"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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 sh.o.r.e 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 pa.s.s 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.