.

"Not many fish to land," said Dick rather dismally.

"Why, you wouldn't fish!" replied Tom. "Never mind, we've found the
island. Shall we build a place?"

Dick's reply was in the affirmative, and for the next two hours they
debated on the subject of what they should take over, and how soon, and
so passed the time away till after dark, when, being still quite a mile
from home, there came the sharp report of a gun, and then they fancied
that they heard a cry.

"Why, who can be shooting now?" said Dick in an awe-stricken whisper.
"Is anything wrong?"

"I don't know. Look! look!"

Tom whispered these words, and pointed in the opposite direction, to a
lambent light which seemed to be moving slowly over the marshy edge of
the mere.

The light was in a portion of the shore where the mere narrowed; and the
two lads let the boat drift as they sat and watched, each thinking of
the place in the light of experience.

"Why, Tom, that can't be a boat," whispered Dick.

"Boat! No, it's land there."

"Land! It's soft bog that nobody could walk on!"

"Then it couldn't be a boat. Why, it's a will-o'-the-wisp."

"Yes," said Dick, after a sceptical pause, during which he watched the
lambent light as it played about in a slow fantastic way, just as if it
were a softly-glowing lantern carried by a short-winged moth, which used
it to inspect the flowering plants as it sought for a meal. "Let's go
over and look at it."

"No, no! no, no!" whispered Tom excitedly.

"Why not? Are you afraid?"

"No, not a bit; but I don't want to go. I'm tired and hungry. I don't
believe you want to go either."

"Yes, I do," said Dick eagerly. "I feel as if I wanted to go, but my
body didn't."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Tom, but very softly, as he kept his eyes fixed on
the distant light. "That's a nice way of backing out of it. Why,
you're as much afraid as I am, only I'm honest and you're not."

"Yes, I am," whispered Dick. "I'm as honest as you are, and I'll show
you that I am. There, I should feel afraid to go by myself."

"Will you go if I go with you?"

Before Dick could answer there was a long, low, piteous cry from the
other direction, that from whence they had heard the shot.

"I say, what's that?" whispered Tom in an awe-stricken tone.

"I don't know. It sounds very queer. There it is again."

"Is it a bird?" whispered Tom.

"No. I never heard a bird cry like that."

"What is it then--a fox trapped?"

"