own
from the spring. A soft breeze stirred the palm trees and the tropical
foliage was brilliant. It would have been difficult to find any more
beautiful spot than this little island, set like a jewel, on the bosom
of the sparkling sea. The spell of it affected every member of the party
and few words were spoken as they walked along.

Soon they came within sight of the cave.

"There's Pop," exclaimed John. "It's about time he got back."

"He'll certainly be excited when he hears about the shark," said Grant.
"I wish he had been there with us."

"He's been up to something himself probably," said Fred. "You can trust
him for stirring things up, no matter where he is."

"Well, I guess he has been up to something," exclaimed John. "Look at
what he's got up there."

CHAPTER XXI

A NEW MEMBER

"Come on," cried John excitedly. "Let's get up there and see it."

"How do you suppose he ever did it?" exclaimed Grant. "He's a great one,
all right."

Scrambling and hustling up over the rocks George's four companions vied
with one another as to who should be the first to reach the cave. John's
long legs would ordinarily have won the race for him, but he was
weakened by the effects of his experience in the water, and Grant
outdistanced him. The rest were close behind, however, and all arrived
almost together.

"Where did you get it, Pop?" demanded Grant eagerly.

"Oh, down at the other end of the island," said George evasively.

His face was wreathed in smiles, however, and he was very proud of his
exploit.

"I don't see how you did it," exclaimed Fred.

"I'm clever."

"Don't get funny," warned Grant. "We'll take it out of you if you get
fresh."

"You can't touch me now," said George loftily.

"What's the reason we can't?"

"Because if you do, I'll--"

He did not finish the sentence. Instead he leaped to his feet and
hanging on to one hand howled with pain. His friends, however, instead
of sympathizing with him, all with one accord shrieked delightedly.

"Whew!" cried George feelingly. "He's a good biter all right."

"He," in this case referred to a small green parrot which George had
been holding in both hands. In some way it had wriggled loose from his
grasp and twisting its head around had taken a good sized bit of flesh
out of the back of his hand. This was the cause of George's pain and his
friends' mirth.

"Put a muzzle on him, Pop," advised Fred. "He's dangerous."

"He certainly is," agr