like an arrow from
the shore, sped over the still waters of the lagoon, and paddled as
swiftly as strong arms and willing hearts could urge us over the long
swell of the open sea.

All that night and the whole of the following day we plied our paddles
in almost total silence and without a halt, save twice to recruit our
failing energies with a mouthful of food and a draught of water. Jack
had taken the bearing of the island just after starting, and laying a
small pocket-compass before him, kept the head of the canoe due south,
for our chance of hitting the island depended very much on the
faithfulness of our steersman in keeping our tiny bark exactly and
constantly on its proper course. Peterkin and I paddled in the bow, and
Avatea worked untiringly in the middle.

As the sun's lower limb dipped on the gilded edge of the sea Jack ceased
working, threw down his paddle, and called a halt.

"There!" he cried, heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh; "we've put a
considerable breadth of water between us and these black rascals, so now
we'll have a hearty supper and a sound sleep."

"Hear, hear!" cried Peterkin. "Nobly spoken, Jack!--Hand me a drop of
water, Ralph.--Why, girl, what's wrong with you? You look just like a
black owl blinking in the sunshine!"

Avatea smiled. "I sleepy," she said; and as if to prove the truth of
this, she laid her head on the edge of the canoe and fell fast asleep.

"That's uncommon sharp practice," said Peterkin with a broad grin.
"Don't you think we should awake her to make her eat something first?
Or perhaps," he added with a grave, meditative look--"perhaps we might
put some food in her mouth, which is so elegantly open at the present
moment, and see if she'd swallow it while asleep.--If so, Ralph, you
might come round to the front here and feed her quietly, while Jack and
I are tucking into the victuals. It would be a monstrous economy of
time."

I could not help smiling at Peterkin's idea, which indeed, when I
pondered it, seemed remarkably good in theory; nevertheless, I declined
to put it in practice, being fearful of the result should the victuals
chance to go down the wrong throat. But on suggesting this to Peterkin,
he exclaimed:

"Down the wrong throat, man! Why, a fellow with half-an-eye might see
that if it went down Avatea's throat it could not go down the wrong
throat!--unless, indeed, you have all of a sudden become inordinately
selfish, and think that all the throats