land. Transferring
his hands to his mouth, he used them as a trumpet, and gave forth a
shout the like of which had never startled the echoes of the place
before.

"It's no use, sir," said Massan; "he's past hearin'. I'm afeerd that
they're off in the direction o' the White Bear Hills, in hopes o'
gittin' a shot."

"Try again, Massan," urged Stanley; "raise your pipe a little higher.
Perhaps it will reach them."

Massan shook his head. "Try it, Bryan," he said, turning to the
Irishman, who was sitting on a rock leisurely filling his short, black
pipe.

"Is it to halloo ye want me?" replied Bryan, rising. "Shure the great
gun of Athlone itself could niver hold a candle to ye, Massan, at
yellin'; but I'll try, anyhow;" and putting his hands to his mouth he
gave forth a roar compared to which Massan's was nothing. There was a
sort of crack in the tone of it, however, that was so irresistibly
ridiculous that the whole party burst incontinently into a fit of
laughter. Loud though it was, it failed to reach the ears of those in
the little canoe, which in a few seconds doubled the point and
disappeared.

"Ah, bad luck to it!" said Bryan, in disgust; "the pipe's damaged
intirely. Small pace to ye, Bob Mahone; for shure it was howlin' and
screechin' at your wake like a born scrandighowl that broke it."

"Never mind, lad; what remains of it is not bad," said Stanley,
laughing, as he proceeded to open the box containing his scientific
instruments.

Meanwhile his wife and Edith wandered along the rocks picking up shells
and pebbles; and the men dispersed, some to smoke and chat, others to
search for eggs. Bryan and La Roche, who were both aspiring geniuses,
and had formed a sort of rough attachment to each other, asked
permission to take a walk to the point ahead, where they would wait for
the canoes. Having obtained it, they set off at a good round pace, that
would have been "throublesome to kape up," as Bryan remarked, "with
payse in yer shoes!"

"Why you come for to jine de company?" inquired La Roche, as they jogged
along.

"Why? bekase I'd nothin' else to do, as the ould song says. Ye see,
Losh," (Bryan had invented a contraction for his friend's name, which he
said was "convanient")--"ye see, Losh, there may be more nor wan raison
for a gintleman lavin' his native land in order to thravel in furrin
parts. It's thrue I had nothin' in the univarse to do, for I could
niver git work nohow, an' whin I got