ness that fronted him,—a wavering, softly-shimmering kaleidoscope of tree and vine and flower, set in tremulous motion by the most wooing of breezes. Line or curve he could not distinguish, only blurred masses of form and colour. In all that green paradise the parrot's shriek was the only concrete thing.
He turned his back upon it, to meet the more clearly-cut curve of a white, coral-flushed shore, and suddenly the vague spell of the place assumed the sharper proportions of hunger.
A green, checker-backed turtle basked on the beach. A swift somersault, and it lay flapping ludicrously on its back. Innumerable crayfish, too, wriggled their prankish tentacles in the water. The flesh might have been eaten raw in extremity, and a three days fast could fairly be considered that, but first he took stock of his equipment.
A search in his pockets revealed a clasp-knife, almost soldered fast by rust, and the lens of a broken glass, which fortunately he had stowed away for safe-keeping, the day before the wreck.
With the latter he stole a little of the sun's flame, concentrating it on a heap of leaves and dried twigs. Soon a fire flagged its rosy invitation to the solitary banquet.
On the following day he added to this meagre menu with the aid of a crude but efficient bow, made of resilient vines and boughs, a sharp stone serving for the arrow-head. The island abounded in "agouti," little animals resembling prairie-dogs in size and shape, and their flesh he found to be not entirely unpalatable. The leaves of the wild plantain, too, were edible. A foray farther into the heart of the mysterious
