the fierce heat of the sun. In his arms were
gathered the tattered folds of the signal flag.

"That's one thing I'm going to take away," he said, in response to the
other's look of inquiry. "She sewed that leopard-skin dress all by
herself, with a thorn for needle, so we could have her skirt for the
flag."

"Fancy!" murmured the Englishman. "With a thorn, you say!"

Blake nodded, and followed him down the tree-ladder and back along the
cleft to the baobab. There he paused to take down his archery outfit.

"Guess I'll keep these, too, as souvenirs," he remarked. He pointed to
the blackened strips of flesh on the curing racks. "May I ask Lord
Avondale to stay to dinner?"

"Very kind, I'm sure. But I've a previous engagement," declined his
lordship.

"Now, now, Jeems. Needn't turn up your aristocratic nose at first-
class jerked antelope. Ought to 've been with us the first three days.
Great _menu_--raw fish, cocoanuts, more cocoanuts, and then, just when
we were whetting our teeth for a nice fat snake or an _entree_ of
caterpillars, I landed that old papa leopard. Managed to haggle some
of the india rubber off his bones. Tough!--but it was filling. All the
same, we didn't wear out any more teeth on him after we got up the