ging down.
The wind was now blowing, but it needed almost a gale to hold out that
cumbrous canvas. Close by were the smouldering remains of what had
been a huge fire, and all around this were chips and sticks. In the
immediate neighborhood were some bark dishes, in some of which were
shrimps and mussels. Clams and lobsters lay around, with shells of
both.

Not far off was a canvas tent, which looked singularly comfortable and
cosy.

Captain Corbet looked at all this, and shook his head.

"Bad--bad--bad," he murmured, in a doleful tone. "My last hope, or,
rayther, one of my last hopes, dies away inside of me. This is wuss
than findin' a desert place."

"Why? Hasn't he been here? He must have been here," cried Bart.
"These are his marks. I dare say he's here now--perhaps asleep--in the
camp. I'll go--"

"Don't go--don't--you needn't," said Captain Corbet, with a groan. "You
don't understand. It's ben no pore castaway that's come here--no pore
driftin lad that fell upon these lone and desolate coasts. No--never
did he set foot here. All this is not the work o' shipwracked people.
It's some festive picnickers, engaged in whilin away a few pleasant
summer days. All around you may perceive the signs of luxoorious
feastin. Here you may see all the different kind o' shellfish that the
sea produces. Yonder is a luxoorious camp. But don't mind what I say.
Go an call the occoopant, an satisfy yourselves."

Captain Corbet walked with the boys over to the tent. His words had
thrown a fresh dejection over all. They felt the truth of what he
said. These remains spoke not of shipwreck, but of pleasure, and of
picnicking. It now only remained to rouse the slumbering owner of the
tent, and put the usual questions.

Bart was there first, and tapped at the post.

No answer.

He tapped again.

Still there was no answer.

He raised the canvas and looked in. He saw the mossy interior, but
perceived that it was empty. All the others looked in. On learning
this they turned away puzzled.

"Wal, I thought so," said Captain Corbet. "They jest come an go as the
fancy takes 'em. They're off on Cape d'Or to-day, an back here
to-morrer."

As he said this he seated himself near the tent, and the boys looked
around with sad and sombre faces.

It was now about half past five, and the day had dawned for some time.
In the east the fog had lifted, and the sun was shining brightly.

"I told you thar'd be a change