was unmoored again and
poled back to its old place with alacrity, made fast, the fish rolled up
in some wet seaweed, and then Bostock turned with a grim smile to his
young companion.

"Feel no better, sir," he said.

"No, Bob; if anything, worse."

"And it aren't your shoulder?"

"No," sighed Carey; "I feel faint and sinking. I suppose it was from
the shock of the pain."

"I don't, sir," said the old fellow, gruffly. "I know what's the matter
with you."

"What is it, then?" said Carey, rather anxiously.

"You've got the eight bells complaint, sir."

"What do you mean?" said Carey, suspiciously.

"Dinner-time, sir; that's what's the matter with you."

"Absurd. It can't be dinner-time yet."

"Can't it, sir? Doctor's been gone hours. Just you look up at the
sun."

It was undoubtedly beyond its highest point, and as he gradually grasped
the truth of his companion's words, though feeling no better, Carey's
despondency passed away, and he became cheerful.

Soon after, as the pair sat together in the shade of the cocoanut grove,
eating the lunch they had brought with the greatest of enjoyment, the
weary symptoms passed rapidly away, and the boy was himself again.

"I say, Bob," he said, "we must have one of those cocoanuts. Couldn't
you knock one down by throwing the hatchet?"

"P'raps it would be throwing the hatchet, sir, if I said I could," said
the old fellow, with a grim smile. "But I'll try soon. I say, I wonder
how the doctor's getting on."

"So do I. I wish he were here to have some lunch."

Carey had his wish a few minutes later, for there was a loud hail from
the open, and Carey replied to it and hurried out from the shade where
they were hidden, to find the doctor half-way down to the raft with his
gun over his shoulder and a brace of huge crowned pigeons hanging from
the barrel by their tied-together legs.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Doctor Kingsmead said nothing about his adventures until he had made a
hearty meal and grown cooler. Then he began to talk cheerily.

"Something for you to cook, Bostock," he said; "they'll make a pleasant
change after so much tinned and salt meat."

"Where did you shoot those?" asked Carey.

"Up yonder in the open forest under one of the trees, not far from the
river. There are plenty of them about, and so tame that I felt
satisfied that there were no blacks near."

"Then you've seen no signs of any, sir?" asked Bostock.

"Not a sign."

"That's