twitter of birds, and
the distant lowing of some ox, they thoroughly appreciated everything,
even the rest after their tiring night's work and toilsome day.

"Are we going on now!" said Dexter at last.

"What for?" asked Bob, as he lay upon his back, with his head in a tuft
of heath.

"I don't know."

"What's the good of going on? What's the good o' being in a hurry?"

"I'm not in a hurry, only I should like to get to an island where
there's plenty of fruit."

"Ah, we shan't get to one to-day!" said Bob, yawning. Then there was
silence; and Dexter lay back watching the beautiful river, and the brown
boat as it swung easily by its chain.

Soon a butterfly flitted by--a beautiful orange brown butterfly covered
with dark spots, dancing here and there over the sylvan nook, and the
next minute Dexter as he lay on his back felt cool, and began wondering
while he looked straight up at the stars, fancying he had been called.

He felt as if he had never seen so many stars before glittering in the
dark purple sky, and he began wondering how it was that one minute he
had been looking at that spotted butterfly, and the next at the stars.

And then it dawned upon him that he must have been fast asleep for many
hours, and if he had felt any doubt about this being the right solution
of his position a low gurgling snore on his left told that Bob Dimsted
was sleeping still.

It was a novel and curious sensation that of waking up in the silence
and darkness, with the leaves whispering, and that impression still upon
him that he had been called.

"It must have been old Dan'l," he had thought at first. "Perhaps he was
in search of them," and he listened intently. Or it might have been the
men who had come upon them where they had the first fire, and they had
seen this one.

"No, they couldn't see this one, for it was out."

Dexter was about to conclude that it was all imagination, when, from far
away in the wood he heard, in the most startling way:--_Hoi hoi_--_hoo
hoo_!

He started to his feet, and was about to waken Bob, when a great
ghostly-looking bird came sweeping along the river, turned in at the
nook quite low down, and then seemed to describe a curve, passing just
over his head, and uttered a wild and piercing shriek that was
appalling.

Dexter's blood ran cold, as the cry seemed to thrill all down his spine,
and in his horror he made a rush to run away anywhere from the terrible
thing which had startled h