e were
completely out by the fatigue and excitement of the day; we must have
walked at least twelve miles since morning.

After partaking sparingly of the food which we had so fortunately
brought with us, accompanied by copious draughts of water from the
brook, we began to feel somewhat refreshed. Still we were greatly
disheartened by the gloomy and distressing circumstances, in which we
found ourselves so suddenly involved; the great uncertainty as to the
fate of our companions, and the danger that threatened our own lives
from the vindictive pursuit of a numerous body of savages. All our
energy and courage seemed for the present, at least, to be completely
broken. Browne laid down upon a couch of dry fern beneath the
many-pillared Aoa. He looked pale and ill--more so, I thought, than the
mere effects of excitement and over-exertion could account for.

Morton soon revived the question of what was now to be done.

"I suppose we must remain here for the present, at least," said Browne,
"and defend ourselves, if attacked, as well as we can."

Max suggested Palm-Islet as a place of greater security and one where we
should run less risk of discovery.

"And meantime," said Morton, "are we to give up all attempt to find
Arthur and the rest?"

"I hardly know what we can do," answered Browne, with a perplexed and
discouraged air; "we have no clue to guide us in a fresh search. If
these savages inhabit the island,--or if they remain here,--we cannot
hope to escape them long, after what has taken place; we must fall into
their hands sooner or later, and if they have captured our companions, I
am willing for my part, that it should be so. I doubt if we acted
wisely in resisting them at all,--but it is now too late to think of
that."

We continued to talk the matter over for some time, but without coming
to any definite resolution, and at length Browne dropped asleep, while
we were still discussing it.

As it began to grow dark, Max became disturbed and excited. He was
possessed by a vague conviction, for which he was unable to account,
that our lost companions were in some imminent peril, from which it was
in our power to rescue them. He was anxious to do something, and yet
seemed uncertain what to propose. Morton was equally desirous of making
a further effort to discover our lost friends; he was also quite clear
and explicit, in his notion of what ought to be done. His theory
appeared to be, that they had fal