the shore of the lagoon, was low and regular, and so well
protected by the wall of trees along the ridge that no storm could ever
send more than a passing ripple along its sandy marges. Eternal shelter
reigned there.

On one of the other islands, a few hundred yards away--for the rest of
the party slept late this first morning, and we took to the canoe--we
discovered a spring of fresh water untainted by the brackish flavour of
the Baltic, and having thus solved the most important problem of the
Camp, we next proceeded to deal with the second--fish. And in half an
hour we reeled in and turned homewards, for we had no means of storage,
and to clean more fish than may be stored or eaten in a day is no wise
occupation for experienced campers.

And as we landed towards six o'clock we heard the clergyman singing as
usual and saw his wife and Sangree shaking out their blankets in the
sun, and dressed in a fashion that finally dispelled all memories of
streets and civilisation.

"The Little People lit the fire for me," cried Maloney, looking natural
and at home in his ancient flannel suit and breaking off in the middle
of his singing, "so I've got the porridge going--and this time it's
_not_ burnt."

We reported the discovery of water and held up the fish.

"Good! Good again!" he cried. "We'll have the first decent breakfast
we've had this year. Sangree'll clean 'em in no time, and the Bo'sun's
Mate--"

"Will fry them to a turn," laughed the voice of Mrs. Maloney, appearing
on the scene in a tight blue jersey and sandals, and catching up the
frying-pan. Her husband always called her the Bo'sun's Mate in Camp,
because it was her duty, among others, to pipe all hands to meals.

"And as for you, Joan," went on the happy man, "you look like the spirit
of the island, with moss in your hair and wind in your eyes, and sun and
stars mixed in your face." He looked at her with delighted admiration.
"Here, Sangree, take these twelve, there's a good fellow, they're the
biggest; and we'll have 'em in butter in less time than you can say
Baltic island!"

I watched the Canadian as he slowly moved off to the cleaning pail. His
eyes were drinking in the girl's beauty, and a wave of passionate,
almost feverish, joy passed over his face, expressive of the ecstasy of
true worship more than anything else. Perhaps he was thinking that he
still had three weeks to come with that vision always before his eyes;
perhaps he was thinking of his d