200 OVER ON THE ISLAND

over and look, though. Come with me if you like . . . ”

“No, thanks!” we echoed hurriedly.

The stranger vanished in the direction of the grove. Just as he arrived there the light disappeared again. Then it flashed. Then it disappeared once more. It seemed such a long time before the stranger reappeared

and then the light was gone.

“Don’t be nervous,” he assured us. “Some wood— cutters left their fire going at the foot of a tree. The fire caught on some balsam higher up, and every time the breeze caught it, it flared up. When the breeze died down, so did the ghost. Good-night, girls.”

“Want to go back—and dig? ” asked Jean nervously.

“W-e-l-l . . . Isn’t it rather late?”

”Of course it is, ” said Jean gratefully.

2

Lennox Island—the favourite haunt of the abori- gines. Can this be it, this scarcely populated, barren island? What on earth did the Indians see in this place? They had their choice of all the land on Prince Edward Island. They wandered hither and yon through its forests and along its rivers. But always they returned to this desolate little fringe of sandy, salt-blown shore line.

Why?

Perhaps it was not always like this. Perhaps in those far-off days the trees grew more luxuriantly, the soil redder, and the birds sang more sweetly there. To be sure, in those days there were no modern square white houses to be seen. Wigwams, instead, were the order of the day. They were home to the Indians,