eir still being in the
territory of the hostile tribe from which they so miraculously escaped.

"Ailikoleep!" is the exclamation of Seagriff, as soon as he sets eyes on
it; "we're in the country o' the rascally savagers yit!"

"How do you know that?" inquires the skipper.

"By the build o' thet wigwam, an' the bulk of it. Ez ye see, it's
roun'-topped, whereas them o' the Tekineekers, an' other Feweegins, run
up to a sharp p'int, besides bein' bigger an' roomier. Thar's another
sign, too, of its bein' Ailikoleep. They kiver thar wigwams wi'
seal-skins, 'stead o' grass, which the Tekineekas use. Ef this hed been
thatched wi' grass, we'd see some o' the rubbish inside, an' the floor
'd be hollered out--which it's not. Yes, the folks that squatted hyar
hev been Ailikoleeps. But 'tain't no surprise to me, ez I heern some
words pass 'mong the fishin' party, which show'd 'em to be thet same.
Wal," he continues, more hopefully, "thar's one good thing: they haven't
set fut on this groun' fur a long while, which air some airnest o' thar
hevin' gi'n the place up fur good. Those dead woods tell o' thar last
doin's about hyar."

He points to some trees standing near, dead, and with most of the bark
stripped from their trunks.

"They've peeled 'em fur patchin' thar canoes, an' by the look of it,
thet barkin' was done more'n three years ago."

What he says does little to restore confidence. The fact of the fishing
party having been Ailikoleeps is too sure evidence that danger is still
impending. And such danger! It only needs recalling the late attack--
the fiendish aspect of the savages, with their furious shouts and
gestures, the darting of javelins and hurling of stones--to fully
realise what it is. With that fearful episode fresh in their thoughts,
the castaways require no further counsel to make them cautious in their
future movements.

The first of them is the pitching their tent, which is set up so as to
be screened from view of any canoe passing along the sea-arm; and for
their better accommodation, the wigwam is re-roofed, as it, too, is
invisible from the water. No fire is to be made during daylight, lest
its smoke should betray them; and when kindled at night for cooking
purposes, it must be done within the wood, whence not a glimmer of it
may escape outward. A lookout is to be constantly kept through the
glass by one or another taking it in turns, to look out, not alone for
enemies, but for friends--fo