les distant from this island. Now, the next
question is, from what direction does it come?"

"It's hard to tell exactly, the sound seems to fill the air so, but I
should say that it came from the westward," said Walter after another
moment of careful listening.

"We agree again," declared Charley, "it is not likely that we are both
mistaken. Now that we have settled the distance and the direction from
which the sound comes, what do you say to starting out in the morning
and trying to solve the mystery?"

"The captain will not let us go," Walter objected.

"For this once, I do not intend to consult him," Charley said. "We
will get off before he is awake. We can leave a note saying that we
will be back before dark."

"Good," exclaimed his chum, "even if we accomplish nothing else, we may
find an island that can be defended better than this one."

So it was settled and the boys crept back to bed eager for the coming
of the morrow.

The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten a little when the boys
got up and dressed, collected what cold food they could find, and,
leaving a note where the captain could not fail to find it, stole down
to the canoe and quietly embarked.

Charley's shoulder was still too sore to permit of his using the paddle
so he made himself comfortable in the bow while Walter in the stern
wielded the blade.

The canoe was headed around to the westward, as near as they could
determine, for the point from whence had come the tolling of the bell.
"I noticed what looked like a large island, from our camp, about two
miles off and in the direction we are headed," observed Walter as they
glided swiftly away.

"I noticed it too," Charley answered, "and I do not think we can do
better than start our search there, if it proves to be an island. We
will be there in an hour at this rate. I wish I could spell you, Walt,
but it don't seem right for you to be doing all the work."

"Nonsense, I am enjoying it," his chum protested, "everything about
this swamp is so novel and strange. See those cute little turtles on
every log, and those curious looking smoke-birds, and did you ever see
anything more beautiful than those trees with their hanging moss and
with every bough full of orchids of every color of the rainbow?"
Walter ceased his paddling for several minutes and the canoe drifted
slowly on while the two boys gazed with delight at the novel beauty
that surrounded them. The dark, stagnant water t