that there might not be several.

One night, as Fritz was lying with one eye open, he observed Mary's
little black terrier suddenly prick up the fragments of its ears, and
begin sniffing at the edge of the tent. This shaggy little cur was
called Toby; it had accompanied the Wolstons on their voyage, and was
Mary's exclusive property; but Fritz had found the way to the animal's
heart as usual through its stomach, and Mary was in no way jealous of
his attentions to her favorite, but rather the reverse.

Fritz, feeling convinced by the actions of the dog, which was of the
true Scotch breed, that something extraordinary was passing outside
the tent, seized his rifle, hastened out, and was just in time to
distinguish a human figure on the opposite bank of the Jackal River,
which, on seeing him, took to its heels and disappeared in the forest.

He was soon joined by the Pilot and his brothers; the dogs leaped
about them, and the alarm became general throughout the encampment.
Fritz re-established order, enjoined silence, and said,

"I am determined this time to follow the affair up; who will accompany
me?"

"I will!" said all the four voices at once.

"Scouting parties ought not to be numerous," said Fritz; "I will,
therefore, take Willis, in case this mystification has anything to do
with the _Nelson_."

"And me," said Jack, "to serve as a dessert, in case the individual
should turn out to be an anthropophagian."

"Be it so; but no more. Frank and Ernest will remain to tranquilize
our parents, in case we should not return before they are up."

"And if so, what shall we say?"

"Tell them the truth. We shall proceed direct to Falcon's Nest; and if
the stranger--confiding in our habit of sleeping during the night--be
there as usual, we shall do ourselves the honor of helping him to get
up."

"Providing he does not nightly change his quarters like Oliver
Cromwell--not so much to avoid enemies, as to calm his uneasy
conscience."

"Well, we shall be no worse than before; we shall have tried to
restore our wonted quietude, and, if we fail, we can say, like Francis
I. at Pavia, '_All is lost except our honor_.'"

Some minutes after this conversation, three shadows might have been
seen stealing through the glades in the direction of Falcon's Nest.
Nothing was to be heard but the rustling of the leaves--the deafened
beating of the sea upon the rocks--and, to use the words of Lamartine,
"those unknown tongues that nigh