When the Good Wolf made his remark about the convenience of desert
islands, such a chattering broke out among the black monkeys in the
high branches in the cocoanut tree that Barty threw his head back as
far as he could to see what was happening.
"Why," he cried out the next instant, "they are all sitting together
at the very top of the tree as if they were holding a meeting. I am
sure they are talking to each other about something important."
"Perhaps they are talking about us," the Good Wolf said.
"I do think they are," laughed Barty. "They keep turning their heads
to look down on us." Then he jumped up and stood on his feet and
shouted out to them as he had shouted before. "Hello!" he said. "I
don't know whether you are the ones who played in the band at the
Snow Feast, but will you be friends? Let us be friends."
They all chattered so fast at this that it seemed as if they had gone
crazy.
"You can't understand what they say," said Barty, "but I believe they
mean that they will."
"Ah, they'll be friends," the Good Wolf answered. "You see, there is
something about you that _makes_ friends."
"Is there?" cried Barty, quite delighted. "I _am_ glad. I wonder what
it is that does it?"
"Well, you're a jolly little chap," said the Good Wolf. "You've got
such stout little legs, and you always seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I _am_ always enjoying myself," Barty answered. "I'm enjoying myself
now 'normously. What shall we do next?"
The Good Wolf scratched behind his right ear, and Barty saw it was
that thoughtful sort of scratch of his--the one he scratched when he
was turning things over in his mind.
"Well," he said, after being quiet for a few moments, "Robinson Crusoe
looked for a good many things that first day, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did," murmured Barty.
"Now what do you think we had better look for first?" the Good Wolf
asked him.
"What do _you_ think?" said Barty.
"I want you to tell _me_," replied the Good Wolf. "It's _your_ desert
island, you know, and you ought to take some of the responsibility."
Barty stood still and looked down at the ground, and the crowd of
black monkeys at the top of the tree looked down at _him_ and stopped
chattering as if they wanted to hear what he would say. After about a
minute he looked up.
"We can't roast potatoes unless we have a fire, and we can't have a
fire unless we have some matches, and we haven't any matches," he
said.
The Good Wolf shook his head seriously.
"No, we haven't any matches," he answered.
"Do you think we should find any if we went to look for some?" Barty
asked, feeling rather uncertain.
The Good Wolf got up and shook his fur coat thoroughly.
"There is no knowing _what_ one may find on a desert island," he
remarked. "There is absolutely no knowing." Then he stopped a minute.
"Is that all you can think of just now?" he asked Barty. "Just look
about you."
Barty looked about him on the grass and under the trees, but he saw
nothing which made him think of anything new.
"Look _all_ about you," said the Good Wolf.
So he looked not only on the ground, but up into the tree tops and
over them into the sky. It looked very blue and hot and beautiful,
but far away he saw a rather small cloud of a very queer color--it was
purplish-black and had ragged edges.
"It's a storm cloud," said the Good Wolf, looking serious, "and it's
coming towards the island. Do you see the wind beginning to stir the
tops of the trees?"
"Yes," said Barty, looking rather anxious himself. "On Robinson
Crusoe's desert island there was a kind of storm they call a tropical
storm--I don't know what 'tropical' means, but the storms were
dreadful. Is there going to be one now?"
"There is," said the Good Wolf. "Tropical storms are storms in the hot
countries, and they are not nice to be out in."
Barty gave a shout.
"Then it's a house we must find first," he said, "as quickly as ever
we can. We can't stay in the forest because the wind roots up the
trees and the lightning strikes them and they fall crashing and
crashing. We must find a house or a place to hide in. Could we run
back to the beach and dig a hole in the sand and creep into it?"
"The kind of storm that cloud is bringing here," answered the Good
Wolf, "will lash the sea into waves like mountains, and they will
roll in and cover the beach like a big tide."
"The tree tops are beginning to shake now and the monkeys are
chattering as if they were frightened," said Barty. "It's very queer
and exciting."
"We must get away from the trees," said the Good Wolf. "Are you
frightened?"
"Yes, I am frightened," answered Barty, "but there isn't any time to
cry. Shall we run as fast as ever we can and look about us everywhere
while we are running?"
"Yes," answered the Good Wolf; "we had better run to a place where
there will be nothing to fall on us. One to be ready, two to be
steady, three and--away!" And off they both started as fast as they
could, and left the monkeys chattering and screaming behind them.
There were trees everywhere except near the shore, so they ran back
towards where the sea was.
"If we stay on the cliffs the mountain waves won't dash up that high,
will they?" Barty panted as he ran.
"No, they won't," answered the Good Wolf, "but the wind may blow us
off the cliffs into the water."
"I don't see any house anywhere," said Barty.
"Neither do I," said the Good Wolf. "You don't find houses on desert
islands; you have to build them."
Barty's stout little legs were flying over the ground faster than they
had ever flown before, and he was in such a hurry he could scarcely
find breath to speak, but he gave a little gasping laugh.
"There isn't much time to build one now," he said. And the Good Wolf
grinned from ear to ear.
How they did run--over the grass and up the slopes and down the
hollows and over the green gullies! The wind came in hot puffs and
shook the tree tops, and the purplish-black cloud looked more ragged
than ever, and was growing bigger and coming nearer. By the time they
got to the bottom of the long green slope which led to the top of the
cliff they had to stop a few moments to take breath.
