flight and approach the ground."

"Forgotten their umbrellas, perhaps."

"When they make a halt, outposts are established to keep a look out
while the troop sleeps."

"And, in cases of alarm, the outposts fire and fall in as a matter of
course."

"Great Rono," said Jack, "you are become a downright quiz. I have
finished my letter whilst you have been discussing the poultry," he
added, handing the pen to his brother, "and it only waits your
postscriptum." Fritz having added a few lines, the epistle was sealed,
and was then attached to one of the pigeons, which, after hovering a
short time round the pinnace, took a flight upwards and disappeared in
the clouds.

They were now in sight of a large island, which bore no traces of
habitation. There was a heavy surf beating on the shore, but the case
was urgent, so Willis and Jack embarked in the canoe, and, after a
hard fight with the waves, landed on the beach.

Each of them were armed with a double-barrelled rifle, and furnished
with a boatswain's whistle. The whistle was to signal the discovery of
water, and a rifle shot was to bring them together in case of danger.
These arrangements being made, Jack proceeded in the direction of a
thicket, which stood at the distance of some hundred yards from the
shore. He had no sooner reached the cover in the vicinity of the trees
than he was pounced upon by two ferocious-looking savages. They gave
him no time to level his rifle or to draw a knife. One of his captors
held his hands firmly behind his back, whilst the other dragged him
towards the wood. At this moment the Pilot's whistle rang sharply
through the air. This put an end to any hopes that Jack might have
entertained of being rescued through that means. Had he sounded the
whistle, it would only have led Willis to suppose that he had heard
the signal, and was on his way to join him.

Poor Jack judged, from the aspect of the men who held him, that they
were cannibals, and consequently that his fate was sealed, for if his
surmises were correct, there was little chance of the wretches
relinquishing their prey. Jack had often amused himself at the expense
of the anthropophagi, but here he was actually within their grasp.
Though death terminates the sorrows and the sufferings of man, and
though the result is the same in whatever shape it comes, yet there
are circumstances which cause its approach to be regarded with terror
and dismay. In one's bed, exhausted by old age or d