early, and at daybreak rekindled my fire and
got my breakfast. All the time the companionship of the dog was an
unspeakable comfort to me.

It was now the day my father had fixed for my meeting with George, and my
excitement (with which I have not yet troubled the reader, though it had
been consuming me ever since I had left Harris's hut) was beyond all
bounds, so much so that I almost feared I was in a fever which would
prevent my completing the little that remained of my task; in fact, I was
in as great a panic as I had been about the gold that I had left. My
hands trembled as I took the watches, and the brooches for Yram and her
daughters from my saddle-bags, which I then hung, probably on the very
bough on which my father had hung them. Needless to say, I also hung my
saddle and bridle along with the saddle-bags.

It was nearly seven before I started, and about ten before I reached the
hiding-place of my knapsack. I found it, of course, quite easily,
shouldered it, and toiled on towards the statues. At a quarter before
twelve I reached them, and almost beside myself as I was, could not
refrain from some disappointment at finding them a good deal smaller than
I expected. My father, correcting the measurement he had given in his
book, said he thought that they were about four or five times the size of
life; but really I do not think they were more than twenty feet high, any
one of them. In other respects my father's description of them is quite
accurate. There was no wind, and as a matter of course, therefore, they
were not chanting. I wiled away the quarter of an hour before the time
when George became due, with wondering at them, and in a way admiring
them, hideous though they were; but all the time I kept looking towards
the part from which George should come.

At last my watch pointed to noon, but there was no George. A quarter
past twelve, but no George. Half-past, still no George. One o'clock,
and all the quarters till three o'clock, but still no George. I tried to
eat some of the ship's biscuits I had brought with me, but I could not.
My disappointment was now as great as my excitement had been all the
forenoon; at three o'clock I fairly cried, and for half an hour could
only fling myself on the ground and give way to all the unreasonable
spleen that extreme vexation could suggest. True, I kept telling myself
that for aught I knew George might be dead, or down with a fever; but
this would not do