uch of the timber in the pile was green, and before the sun
had set a dense black cloud was rising straight up like a pillar and
spreading out into the sky. As the fire gathered strength, a great
tongue of flame flashed up ever and anon into the midst of the rolling
cloud and rent it for a single instant; by degrees those tongues waged
fierce war with the smoke. They shot through it more and more
frequently, licked and twined round it--in and out--until they gained
the mastery at last, and rose with a magnificent roar into the heavens.
Then it was that Larry O'Hale gave vent to his excitement and admiration
in an irrepressible shout, and his comrades burst into a mingled cheer
and fit of laughter, as they moved actively round the blazing mass and
stirred it into fiercer heat with boat-hooks and oars.

When night had closed in, the brilliancy of the bonfire was intense, and
the hopes of the party rose with the flames, for they felt certain that
any human beings who chanced to be within fifty miles of them could not
fail to see the signal of distress.

So the greater part of the night was passed in wild excitement and
energetic action. At last, exhausted yet hopeful, they left the bonfire
to burn itself out and sat down to watch. During the first half-hour
they gazed earnestly over the sea, and so powerfully had their hopes
been raised, that they expected to see a ship or a boat approaching
every minute. But ere long their hopes sank as quickly as they had been
raised. They ceased to move about and talk of the prospect of speedy
deliverance. The hearts of men who have been long exposed to the
depressing influence of "hope deferred," and whose frames are somewhat
weakened by suffering and insufficient food, are easily chilled. One
after another they silently crept under the sail, which had been spread
out in the form of a tent to shelter them, and with a sigh lay down to
rest. Weariness and exposure soon closed their eyes in "kind Nature's
sweet restorer--balmy sleep," and the coral island vanished utterly from
their minds as they dreamed of home, and friends, and other days. So,
starving men dream of sumptuous fare, and captives dream of freedom.

Will Osten was last to give way to the feeling of disappointment, and
last to lie down under the folds of the rude tent. He was young, and
strong, and sanguine. It was hard for one in whose veins the hot blood
careered so vigorously to believe in the possibility of