id Otto, with a solemn look, "how are we to make a fire?"

"By kindling it, of course."

"Yes, but, you stupid Premier, where are we to find a light?"

"To tell you the truth, my boy," returned Dominick, "I never thought of
that till this moment, and I can't very well see my way out of the
difficulty."

Pauline, to whom the brothers now looked, shook her head. Never before,
she said, had she occasion to trouble her brain about a light. When she
wanted one in England, all she had to do was to call for one, or strike
a match. What was to be done in their present circumstances she had not
the smallest conception.

"I'll tell you what," said Otto, after several suggestions had been made
and rejected, "this is how we'll do it. We will gather a lot of dry
grass and dead sticks and build them up into a pile with logs around it,
then Pina will sit down and gaze steadily at the heart of the pile for
some minutes with her great, brown, sparkling eyes she should be able to
kindle a flame in the heart of almost anything in five minutes--or, say
ten, at the outside, eh?"

"I should think," retorted the Queen, "that your fiery spirit or
flashing wit might accomplish the feat in a shorter time."

"It seems to me," remarked Dominick, who had been thinking too hard to
pay much regard to these pleasantries, "that if we live long here we
shall have to begin life over again--not our own lives, exactly, but the
world's life. We shall have to invent everything anew for ourselves;
discover new methods of performing old familiar work, and, generally,
exercise our ingenuity to the uttermost."

"That may be quite true, you philosophic Premier," returned Otto, "but
it does not light our fire, or roast that old hen which you brought down
with a stone so cleverly to-day. Come, now, let us exercise our
ingenuity a little more to the purpose, if possible."

"If we had only some tinder," said Dominick, "we could find flint, I
dare say, or some hard kind of stone from which fire could be struck
with the back of a clasp-knife, but I have seen nothing like tinder
to-day. I've heard that burnt rag makes capital tinder. If so, a bit
of Pina's dress might do, but we can't burn it without fire."

For a considerable time the trio sought to devise some means of
procuring fire, but without success, and they were at last fain to
content themselves with another cold supper of cocoa-nut and water,
after which, being rather tired, they went to re