Temptations of Pleasure Island by Gilbert L. Morris

Wash grinned. “Well, what does it feel like to be idolized?”
    “I don’t care much for it,” Reb said. He sat down on a bale of hay and asked, “Got another one of those apples? I gave Lightning all of mine.”
    Fishing around in his pocket, Wash produced an apple, and Reb took out a knife to peel it.
    “The peeling’s the best part! It’s good for you,” Wash told him.
    “Aw, I always peel my apples, and I guess I always will. Now, you tend to your apples, and I’ll tend to mine.”
    The boys sat on their bales of hay, talking com-panionably. After a while, Wash went back to the subject of the autograph hunters. “You really like people yelling your name, don’t you? And girls coming and asking for your autograph?”
    “Oh, it’s all right.”
    Wash stared at his friend in amazement. “Well, I think
I’d
like it. Of course, I can’t ride a horse like you can.”
    “Let me tell you something, Wash,” Reb said.
    He gestured with the knife until Wash said, “Don’t point that thing at me. It might go off.”
    Reb closed the knife, and then his face grew sober. “Why do you think those girls came in here?”
    “Because they idolize you, like I said.”
    “What do they know about me? That is, what do they really know about Bob Lee Jackson?”
    “I suppose they know you’re a good rider.”
    “That’s right. And that’s all they know.”
    “Well, what does that prove, Reb?”
    “It proves that it isn’t
me
they like. They just like something I do. Suppose I broke a leg and couldn’t ride a horse. Would they like me then?”
    Wash seemed to think hard for a moment, and then he shook his head. “No, they’d like the fellow that took your place riding the horse.”
    “That’s right. Well, that’s why I don’t get real excited when they come around.”
    The two talked about that for a while.
    At last Reb said, “Abbey told me once that those girls that win beauty contests never feel good about themselves. They don’t know whether guys like them because of who they are or because they won a contest. That seems to be the way it is.”
    “You sure do explain things good, Reb,” Wash said. “You’re just a walking encyclopedia.”
    “Sure, anything else you’d like to know?”
    Wash thought for another moment, then said, “Would you mind explaining Einstein’s theory of relativity to me one more time?”
    Reb jumped at him, and the two wrestled around in the straw until Wash begged for mercy.
    “All right,” Reb said. “Now I’ll explain it to you.”
    Lady Maeve was meeting with the council. The king was not present today. She had told him it was not necessary for him to attend the meetings anymore.
    Maeve was well pleased with herself. She now ruled the council with an iron hand. She looked around at the men’s faces. They were still and washed of all emotion. She knew that she had frightened them all into submission.
    “The people are getting tired of the games,” she said. “The games are too mild.”
    “What are you suggesting, Master of the Council?”
    “I’m suggesting that we make the competitions more exciting. There will be some changes made, and I will expect you to back up any move I make in doing this. It’s for the good of the country. You understand me?”
    A murmur of agreement went around, and Maeve said, “Then you are dismissed!”
    Lady Maeve left the castle then and made her way to a gray building with no windows. Stepping inside, she narrowed her eyes, for the only light there came from lanterns. This was the prison of Pleasure Island.
    The warden met her and seemed flattered that she had come. “Ah, Lady Maeve,” he said. “You’ve come for an inspection.”
    “I’ve come to set one of your prisoners free.”
    The warden swallowed hard. “The king, I suppose, has signed his release?”
    “I will sign the release. That should be sufficient.”
    “Well, yes, of course, Lady Maeve. What is his name?”
    “His name is Sylvan.”
    The warden