It was just then that Barty thought he saw a little black head dart
out of the long grass and then dart back again.
"Did you see anything near that big leaf?" he asked his companion.
"No," answered the Good Wolf.
"I thought I saw something, but perhaps I didn't," Barty said.
Then they began to climb the long green slope, and it was very steep,
and the hot puffs of wind seemed to rush down it to push them back.
"Did you see anything peep out from behind that bush?" Barty said,
stopping suddenly again.
"No," answered the Good Wolf, "nothing."
Then they climbed and climbed. The big puffs of wind grew hotter and
fiercer, and the cloud spread until it was blotting out the blue of
the skies quite fast. Barty's stout little legs were very tired.
"Did you see anything peep up from behind that bit of rock?" he said
suddenly, for the third time.
"No," answered the Good Wolf; "nothing at all."
"I was almost sure _I_ did," said Barty, "But it was gone so quickly
that I couldn't see what it was."
The Good Wolf looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Was it black?" he inquired.
"Yes," answered Barty. "Perhaps you did see it."
"No," replied the Good Wolf; "I didn't see it exactly, but I thought
that if _you_ were to see anything just at this time it would be
something black."
"Why?" asked Barty. "Why?"
"Trot along, trot along, trot along," said the Good Wolf. "We haven't
found a house yet, but at the top of the cliff there is a hollow in
the ground that we might lie down in."
The cloud had grown so big that it had spread itself over the sun and
was making the sky look quite dark. The hot wind was blowing so hard
that the Good Wolf had to bend his head and stiffen himself on his
four legs to stand up against it.
"Take hold of my hair and hold on tight!" he called out.
His thick coat was being blown all about, and Barty's curly hair was
streaming straight out behind him. The wind made such a noise that
they could hardly hear each other's voices. The waves off the shore
were rolling and breaking on the beach with a sound like thunder.
"It's getting worse," gasped the Good Wolf. "Hold on to me and we will
push as hard as we can until we get to the top."
"Th-this is a t-t-tropical storm," Barty panted.
"Do you wish you were at home?" the Good Wolf managed to ask before
the wind blew his breath away.
[Illustration: "It is getting worse," gasped the Good Wolf]
"N-no-not yet," Barty managed to shout back, almost without any breath
at all. "I s-_said_ a desert island."
"Y-y-you are a j-jolly little ch-chap!" the Good Wolf shouted back.
"Y-you are a-a st-stayer. Hold on to me tighter--here's a b-big blow
coming."
It was such a tremendous blow that they had to throw themselves flat
on the ground and let it pass over them. But they were nearly at the
top of the cliff by this time, and after a few more battles and
gasping short runs they reached the place where the green hollow was
and threw themselves down into it and huddled close together.
They lay there for some time before they could get their breath again.
"The purple-black cloud looks as if it were dragging in the sea, and
flashes are coming out of it," said Barty, when he could speak.
As soon as he could get breath again the Good Wolf sat up and
scratched behind his ear _very_ seriously.
"What has happened?" cried Barty suddenly. "It seems as if the wind
had stopped all at once."
"I'm afraid it hasn't stopped for long," the Good Wolf answered. "I
don't like the look of this at all."
A big drop fell on Barty's nose and made him jump.
"That was a 'mense drop of rain!" he cried out; "and it felt as heavy
as a stone."
"That's what I don't like," the Good Wolf said. "When the rain comes
down it will come in a deluge, and if the wind doesn't blow us over
the cliff the deluge will half drown us."
Barty gave another jump, but this time it was not because a raindrop
had startled him. It was because he heard something a few yards away
behind him. It was a squeaky, gibbering little voice, and it sounded
as if it said something very much like this:
"Chatterdy-chatterdy-chat-chat-chatterdy. Chat-chatter-chat!"
Barty heard it because the wind had stopped blowing and everything
seemed for a few moments to be quite still. He stood up to look.
"It's the black thing!" he cried out. "It's one of the black monkeys
who has followed us. He keeps popping his head in and out of a hole."
"I thought it was about time," the Good Wolf remarked. "Let us go and
look at the hole."
"Chat-chat-chattery, chattery-chatterdy," said the black monkey, as if
he were telling them to come.
They went to look, and as they drew near it the monkey kept darting in
and out and chattering all the time.
The hole was in a piece of rock which stood out of the cliff. The
opening was just big enough to crawl into.
"If we can get in it will keep the rain off us," cried Barty, and he
went right down on his stomach and crawled in to see if there was room
enough.
"Chattery-chattery-chat-chat-chatterdy," said the black monkey,
running before him.
Almost as soon as Barty had crawled into the hole he gave a shout. He
found he had crawled into an open place like a room, with walls of
rock, and on one side there was actually an opening like a window,
which looked out on the sea.
"It's a cave! It's a cave!" he called back to the Good Wolf, and the
Good Wolf came scrambling in after him.
"It's a cave in the cliff," he said, "and the storm may do what it
likes; it can't touch us. We found it just in time."
They were _only_ just in time, for at that very moment there came a
great bellowing roar of thunder and a great rushing roar of rain. But
it was all outside and they were safe and warm, and Barty danced for
joy, and the black monkey danced too.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]