g of their dogs mingling with the
shrieking of the seabirds overhead. And thrice is the cove "drawn" by
the canoes, which are taken back to its mouth, the line re-formed, and
the process repeated till a good supply of the fish best worth catching
has been secured.

And now the spectators of the strange scene await with dread
anticipation the approaching crisis. Will the savage fishermen come
ashore, or go off without landing? In the former event, the castaways
have small hope of remaining undiscovered. True, they are well
concealed, not an inch of face or person is exposed; the captain and
Seagriff alone are cautiously doing the vidette duty. Still, should the
Fuegians come on shore, it must be at the ledge of rocks where of late
lay the boat, the only possible beaching-place, and not half a stone's
throw from the spot where they are concealed.

"The thing we've most to be afeerd of is thar dogs," mutters Seagriff.
"Ef they should land, the little curs'll be sure to scent us. An'--
sakes alive!--what's that?"

The final exclamation, though involuntarily uttered aloud, is not heard,
even by those standing beside him. Had it been the loudest shout it
could not have been distinguished amid the noise that called forth and
accompanied it, for it is drowned by the noise that called it forth. A
thundering crash, followed by a loud crackling which continues for
several seconds, and during its continuance drowning all other sounds.
There is no mystery about it, however; it is but a falling tree--the one
behind which "the doctor" had been standing, his hands pressed against
it for support. Yielding to curiosity, he had been peering around its
trunk contrary to orders, a disobedience that has cost him dear; for, as
if in punishment, his bulky body has gone along with the tree, face
foremost, and far down the slope.

Lost to sight in the cloud of dust that has puffed up over it, all
believe him killed, crushed, buried amid the _debris_ of shattered
branches. But no! In a trice he is seen on his feet again coming out
of the dust-cloud, no longer with a black skin, but chocolate-brown all
over, woolly pate and clothing included, as though he had been for days
buried in tan-bark! sneezing too, with violence. It is a spectacle to
make the most sober-sided laugh, but the occasion is not one for
merriment. All are too alarmed for that now, feeling sure of being
discovered by the savages. How can it be otherwise, after s