asked.

Rufus Dawes laughed, with a sort of bitterness in his tones. "Do you
think I have been at 'the settlement' all my life? The thing is very
simple, it is merely evaporation."

Frere burst out in sudden, fretful admiration: "What a fellow you are,
Dawes! What are you--I mean, what have you been?"

A triumphant light came into the other's face, and for the instant he
seemed about to make some startling revelation. But the light faded, and
he checked himself with a gesture of pain.

"I am a convict. Never mind what I have been. A sailor, a shipbuilder,
prodigal, vagabond--what does it matter? It won't alter my fate, will
it?"

"If we get safely back," says Frere, "I'll ask for a free pardon for
you. You deserve it."

"Come," returned Dawes, with a discordant laugh. "Let us wait until we
get back."

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't want favour at your hands," he said, with a return of the old
fierceness. "Let us get to work. Bring up the rushes here, and tie them
with a fishing line."

At this instant Sylvia came up. "Good afternoon, Mr. Dawes. Hard at
work? Oh! what's this in the kettle?" The voice of the child acted like
a charm upon Rufus Dawes. He smiled quite cheerfully.

"Salt, miss. I am going to catch the goats with that."

"Catch the goats! How? Put it on their tails?" she cried merrily.

"Goats are fond of salt, and when I get over to the Pilot Station I
shall set traps for them baited with this salt. When they come to
lick it, I shall have a noose of catgut ready to catch them--do you
understand?"

"But how will you get across?"

"You will see to-morrow."

CHAPTER XIV. A WONDERFUL DAY'S WORK.

The next morning Rufus Dawes was stirring by daylight. He first got his
catgut wound upon a piece of stick, and then, having moved his frail
floats alongside the little rock that served as a pier, he took a
fishing line and a larger piece of stick, and proceeded to draw a
diagram on the sand. This diagram when completed represented a rude
outline of a punt, eight feet long and three broad. At certain distances
were eight points--four on each side--into which small willow rods were
driven. He then awoke Frere and showed the diagram to him.

"Get eight stakes of celery-top pine," he said. "You can burn them where
you cannot cut them, and drive a stake into the place of each of these
willow wands. When you have done that, collect as many willows as you
can get. I shall not be back until