a precious shindy you kicked up in
consequence. But you were at least four yards away from the impudent
paroquet I aimed at, so you see what a horribly bad shot I am."

"But, Jack," said I, "you cannot make three bows and arrows before
to-morrow; and would it not be a pity to waste time, now that we have
made up our minds to go on this expedition?--Suppose that you make one
bow and arrow for yourself, and we can take our clubs?"

"That's true, Ralph. The day is pretty far advanced, and I doubt if I
can make even one bow before dark. To be sure, I might work by
firelight after the sun goes down."

We had, up to this time, been in the habit of going to bed with the sun,
as we had no pressing call to work o' nights; and, indeed, our work
during the day was usually hard enough--what between fishing, and
improving our bower, and diving in the Water Garden, and rambling in the
woods--so that when night came we were usually very glad to retire to
our beds. But now that we had a desire to work at night, we felt a wish
for candles.

"Won't a good blazing fire give you light enough?" inquired Peterkin.

"Yes," replied Jack, "quite enough; but then it will give us a great
deal more than enough of heat in this warm climate of ours."

"True," said Peterkin; "I forgot that. It would roast us."

"Well, as you're always doing that at any rate," remarked Jack, "we
could scarcely call it a change. But the fact is, I've been thinking
over this subject before. There is a certain nut growing in these
islands which is called the candle-nut, because the natives use it
instead of candles; and I know all about it, and how to prepare it for
burning--"

"Then why don't you do it?" interrupted Peterkin. "Why have you kept us
in the dark so long, you vile philosopher?"

"Because," said Jack, "I have not seen the tree yet, and I'm not sure
that I should know either the tree or the nuts if I did see them. You
see, I forget the description."

"Ah! that's just the way with me," said Peterkin with a deep sigh. "I
never could keep in my mind for half-an-hour the few descriptions I ever
attempted to remember. The very first voyage I ever made was caused by
my mistaking a description--or forgetting it, which is the same thing.
And a horrible voyage it was. I had to fight with the captain the whole
way out, and made the homeward voyage by swimming!"

"Come, Peterkin," said I, "you can't get even _me_ to believe that."

"Perhaps not