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coral reefs that made the natural pier of that seaside resort. Consequently the young apprentice preferred the wild scenery of the mahogany forests and the blue lagoons where the brown maids dived, to the mixed society of that delectable township. To him there was something fascinating, almost poetic, about the mahogany-hued Papuans and Polynesians. But his ideals quite saved him from falling in love with a brown maid. And it must be confessed that the Solomon Isles was not an Olympian locality, where dwelt cold, passionless Hellenic beauties, and many a dusky Nausicaa and luring Circe had tempted bold sailormen to destruction by their songs and demonstrative exhibitions of their charms. But some of the maids were innocent enough, for as Hillary wandered by Felisi beach he caught sight of a tiny Polynesian baby girl. She was busy pulling wild flowers that grew amongst the thick tavu-grass. Her tiny body shone with a hue like a new Australian sovereign as sunset bathed her little figure with its hot light. Her alert, savage ears heard the apprentice’s footsteps in the scrub. Just for a moment her thick curls tossed and sparkled among the tall fern-grass as she sped away into the forest as though she quite expected a white man to shoot her at sight!

      “I wonder what I’ll sight next; why, it’s like some fairy spot,” Hillary murmured as he watched the child disappear. Then he climbed over the reefs till he came right opposite the shore islets, where the natives swore their gods danced under the stars.

      At this spot there happened to be a wide lagoon, and on the still waters, just where the mighty banyans leaned over and made a delightful shade, floated a canoe. “The very thing!” Hillary exclaimed. In a moment he was paddling about on the lagoon in the small primitive craft. Strange birds shrieked over his head, their crimson and blue wings flashing along as they resented his intrusion into their lovely solitude. Some had eyes like sparkling jewels and long, hanging coral-red legs and feet.

      “What a bit of luck! I could paddle about here for ever!” was his comment as he swished the paddle, turned the prow of his canoe and went off full speed down the narrow creek-like passage that led to the wider stretch of water inland. “It’s like being alone on an uninhabited island,” he thought. Suddenly a hush came over the waters. Only the solitary “Kai koo-seeeek!” of a parakeet disturbed the silence. So still was the water of the lagoon that he seemed to float about on a mighty mirror. The huge buttressed banyans reflected in the deep, clear water by the banks hung upside down, twisted shapes in an abyss of blue. He could even discern the flock of shrieking, sky-winging lories as their images went wheeling silently over the wooded heights, so clearly was the forest fringe reflected in the depths.

      “Good Lord!” he gasped, as he stared on that shadow-world; and no wonder, for on the rim of the hanging cloud, high over the leaning trees of the reflected sky, sped an ornamental canoe! Its paddle was swiftly curling, like a fast-flying bird’s wing. He nearly upset his small craft, so great was his astonishment, for, looking towards the bend where the banyans hid the expanse of inland water from view, he saw that the reflected figure in the canoe was real.

      It wasn’t the canoe but the paddler that made him exclaim. “It can’t be an apparition with those hibiscus blossoms stuck in her hair,” he thought as he rubbed his eyes and stared again. The blue robe, open low at the neck, was the apprentice’s only excuse for his ridiculous idea in thinking that a beautiful princess of some unknown white race had suddenly appeared on the lagoon. She softly dipped her paddle and, shattering the blue sky and twisted boughs with one blow, came speeding towards him!

      “Am I awake?” he muttered. She had waved her paddle, welcoming his presence as though she had known him for years. At first he hesitated, thinking that one word, one sign of recognition from him would make her vanish back into her native skies. But at length he too lifted his paddle and waved most enthusiastically!

      As Hillary came closer he saw that there was sorrow in the girl’s blue eyes, as needs there must be, since Beauty is Sorrow’s legitimate child. A far-off gleam shone in them and glinted in her hair, which tumbled down to the warm white curves of her neck and round to her throat.

      It was the pretty retroussé nose that looked so human.

      Hillary took a deep breath and gazed again.

      “Fancy meeting you here!” he said as in his embarrassment he pulled his dirty kerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face to hide his confusion; then, remembering, he hastily replaced the rag-like kerchief in his pocket.

      “Fancy meeting you!” said the girl as she gave a silvery peal of laughter.

      The young apprentice’s heart began to thump. He stared into the girl’s eyes as though she had mesmerised him. A wild desire thrilled his soul as she leaned forward, still paddling softly as she returned his gaze.

      “Do you live here?—out here in the South Seas?” he murmured as he almost dropped his cheese-cutter midshipman’s cap into the water.

      “Of course I do! Do you think I live up in the sky?”

      “Shouldn’t be surprised if you did,” he responded, gaining his nerve. Then he told the girl that he thought she might have been a princess migrating or on tour in one of the intermediate steamers.

      The girl stared at hearing this sally. The look that came into her eyes made the apprentice understand the cause of the girl’s apparently bold familiarity. She was quite unworldly. She seemed to read his thoughts, for she ceased paddling and, looking almost seriously into his face, said: “I’m Gabrielle Everard. I’ve lived in these islands with Dad since I was a child. Dad took me away to Ysabel and Gualdacanar about a year ago.”

      “Did he really?” said Hillary as he metaphorically nudged himself to find her so pleasant and confidential.

      “Mother dead?” he murmured as the sea-wind drifted across the waters, sighed in the shore banyans and blew the girl’s tresses about her throat.

      “Mother’s dead, of course! Always has been so far as I can remember,” she responded, looking into the young man’s face intently, wondering why on earth his voice should sound so tender and concerned when he asked about her long-dead parent.

      They paddled side by side. The strange girl’s eyes had done a grievous thing to Hillary’s soul. The feathery palms and old trees, catching the sea-winds, seemed to whisper cherished things of romance and long-forgotten lover to his ears. It took him that way because he was an amateur musician.

      “What a beautiful voice you’ve got!” said he, as she dipped her paddle in perfect tempo to some wild melody that she sang in a minor key.

      “Have I? Why, Dad says I’ve got a voice like a cockatoo!” she responded merrily.

      “The wicked, unmusical old bounder!” said the apprentice; then he swiftly apologised.

      “Oh, you needn’t be so sorry that you’ve said that. I don’t care a cuss!”

      Once more Hillary metaphorically rubbed his hands. “Jove! What an original, fascinating creature the girl is, to be sure,” was his secret comment. Had the young apprentice known that the girl before him had danced on a heathen pae pae (stage) and sang before those cannibalistic tribal warriors the night before, he would most probably have been more fascinated by her presence than ever!

      “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! What a name! Beautiful!” he murmured to himself as the girl dipped the paddle and sang on. By now they had arrived near the sandy shore of the inland lagoon.

      “Must you go?” he said.

      “Well, yes; but I can easily see you again, can’t I?” Hillary L—— made no articulate response. “And this is the Solomon Isles, remote from civilisation, far away in the cannibalistic South Seas!” he murmured deep within his happy soul.

      But mad as Hillary was, he half realised that the girl before him was more of a child than a woman. She laughed, even giggled a little, like a happy child. Only five years had passed since she had played with the native kiddies, who many times had persuaded her to dance and sing their heathen songs as they pretended to be heathen chiefs and chiefesses performing on a toy pae pae. She had revelled in those dances. But no one would have dreamed by looking at