ide-open mouth of Sam Sorrel, who
lay sprawling on his back, with Tittles coiled up at his feet.

It is probable that Sam would have snored on for hours, but for a piece
of carelessness on his part. Just before going to rest he had placed a
tin can of water close to his head in such a way that it was balanced on
the edge of a shelf. A slight roll of the schooner, caused by the
entrance of a wave through an opening in the islands, toppled this can
over and emptied its contents on the sleeper's face.

He leaped up with a roar, of course. Tittles jumped up with a yelp,
while Grant and Temple turned round with a growl at having been
awakened, and went off to sleep again.

But sleep was driven away from the eyes of Sam Sorrel. He made one or
two efforts to woo it back in vain, so in despair he jumped up, put his
sketch-book in his pocket, seized a double-barrelled fowling-piece, and
went on deck, followed by Tittles. The little boat was floating under
the quarter, and a great mountainous island lay close off the starboard
bow. Getting into the boat, Sam rowed to the island, and was soon
clambering up the heights with the activity of a squirrel.

Sam paused now and then to gaze with admiration on the magnificent scene
that lay spread out far below him; the innumerable islands, the calm
water bathed in the soft light of early morning, and the schooner
floating just under his feet like a little speck or a sea-gull on the
calm sea. Pulling out his book and pencil, he sat down on a rock and
began to draw.

Suddenly the artist was startled by the sound of a heavy pair of wings
overhead. Thousands of seagulls flew above him, filling the air with
their wild cries, but Sam did not think it possible that they could
cause the sound which he had, heard. While he was still in doubt an
enormous eagle sailed majestically past him. It evidently had not seen
him, and he sat quite still, scarce daring to draw his breath. In a
moment the gigantic bird sailed round the edge of a precipitous cliff,
and was gone.

Sam at once rose and hurried forward with his gun. He was much excited,
for eagles are very difficult to approach--they are so shy and wary.
Few men who go to Norway ever get the chance of a shot at the king of
birds.

Judge, then, of the state of Sam Sorrel's mind when, on turning a corner
of rock, he suddenly beheld the eagle standing on the edge of a great
precipice about a hundred yards in advance of him.

But