whaling, or discovering the North Pole. Every kid does that."

"They do, eh?" said Charlie, evidently quite unimpressed. "_I_ never
did."

"That's because you've about as much imagination as a turnip in that
head of yours," I broke in, in defence of my young Apollo.

"Maybe, if you're so smart," continued Charlie, paying no attention to
me, "you can navigate us through the North Bight?"

"Maybe!" answered our youngster pertly, with an odd little smile. He had
evidently recovered his nerve, and seemed to take pleasure in piquing
Charlie's bearish suspicions.

CHAPTER V

_In Which We Enter the Wilderness._

Andros, as no other of the islands, is surrounded by a ring of reefs
stretching all around its coasts. The waters inside this ring are seldom
more than a fathom or two deep, and, spreading out for miles and miles
above a level coral floor, give something of the effect of a vast
natural swimming-bath. Frequently there is no more than four or five
feet of water, and in calm weather it would be almost possible to walk
for miles across this strange sea-bottom.

Darker and solider grew the point on which our eyes were set, till at
length we were up with a thick-set, little scrub-covered island which,
compared with the low level of the line of coast stretching dimly behind
it, rose high and rocky out of the water. Hence its name, "High Cay,"
and its importance along a coast where such definite landmarks are few.

We were now inside the breakwater of the reefs, and the rolling swell of
ocean gave way at once to a millpond calmness. Through this we sped
along for some ten miles or so, following a low, barren coast-line till
at length, to our right, the water began to spread out inland like a
lake. We were at the entrance of North Bight, one of the three bights
which, dotted with numerous low-lying cays, breaks up Andros Island in
the middle, and allows a passage through a mazelike archipelago direct
to the northwest end of Cuba. Here on the northwest shore is a small and
very lonely settlement--one of the two or three settlements on the
else-deserted island--Behring's Point.

Here we dropped anchor, and Charlie, who had some business ashore,
proposed our landing with him; but here again our passenger aroused his
suspicions--though Heaven knows why--by preferring to remain aboard. If
Charlie has a fault, it is a pig-headed determination to have his own
way--but our passenger was politely obstinate.

"Plea