t be
uneasy; they'll come back as soon as they've got over the scaring. I
daresay we shall see or hear of them before night."

My uncle's words brought back the hungry feeling which had been swept
away, and I saw to the breakfast, making the coffee and frizzling some
slices of bacon, the meal being thoroughly enjoyable, eaten there in the
shade of a great tree, while everything around looked beautiful in the
extreme; and it was not until my morning hunger was nearly appeased that
the flies and the flying thoughts of our late companions tormented me
much.

Then they began to get worse; and in a fit of sympathy I felt ashamed of
enjoying my meal so well while those two poor fellows were suffering
from hunger and fear.

"What's the matter, Nat?" said my uncle; and then, "Look! Who'd have
thought of seeing humming-birds so near the sea?"

I did not reply, for I did not know which part of my uncle's remark to
answer first; so I stared at the lovely little birds flitting about some
flowers.

"Steamer's getting a good way along," said my uncle, after a few
minutes' silence. "Here, I must have two or three of those little
beauties."

"They're not quetzals, uncle," I said, smiling.

"No; but I'm not going to miss getting rare specimens, Nat. We may not
find the quetzals, and we must not go back empty-handed. Is the anchor
quite fast?"

"Yes, uncle, perfectly," I said.

"Then let's get what good birds we can while we're waiting. The sound
of our guns may bring those fellows back."

He was right, for about mid-day, when we were busily preparing some
skins of the lovely little humming-birds we had shot, I caught up the
gun by my side, for their was a peculiar piping cry.

"What bird's that?" I said, in a sharp whisper.

"_Pee-wew_!" came softly.

"Some kind of sea bird," said my uncle. "It sounds like a gull."

I laughed, and laid down my gun.

"Why are you doing that?" said my uncle.

"_Pee-wee_!" came the cry again.

"_Pee-wee_!" I whistled, and then I shouted aloud, "All right!
Steamer's gone."

There was the cracking of twigs and a loud rustling sound, followed by
the sight of Pete, who crept out from among the bushes, hot, panting,
and with face and hands terribly scratched.

"Sure she's gone, Master Nat?" he said dolefully.

"Sure? Yes," I cried. "It wasn't our ship at all."

"There, I knowed it warn't all the time, only Bill Cross said he was
sure it were. Here, come out! Way he! it'